Pastor’s Page

Thanks to Toby Sumpter for drawing my attention to these posts by Nancy Wilson:

Standards

Loving the Standard

I’m guessing there are other parents out there who have a sense of the inevitable tension that comes when training your children. These are healthy reminders to keep the bigger picture in mind.

You have probably heard the news or seen the headline that Dr. Jack Kevorkian is dead. According to Ezekiel 18:23 the LORD takes “no pleasure in the death of the wicked.” That is profoundly true, and an amazing thing to consider when Dr. Kevorkian was a man whose actions opposed the Living God. Equally true are the word of David in Psalm 5: For you are not a God who delights in wickedness; evil may not dwell with you. The boastful shall not stand before your eyes; you hate all evildoers. You destroy those who speak lies; the LORD abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man (vv. 4-6). Clearly God has a way of dealing with His enemies, and He has profoundly done so through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In fact, God has defeated death by the death of Christ, and then vindicated His Son by the resurrection from the dead (see Romans 1:4). He is “‘the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.’ He is not the God of the dead, but of the living” (Matthew 22:32) – ironically, Jack Kevorkian’s given name was Jacob. God is a God of life. He testified to be so at the creation of the world, and testifies to the same in the new creation begun in Christ. Dr. Kevorkian did not understand this. Or if he did, he chose to oppose it. Some might argue that suffering from a terminal illness really isn’t living, and I understand what they mean in such statement, but that is to divorce the discussion apart from the life of faith, which I’m not willing to do. Even as Jesus’ life involved suffering, invariably our lives will be marked by physical suffering, and perhaps most acutely as our days in this mortal life come to an end. But even those days, even that time is to be met by faith, a faith that rests in the life that is yet to come. The actions of Dr. Kevorkian’s life testified that this life is all there is; that there’s nothing but nothing once we breath our last in this world. Those whose God is the LORD know better. They know that “Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20). They know that those “in Christ shall be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:22). And even more, they know that Jesus is alive and reigns now, and the “he must reign until He has put all his enemies under His feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Cor. 15:25-26). Yesterday marked Jesus’ ascension to His throne in Heaven forty days after His resurrection from the dead. Today Dr. Kevorkian died. I would imagine, that in some form or fashion, Jacob Kevorkian is aware that God is the God of the living, and has met the Living King.

About a month ago I posted a quote from The Pastor as Minor Poet, by M. Craig Barnes, which essentially described the thesis for the book. If you are not a pastor, this book isn’t for you – though some portions might be a helpful read for pastors’ wives (which I’ll speak to shortly). This would also be a good book for those looking to enter the ministry, because it provides a helpful perspective that can get lost or pushed to the edges in the midst of theological training and study. Honestly, though, I’m not sure an aspiring pastor would really appreciate what Pastor Barnes is conveying. Still it is worth reading for the novice even if he may get more out of it 5-10 years down the road after having gained some real life ministerial experience and perspective. While the book has a lot to offer in regard to the poetic approach to the ministry and what that looks like, I found the simple fact that here was a pastor approaching and articulating his ministry in this fashion to be an invigorating breath of clean air. It further confirmed convictions that I have regarding the ministry, but also helped me to maintain my sanity that I am not the only who thinks about the ministry in this fashion (l know that I’m not because where else would I have learned to think this way except from other pastors, but sometimes it can feel like it). So here is a pastor with years and years of experience who endeavors to have a poetic ministry in the midst of his congregation, and who understands the inherent struggles and challenges unique to such an approach. And herein lies how portions of the books can be helpful for ministers’ wives to read. Chapter 8, “The Subtext of the Poet” is one such section. There are too many good quotes to draw from, but consider these words from the beginning of the chapter:

Minor poets have to struggle for their poetry. It comes only as a prize bestowed upon those with the courage to keep returning to the wrestling between the holy words of the Bible and the day’s ordinary words. At the end of the day, it’s up to the parish poet to make holy sense of all these words.

This is what pastors really mean when they complain about the loneliness of their calling. No on can do this priestly work for them, or even with them. It is ironic that a profession that surrounds pastors with so many people leaves them alone with their own ponderings. And this is the part of the profession that is completely missed by everyone the pastor serves….

There is nothing hierarchical or elitist about this loneliest dimension of the job. To the contrary, pastor are never more servants of the church than when they’re alone with their thoughts about what God is doing in the lives of others. But they’re not really alone. Their souls are crowded with all who have made their way deep inside, And of course, there is also the nagging presence of the holy words that will not go away. This is how pastors love their congregations – they take them into their souls, where they carry on both sides of a conversation between the people and their God.

Barnes goes on in the chapter to expound the ways in which the pastor finds the poetic voices. He notes that there are times when the poets are only talking to themselves, or, more accurately, they “ponder experiences they cannot adequately describe.” For the pastor-poet this means he “is possessed by a burden to ask what God is up to in the lives of the lonely and the sick, as well as in the lives of those whose blessings are so abundant they cannot even count them.” The pastor comes alongside both, thinks on both circumstances and situations, and endeavors to speak to both:

No element of the minor poet’s job description is more crucial than this churning. The experiences, impressions, befuddlements, and penetrating words that are absorbed throughout the day have to turn over and over in the pastor’s soul, where they’re mixed together with the holy words of the Scriptures until at last the human subtext can be described with minor poetry.

So pastors’ wives, when your husband suddenly gets that far away look at the dinner table or in the car, and you ask him if there’s anything wrong, and he just shakes his head and says, “No, not really,” he may just be churning, mulling things over, trying to figure a few things out, and simply can’t put them into words. At least not yet.

The Monster in the Hollows is the third installment in Andrew Peterson’s “The Wingfeather Saga.” We are first introduced to Janner, Kalmar (a.k.a. Tink), and Leeli Igiby in the series opener, On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. The brothers and sister live in the small town of Glipwood with their mother, Nia, and their grandfather, Podo, and enjoy a relatively quiet life until they come into conflict with the dreaded Fangs of Dang. Their lives are suddenly filled with danger as they begin an adventure that leads to the children’s discovery of their true, royal identity: Janner is a Throne Warden, Tink is the High King, and Leeli the Song Maiden of the fallen kingdom of Anniera. Their father, Esben Wingfeather, was the High King of Anniera, and their mother his queen. The story continues in North! Or Be Eaten as the children embark upon a harrowing journey for the Ice Prairies, fleeing for their lives from the Fangs, who have discovered the children’s true identity and value to their leader, Gnag the Nameless. In the midst of indelible trials, Janner and Tink engage in deeper struggles with the responsibilities placed upon them by their new-found identities.

Hollows takes Janner, Kalmar, and Leeli’s journey of identity to a profoundly deeper level. What does it mean to be a song maiden, a throne warden, or even a king? Through the instruction they receive from their mother, their teachers at school, and the personal humiliation they must regularly endure, the children learn that their royal identity is a call to service and humility. In fact, the Wingfeathers acutely learn who they are through what they suffer (cf. Hebrews 5:8). Nia’s daily reminder, “Remember who you are,” acts as a refrain of one of the book’s central themes: the importance and power in a name defining identity. In many respects, herein lies the masterful way in which Mr. Peterson weaves the heart of the Gospel into his story. The Gospel of Mark is the story of Jesus, the Servant-King, the center of which is found in chapters 9 and 10. After Jesus foretells of his coming death and resurrection (9:30-32), He immediately tells them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all” (v. 35). Then in chapter 10, after again foretelling of his coming suffering and death in Jerusalem, and subsequent resurrection, He teaches the disciples again what their calling entails after James and John’s request to be seated at Christ’s left and right in glory. Gathering all of the disciples to him, Jesus says,

“You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (vv. 42-45).

Hold that picture in place and consider one of the central exhortations of Paul’s letter to the Colossians. He calls believers to consider what Christ has accomplished (see 2:6-15), and to live according to their identity in Him (especially note 3:1-17). Essentially, Paul is saying, “Be who you are.” Furthermore, as kings (Revelation 1:6, 1 Corinthians 6:2), God’s people are called to a life of service and humility patterned in the life of Christ. The Monster in the Hollows vibrantly brings these themes to life, resonating in the soul.

The consensus of the Thacker home is that this is Mr. Peterson’s best story-telling yet. My simple proof is the two-plus hours my wife and boys sat in rapt attention last night. As long as my voice held out there was little doubt we would get through all seventeen chapters left in order to finish the book. “The Wingfeather Saga” is to be concluded in the fourth volume, The Warden and the Wolf King. Deborah initially vowed to be “mad” at Mr. Peterson that the last book wasn’t written yet, but has since changed her mind, so satisfying was Hollows. I hope that more children and parents will read The Wingfeather Saga, and for the discussions it will lead to as we endeavor to remember who we are, and instruct our children in the same.

Besides the new, adorable things that Evangeline (my almost 11 month-old daughter) did yesterday, the highlight of the day was, without a doubt, meeting Carrie Underwood at the Whole Foods in Green Hills. Even today it still doesn’t seem real, but it happened, and here is the story.

I was pulling out of the Whole Foods parking garage while talking to my wife on the phone. As I did so, I happened to see a blond-haired woman wearing a pink sweatshirt walking along the sidewalk toward the store entrance. I had a reasonably good look at her face, and said to Deborah, “I think I just saw Carrie Underwood.” She immediately encouraged me to go back into the store to make sure. I mumbled something about bad traffic (it was close to 5 PM, and if you’ve ever been in Green Hills at that time of day you know what I mean), but Deborah mentioned that “you might not get another chance,” or, “you’ll always wonder.” Then she asked, “Are you going to invite her to dinner?” To which I quickly replied, “No, I don’t think I’ll even talk to her.” Ending my call with Deborah, I was about to turn onto Hillsboro Road when Carpe Diem got the better of me, and I turned around. Back to the parking garage I went, quickly found a place, and re-entered the store. The pink sweatshirt was fairly easy to spot, so I got another glance somewhere in the produce section and was 99% sure it was Ms. Underwood. Now the challenge became to find a moment to speak to her when there were not a lot of other people around. I pretended to shop for about the next five minutes (it felt longer, maybe it was) looking for an opportunity. Finally, I made up my mind, walked around a corner and there she was. Immediately I said, “Excuse me. Carrie Underwood?” She said, “Yes,” with a slight I-would-rather-not-be-bothered expression, but was gracious nonetheless. I blathered something about being a big fan, and I am not sure what else. At some point I introduced myself and she extended her hand, and then I proceeded to tell her that my wife and I had always said that if we ever met her in person, we would invite her over for dinner. With a smile she asked, “Can you cook vegetarian?” I assured her that would not be a problem given our own family’s special dietary needs. I probably thanked her again, and then walked away. No sooner did I walk away than I realized she did not have a way of contacting me. So I quickly pulled out one of my cards, circled around to where she was in the frozen foods, and handed it to her saying, “This is my contact information.” She took the card, and I thanked her for allowing me to disturb her, which she said wasn’t a problem. That’s my story of meeting Carrie Underwood.

Now, as I reflected upon this last night during supper, I began to think upon on the providence of God, and all of the details that had to be just right for this meeting to take place. Before I shopped at Whole Foods, I went to Trader Joe’s. Before going to Trader Joe’s, I intended to get a haircut, but found out my regular barber was not at the shop, so I ended up going straight to Trader Joe’s from my house. The route that I took to get there; the delay of waiting on a worker to check on a product we had bought there in the past, but apparently no longer carry; seeing Jonathan Rogers in the Whole Foods Café after arriving there and speaking with him for a few minutes; and then the list of things I needed to purchase, and the time it took for me to procure them at Whole Foods. All of the minutes and seconds worked out so that as I was driving out of the parking garage there was Carrie Underwood. Of course, you can argue this to be the case for any event or encounter. For instance, finding a great parking space at the mall has more variables and factors than we can possibly imagine. Still more, if you had asked me who would be the one Nashville celebrity I would most like to meet, without a doubt, I would answer Carrie Underwood. Add to that the running tongue-in-cheek agreement between Deborah and me about inviting her over for dinner if we ever met her only adds another layer of satisfaction and enjoyment to the experience. So, believing in the providence of God, which I do, and knowing that He knows all of the variables involved (including Miss Underwood’s schedule that day), this “chance” meeting was perfectly orchestrated within the bounds of choices that were made and factors out of my control. There is mystery in such a reality, to be sure, but there is also reason for thanksgiving. The Lord “discerns my thoughts from afar” and is “acquainted with all my ways” (Psalm 139:2, 3), and that being true, meeting Carrie Underwood was hardly an accident.

And Miss Underwood, just in case you come across this post, please know that you and your husband have a standing invitation for dinner at our home.

Last week I had the privilege of attending a breakfast with some fellow pastors (and aspiring pastors) in the Nashville area. Reverend David Cassidy was a guest, speaking to the group on the topic “The Reading Life of the Pastor.” It was an excellent talk and conversation, and encouraging and challenging on a number of fronts. One of the overall impressions I was left with is that a pastor needs to have a “poetic” ministry. This jogged my mind to recall a book that I had picked up and started, but had set down and not returned to: The Pastor as Minor Poet, by M. Craig Barnes. In light of Pastor Cassidy’s talk, I have taken it up again, and came across this insightful remark. In setting forth the possible ways in which a pastor can be identified (such as shepherd, priest, ministers of Word and Sacrament), Mr. Barnes humbly suggests the image of the poet. He writes,

I present this not as the normative or even preferred image, but simply as another biblical description of the calling of those who have been blessed with a vision that allows them to explore, and express, the truth behind the reality. Poets see the despair and heartache as well as the beauty and miracle that lie just beneath the thin veneer of the ordinary, and they describe this in ways that are recognized not only in the mind, but more profoundly in the soul.

In a day in which people are so profoundly confused about fundamental identity issues, and are desperately trying to construct life as best they can, it is critically necessary for pastors to recover this poetic dimension of their ministries. What the congregation needs is not a strategist to help them form another plan for achieving a desired image of life, but a poet who looks beneath the desperation to recover the mystery of what it means to be made in God’s image (18-19).

Poets are visionaries. They can see the world at a deeper level, and help others to see that world, too. Surely pastors are called to the same. We live in a world still marred by sin, but Christ has come and redeemed the world. In so doing, He has given the Church a vision, not only for the future, but for the present. Therefore, it is for pastors take up the poetic mantle to help God’s people see the life which Christ bids them to live in Him.

In the quiet of Holy Saturday, I want to take a moment to reflect on the Lenten Season. From time to time I’ve thought that Lent might be more “effective” if it took place in the dreary days of winter. Somehow that would seem more appropriate, wouldn’t it? (Of course, I’m speaking as a resident in the Northern Hemisphere, which can’t be helped.) When creation in Middle Tennessee is waking up for spring; when the grass and trees are coming into their first brilliant greens of the year; when flowers are blooming and trees blossoming, it’s a greater challenge to meditate upon the suffering of Christ and the gravity of sin. Now, I know that Lent is more than that, but for the sake of discussion let’s be agreed that it’s at least that. Yet, upon further reflection, nature’s testimony of life couldn’t be more fitting. Lent wasn’t devised for the sake of itself, nor is it the end. After Lent comes Easter. After humiliation comes exaltation. After death comes resurrection. God’s creation knows that, and is simply pushing us ahead to the next chapter of the story, telling us that sin and death don’t have the last word. The cross inevitably leads to the empty tomb. Here in Tennessee, nature just can’t keep that truth quiet before Resurrection Sunday arrives. And I’m glad it can’t.

Roughly six months ago I read and posted a brief review of Marilynne Robinson’s Home. In it Ms. Robinson tells a different, but overlapping story with that of Gilead. Arguably, Gilead should be read first, since it was written first, and I now I wonder how my experience of Home might have been different had I read Gilead first. But I didn’t, and so until I decide to read them in the “correct” order I will simply be left to wonder. Quite honestly, I don’t think that my experience of either book was necessarily lessened. In fact, I think that my perception of Jack Boughton’s character in Home was more intense for not having read the insights provided about him by the Reverend Ames in Gilead. I was relieved to read them, as it softened Jack’s character in an unexpected way. However, Robinson’s first foray into the life of a family in the town of Gilead isn’t mainly about Jack Boughton, so much as it is about the aged Ames writing to his young son – a mixture of reminiscence, imparting of wisdom, and encouragement in faith. Still, Jack haunts the Reverend’s thoughts and words, and as Gilead provided me with new revelation about Jack, it did the same for Reverend Ames. Now, perhaps this only proves that I should have read Gilead first, and maybe it does, but it also occurs to me that this reveals the brilliance of what Ms. Robinson accomplishes in these two books. To be able to write about the same events, but from the different perspectives of various characters within the stories she crafted, and convincingly so, is quite remarkable. The pathos which the reader experiences is palpable and powerful.

While I found the story of Home to be more emotionally gripping, I underlined numerous passages in Gilead, which is something I don’t know that I’ve ever done before in a work of fiction. The truths imparted and the insights into the human condition are notable, but Robinson’s portrayal of the inner-life of a pastor was nothing short of revelatory. I suppose Marilynne Robinson’s literary achievement is evidenced by the fact that she won the Pulitzer Prize for Gilead. I suppose…though a prize, no matter how prestigious, can hardly compare to the indelible mark Ms. Robinson’s story leaves upon the reader.

Pastors Joe Thacker and Rich Lusk discuss St Mark Reformed Church’s upcoming Living as the Church Conference: “Mission: Its Meaning and Manifestation.” After listening to the podcast you can get more information and register for the conference HERE.

To listen without flash click HERE.

In J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Two Towers, the following conversation takes place between Frodo and Sam while resting from their arduous climb up the stairs of Cirith Ungol. The simple eloquence, the way in which we are reminded that we have a place in God’s story of the world is profound.

‘I don’t like anything here at all,’ said Frodo, ‘step or stone, breath or bone. Earth, air and water all seem accursed. But so our path is laid.’

‘Yes, that’s so,’ said Sam. ‘And we shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on – and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same – like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of tale we’ve fallen into?’

‘I wonder,’ said Frodo. ‘But I don’t know. And that’s the way of a real tale. Take any one that you’re fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don’t know. And you don’t want them to.’

Thanks be to God that the happiest of endings awaits us (1 John 3:2).

Rich Bledsoe provides a fascinating historical and theological analysis of the principalities and powers on the Biblical Horizons Blog. While lengthy, they are well worth your time and consideration. Part 1 covers the period from the Early Church through the Reformation. Part 2 explores the implications for the current world climate of the East and West. One quotation Dr. Bledsoe cites, that is particularly interesting, comes the Academy of Chinese Social Sciences. In trying to discern why the West has been so successful to date, the Academy reached this conclusion:

We studied everything we could from the historical, political, economic, and cultural perspective. At first, we thought it was because you had more powerful guns than we had. Then we thought it was because you had the best political system. But in the past twenty years, we have realized that the heart of your culture is your religion: Christianity. That is why the West has been so powerful. The Christian moral foundation of social and cultural life was what made possible the emergence of capitalism and then the successful transition to democratic politics. We don’t have any doubt about this.

(This quote can also be found here in a different report).

That is a stunning admission, but neither is it surprising. The Church is the salt of the earth and light of the world, and so wherever faithful Christians go, they are bound to have an impact upon the cultures, societies, and nations where God has placed them. Since Jesus taught the disciples to pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” the Lord has been answering that prayer. We still enjoy the fruit and blessing of the answer to that prayer here in the West. And what an amazing thing it will be when the power of communism is toppled in China at last, and the Gospel of Christ’s Kingship is openly proclaimed.

In the Lord’s providence I was made aware of two articles today. The first, Parish Evangelism, is a brief summary of the ministerial approach of Thomas Chalmers in Scotland in the 1800s. Take a couple of minutes to read it, and I think you will be impressed with Chalmers’ vision for ministry, if you are not already familiar with it. The second article, Living Faithfully in the Hypercity is written by Jamison Galt, a pastor ministering in New York City. It is a fascinating read, especially in light of the Chalmers’ article, because of the fact that the approach Thomas Chalmers employed is very similar to the model that Pastor Galt is encouraging. (I would not be surprised to find out that Mr. Galt has some knowledge of Mr. Chalmers’ ministerial model.) Chalmers was about the parish, establishing and ministering to a local flock. Pastor Galt poses a challenging question, and then answers it in turn:

What will distinguish the work of urban Christians from the generational mass that is recently rediscovering the city and reversing post-war white-flight?

My answer: the local. Christians do not yet give sufficient attention to the importance of place— the hundreds of discrete neighbourhoods that compose a vast behemoth like New York City— nor to the shaping power their daily liturgies have upon particular communities. Considered in redemptive local impact, the creative and professional class is largely the invisible class. They’re not often found on the stoop, at block parties, volunteering for neighbourhood organizations. Too often they engage the city like medium-term tourists, even as their activity transforms it into a stay-cation destination hospitable only to the super-wealthy, hip, and educated, and that as a launching pad for somewhere else. They often overlook the means found in Jeremiah 29 for seeking the welfare of the city: build houses and live in them, plant gardens and eat their produce, get married and raise children there, do not decrease. Such activity requires local and long-term focus.

As St. Mark Reformed Church is endeavoring to be discerning and faithful to her calling in the city of Nashville, the importance of place is very real. There is an intentionality that must go into answering the question of “Where?” May the Lord grant us wisdom to answer that question.