follow the path
“unless you have to”
“Do not become a pastor unless you absolutely have to.”
That was what my Assemblies of God pastor told me before I went to Eastern Baptist Seminary in Philadelphia, which I began in the fall of 1991. I don’t know if those were his exact words, but it was something to that effect.
I didn’t make any response, but my thought process was, “Don’t worry about that. I have no intention of going down that road. I am not at all interested in being a pastor.”
I believe there were a variety of impulses contributing to the advice he gave. I’m sure there was a great desire to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit.
Also, he no doubt encountered numerous folks who had no more business being pastors than, well, I did! There were characters standing behind pulpits with Lord only knows what was coming out of their mouths. (Maybe I should withdraw that statement. How many times could that be said of me?)
Another assumption I wanted to be a pastor was made by someone a couple of years earlier. This was at the Assemblies of God Bible college in Lakeland, Florida. A dear Old Testament professor urged me to not get ordained in the A/G. Having gone to Columbia Seminary in Atlanta (a PCUSA school), he became familiar with the Presbyterian ethos. He suggested that as a path of ordination. Just as with the later guidance from my pastor, I figured he had nothing to worry about.
It is notable how someone with no intention of pursuing parish ministry was interested in both Bible college and seminary. It probably speaks to my orientation toward academic (perhaps theoretical?) approach to life. I recognize it as the way I was built — but with a built-in challenge.
It no doubt also speaks to God’s sense of humor.
At the seminary, I pursued a Master of Arts in Theological Studies. It would be useful to those interested in, say, public policy. Politics infused with the gospel. As the time for graduation drew near, I investigated many places where I could make use of my training. Nothing materialized. This was the spring of 1993.
Banu, my wife-to-be at the time, was taking me to dinner at the home of some missionary friends of hers. On the drive there I was lamenting my lack of success. She made the simple suggestion I pursue the Master of Divinity degree, which is the one primarily for those interested in pastoral ministry.
The clouds parted. The light shone. My spirit was lifted. Everything made sense. Of course! I had always wanted to be a pastor! What had I been thinking? What was I, crazy? It was always down there, that yearning deep in the chasm buried under denials and excuses.
So, jumping ahead to 1997, Banu and I were ordained in the Presbytery of Philadelphia. We have now been pastors for 25 years. Doing the math, it would seem to be 26 years. However, we spent a year with my mother in Tennessee, who had some health issues. And truth be told, we sensed we needed a hiatus, an extended sabbath, as I thought of it. In early 2016, we returned to parish ministry.
Do not become a pastor unless you absolutely have to. It is too important a decision to take lightly.
I feel like I have been released from the “have to” part of that directive. Don’t misunderstand, I became a pastor, not simply because I had to, but because I dearly wanted to. And so now moving on, it really is about following the Holy Spirit into a new realm. Banu and I are moving into a new chapter of life and ministry. And I joyfully and gladly do so.
Nonetheless, I would be lying if I didn’t confess to some anxiety by plunging into the unknown, relatively speaking. I am leaving something I have considered to be a huge part of my identity for all these years.
It is indeed a leap of faith. We all have our own stories. They might deal with family situations, career, moving to a different part of the country, a different part of the world, saying goodbye, saying hello. I’m sure many of you have felt that same anxiety.
When we go with God, we can take comfort in the words spoken through Moses to the children of Israel. “It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed” (Deuteronomy 31:8).
Amazingly enough, I am not the first person in history to question the leading of the Lord!
Let’s go back 29 centuries to the prophet Isaiah. He is active in late 8th century BC, one estimate being 742–701. The context is fear of invasion by the Assyrian Empire. It occupies a big chunk of the Middle East.
The northern kingdom of Israel has already been conquered. The people in the southern kingdom of Judah are shaking in their shoes. Consequently, they want to ally themselves with Egypt, which is still independent. However, the prophet issues a warning. He plays the role of party pooper.
Chapter 30 begins, “Woe to the rebellious children, says the Lord, who carry out a plan but not mine; who make an alliance but against my will, adding sin to sin; who set out to go down to Egypt without asking for my counsel, to take refuge in the protection of Pharaoh and to seek shelter in the shadow of Egypt” (vv. 1–2). Isaiah tells them they are doomed to fail.
Still, they want to take their own path. They refuse to see they are going down the wrong road. In fact, they want reassurance in their decision. They say to the seers, “Do not see.” They say to the prophets, “Do not prophesy to us” (v. 10). Well, you can prophesy to us — just make sure it’s what we want to hear.
Here’s where Isaiah gets really sarcastic. He has them saying, “speak to us smooth things; prophesy illusions.”
On a side note: the Bible is filled with puns, mockery, humorous observations, and guess who excel in that? The prophets do, as well as Jesus, and the apostle Paul throws in a couple of his own.
Nevertheless, as boneheaded as they are, the Lord is aching to extend them mercy. I suppose a prerequisite to needing mercy is a state of boneheadedness. I readily admit to my own boneheadedness.
“Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him” (v. 18). And while promises are being dispensed, here is a key one: “when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it’” (v. 21).
As Jesus is known to say, “Those with ears to hear, let them hear.”
We hear a voice, and we sense — we know — we’d be better off heeding it. It is for our own good. But we let our minds and hearts be hardened. Just as with Isaiah’s audience we say, “We want to hear smooth things. We don’t want to be challenged.”
I would be lying (haven’t I already said that?) if I were to claim I have never felt that way. Lord, I really don’t want to hear that. I’m not at all claiming it as a badge of honor, but some biggies in the scriptures did the same thing. Drumroll… Namely, Moses and Jeremiah!
When God called Moses to go back to Pharaoh and say, “Let my people go,” he came up with all kinds of excuses. Who am I to go? What if they ask for your name? What if they don’t believe me? I’m not very eloquent. Finally he said, “please send someone else” (Ex 4:13).
As for Jeremiah, he did all kinds of complaining, and for very good reason, considering all the abuse he suffered. He goes as far as claiming God tricked him into speaking his word (Jr 20:7). He wants to be free of speaking the word of the Lord, but it’s like a fire within him, and he has to let it out.
But I want to get back to that voice, that word behind us. It acts as our conscience, showing us what to do and say, and what not to do and say. Still, there’s the temptation to harden our hearts, to close our minds. We damage each other. We hurt ourselves. We say no to the Holy Spirit.
I like verse 22. “Then you will defile your silver-covered idols and your gold-plated images. You will scatter them like impure things; you will say to them, ‘Away with you!’” That’s an interesting turn of phrase. You will defile what is already defiled. You will desecrate what is already desecrated. One translation says, “You will loathe them like a foul discharge and call them filth.” (Revised English Bible)
As Eugene Peterson put it in The Message: “You’ll scrap your expensive and fashionable god-images. You’ll throw them in the trash as so much garbage, saying, ‘Good riddance!’”
Last month I mentioned how at one time music had become almost my god, and I took my large collection of record albums and tossed them into a dumpster. I had no idea at the time I was following the prophet Isaiah’s advice! There’s no better way to defile something than chucking it into a bin full of rubbish.
The prophet Isaiah isn’t the only one calling people to follow the path. Jesus does his own calling, except in his case, he makes it personal. Follow not simply a path; follow me!
The way it’s presented in Matthew 4, it looks like Jesus has decided to go for a little stroll by the shore. He’s enjoying the fresh breeze, whistling a happy tune. Then all of a sudden, he sees two brothers going fishing. They are casting their net into the water. On impulse, he calls these boys to follow him.
Seemingly, they have never laid eyes on each other. The two fellows, Simon Peter and Andrew, simply drop their nets, the implements of their livelihood, and join this guy they’re meeting for the first time.
Soon after, Jesus sees another pair of brothers, James and John the sons of Zebedee, and the entire sequence is repeated. They say goodbye to dear old dad, and then just take off. Zebedee calls out, “Boys, where are you going? Are you just going to leave me high and dry?”
There are people who believe all of that is precisely how it happened.
I don’t think it’s anything like that. I think Matthew is zeroing in on the decision itself. These guys aren’t following a whim. And they aren’t mindless automatons. They know what they’re doing. They know who Jesus is. And they know the awesome impact and the privilege he is extending them.
Jesus asks the brothers Simon Peter and Andrew to make a career change. That same invitation is also extended to James and John. They’ve been fishing to catch what’s swimming under water. Now they will be fishing to catch what’s walking around on dry land.
I spoke a few moments ago of puns and humorous turns of phrase in the Bible. How can we fail to hear the clever and even playful way Jesus uses the word “fish”? I can even imagine his giving them a wink as he says it.
Do not follow the path. Do not follow the Lord unless you absolutely have to. Well, that sounds strange.
Perhaps it would be better phrased, “Do not deceive yourself that you are following the path or following the Lord.” As said previously, we can harden our hearts — we can close our minds — and we can do it to the call of the Holy Spirit. Conversely, we can be open. We can heed that word behind us, that still small voice.
I’ll leave you with something to ponder. Is there anything we’re willing to give up, knowing the Lord has something even greater for us? We do get so used to the tried and true, the comfortable and the colorless.
But the path is laid out for us, the one leading us into the saving, empowering, and creative embrace of Jesus our Messiah.
[excerpts of a recent post provided the beginning of the current post]
