And He Gave To Them Shepherds

Since the beginning of the COVID-19 I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be a pastor. I felt very strongly as this pandemic came upon us all, and repeatedly voiced to fellow pastors I knew, that those pastors who returned to the function of a shepherd would weather this season of suspended and limited gatherings the best. Coming from the church growth tradition, I saw many pastors immediately switch gears from “producing an excellent Sunday experience” to “producing an excellent online experience” with little regard for the need for increased pastoral care and spiritual direction during this season. Whether my caution proves to be a valid one remains to be season, though some early indications imply that I was correct. It is during this season that we pastors prove to those sheep with which we’ve been entrusted lead whether we can lead them and care for them personally during times of uncertainty and upheaval. People have and will feel the gap of pastoral care if we’re not attentive to their need.

I’m not talking about being everything to everyone all the time. Lord knows pastors are burning out like crazy in this season. But, as my own pastor recently remarked, this is not due as much to the need of our people, but of the church-as-corporation yoke that we have placed upon ministers. What is necessary is a return to the slow, faithful, calming presence of those whose calling from God necessitates first and foremost the three fold duties of 1) Scripture reading; 2) Prayer; and 3) Spiritual direction (both giving it and receiving it). For more on this see Eugene Peterson’s most excellent book, Working the Angles. It is when these three are done in the hidden, un-acclaimed parts of our existence as pastors, that the rest of the pastoral life flows. If we neglect these, it is like a crack in the foundation of our soul—it may not be noticeable at first, but eventually it will yield catastrophic consequences.

These three practices contribute to what Dallas Willard called, in his so-named book, a Renovation of the Heart. When we tend to the inner spaces of our soul, we pastors can properly lead from a place of being rather than doing. We lead from the overflow of our heart rather than sucking it dry of every last drop of wholeness. It is then that we are able to properly model the character of the Good Shepherd (John 10:11). We can understand the characteristics of the Good Shepherd that we are to model from David’s Psalm 23…

The Lord is my shepherd. At the onset we should remember that the terms shepherd and pastor are interchangeable. To be a pastor is to be a shepherd. It is both a calling of great distinction but incredible humility. Eugene Peterson says this:

“The biblical fact is that there are no successful churches. There are, instead, communities of sinners, gathered before God week after week in towns and villages all over the world. The Holy Spirit gathers them and does his work in them. In these communities of sinners, one of the sinners is called pastor and given a designated responsibility in the community. The pastor’s responsibility is to keep the community attentive to God. It is this responsibility that is being abandoned in spades” (Working the Angles, 2)

So the shepherd role is to live among, to be one of the sheep, yet to keep the sheep attentive to the Good Shepherd.

I have what I need. The goal of the pastor is not to grow the church by any means necessary. In fact, perhaps more than anywhere else, in the church community the means matter just as much as the ends. The Spirit works and lives and forms and convicts and renews in the means. The pastor is to tend to the needs of the congregation within those means, consistently pointing people toward attentiveness to Christ as they journey through life. Peterson notes elsewhere that much of the historical function of the pastor was to prepare people for a good death. To walk with them, tending to their needs (which, mind you, is different than their consumeristic desires), and pointing them back to Christ as they prepare for their rest in him.

He lets me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside quiet waters. A pastor is not a task master. She is not there just to “get the job done.” He walks with his people along the slow and patient way of Jesus toward rest—toward renewal—toward overflow—toward shalom or “wholeness.” If we contribute to the storm rather than calming the storm within peoples’ lives, we have likely stepped outside of our function as a shepherd. If we leverage people as attendance and giving widgets to brag about to our friends at conferences rather than stewarding them as a sacred treasure, we’ve lost sight of the task all together. The sheep are not there to serve the shepherd. The shepherd serves the sheep and, in turn, the sheep heed the commands of the shepherd because they are certain the shepherd has their best interests at heart.

He renews my life; he leads me along the right paths for his name’s sake. A godly shepherd will steward his or her power to pull the right path out of the people he or she leads. That is not the path the shepherd has designated for them through vision and mission statements. It is the path Christ has marked out for them through calling and passion and talent. The shepherd identifies those unique gifts, not to exploit them for personal gain, but to gather the resources and wisdom of the flock to breathe life in order that God might be glorified through the diverse giftings of the whole.

Even when I go through the darkest valley, I fear no danger, for you are with me. In times of peril and uncertainty, the shepherd is a faithful and calming presence in the life of the flock. He is there, not to wax eloquent with false prophecies about how no harm will befall them, but to point to Jesus who endured the suffering of the cross for the sake of us all. The faithful shepherd calms the storm in the lives of her sheep by anchoring their hope on the unshakability of Christian hope—of new wine and new creation, of resurrection and renewal. And most of all the shepherd quells fears, not by offering nuggets of fortune cookie wisdom with a proof text attached, but by simply saying, “I’m not going anywhere. Let’s sit and weather this together.”

Your rod and your staff—they comfort me. Church discipline is a naughty word. It (understandably) brings to the surface stories of abuse and harm—shepherds who fleeced their flocks or fed one or more of them to the wolves. But discipline from a loving presence is better than eloquent words from someone who doesn’t want to upset the apple cart (Prov. 27:6). Faithful shepherds know when it’s time to say, “I love you enough to tell you this hard truth…” Sure, in a time and culture where people get offended by everything and can just as easily go down the street to be at a church that won’t challenge their stagnation, the duty to lovingly correct so we can improve doesn’t fade away. In fact, when done in love and steadfast presence, such hard conversations bring comfort that with this flock, I really can grow.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. A faithful shepherd protects victims from abusers, both within and outside of the church. In a time when the #ChurchToo movement has echoed the lamentation and cries for justice of the #MeToo movement, pastors must be about the business of protecting victimized sheep from the wolves…even when those wolves are fellow pastors. Our sheep must feel safe that we will protect the vulnerable and will not prop up wickedness or insulate abusers for the sake of keeping the status quo or calling the reputation of the church into question.

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. The faithful shepherd doesn’t simply plug people into functions in the life of the church like stopping up the hole in a ship. He identifies the anointing—she digs down deep into the life of an individual through time in conversation, time over meals, time in faithful friendship, to identify the anointing on a person’s life so that it can be brought to the surface and used for the good of the person, the good of the whole church, and indeed the good of the world. Note that the shepherd anoints the other. The sheep doesn’t simply glean from the anointing of the shepherd. The shepherd is entrusted with raising up anointed leaders and pulling them up rather than stepping on their backs for selfish gain.

Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life. A pastor disciples his or her people into virtue. That’s not the same as towing a moralistic line. Virtue is something that derives, not from fear of punishment or retribution—it’s not “turn or burn” discipleship. No. Virtue is cultivated in a reformation of the spirit man so that right conduct and character are the fruit of a transformed life—a life who’s inner motivations have been touched by the Holy Spirit. Pastor, in this season, hear me: Your job isn’t to get people to vote the right way so powerful people will legislate “biblical” morality. Your job is to cultivate biblical virtue in your people.

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord as long as I live. Our character. Our temperament. Our leadership. Our example. All of this should cultivate within people a deep love for the Church. Not simply a habitual obligation to attend, serve, give, etc. Not our great preaching, excellent production, or even ability to cast a compelling vision. That stuff isn’t bad. But instead, may our presence in people’s lives be the advertisement for Jesus’ flock. This is where I find wholeness. This is where I find power. This is where I find family. This is where I find Jesus.