The Glass House
Reason 2: The Pastor
Where Everybody Knows Your Name.
Last week we discussed the little rude coffee shop I used to
patronize back in New York City, about how mean and
condescending those coffee guys were.
The thing about being around people who treat you like you’re
nothing is, if you do it long enough, you start to believe it.
You start internalizing the condescension, accepting it as fact
simply because that’s how you’re routinely treated. In our black
church tradition, this is, sadly, a double-edged sword. Black
churches are routinely run by men (although women do virtually
all of the actual work). To varying extents, many of these black
men find respect only within the walls of the black church.
Everywhere else, they are ignored or trampled upon by bosses
and, well, mean coffee shop guys. But, in the church, no matter how
big or how small that church, they are somebody. Deacon So And
So. Chairman of Thus Board. The church becomes their coffee shop,
these guys now petty kings of their respective feudal serfs.
It’s a real ego jolt for people to have to come to you for
approval over things. To see your name in print on the church
bulletin.
And it is the likely origin of the frivolous and pretentious
formality most black churches engage in. Most black churches
I’ve seen list their leadership in grand formal style, Deacon
William James Harrison Boyd, Jr. Such formality serves
absolutely no purpose. I mean, nobody—nobody—in this man’s life
calls him Deacon William James Harrison Boyd, Jr. At his
job—whether blue collar or law firm—people likely call him
Willie.
If he’s really important, they might call him Mr. Boyd. But
nobody calls him Deacon William James Harrison Boyd, Jr. Nobody
at the church, either, where it‘s Deacon Boyd. Yet, when they
write his name on something—anything at all, could be a flyer
for a picnic—they list his name like a law firm. Deacon William
James Harrison Boyd, Jr, Chairman. And his name must be listed
on even the most remedial and trivial of things—things he has
absolutely nothing to do with. An announcement that the
pre-school Sunday School snack will be animal crackers. Deacon
William James Harrison Boyd, Jr., Chairman. It makes the guy look like an asshole.
I apologize for the profanity, but I'm grasping at something else to call it. This deacon,
possibly your pastor, insisting on some formal mouthful of syllables about him, amplifying him,
lifting him up, glorifying him, insisting it appear everywhere--on a kid's tee-shirt--yes,
this man is lost in self and you are a fool for following and enabling this deeply insecure person.
This presumptive formality is partly about these guys’ military
experience. They bring the rules of military protocol into the church
house where such rules absolutely do not belong. Mostly, though, we do it because this is how we’ve always
done it. This is how our fathers and their fathers did it. We do
it because this is simply The Way. But it makes us look
ridiculous. It makes us look insecure. Like we don’t know who we
are so we must constantly remind everyone—including ourselves.
Meanwhile, over in the white church, the chairman’s name is Bill.
“Oh, go see Bill.” Bill is a guy. He doesn’t get offended when
you call him Bill. Bill is his name. And, often, Bill can buy
and sell Deacon William James Harrison Boyd, Jr any day of the
week and twice on Sunday. He is, in terms of personal
accomplishment, several laps around the block in front of Deacon
William James Harrison Boyd, Jr. and yet, Deacon William James
Harrison Boyd, Jr clings to ridiculous formality that makes him
look, well, ridiculous and insecure, while Bill is just Bill.
This presumptive formality is what the old folks might call
“putting on airs.” It’s like the Pharisees wearing colorful
robes with schedules of rank and big hats. It’s about self,
about elevating self and promoting self. It has nothing
whatsoever to do with God. God knows your name. You can’t
impress God by forcing people to salute you. In fact, you offend
God by elevating yourself to compete with Him.
There should only be one king at the church—God Himself.
Everybody else, pastor included, is just “Bill.”
Our tradition, however, has historically been unbiblical in that
we’ve formed all of these ranks and hierarchies within the black
church, so much so that most laymen end up spinning in circles
trying to remember everybody’s title. In the black church,
everybody’s got a title. Everybody’s got some rank. Everybody’s
jockeying for some position, trying to get another stripe on
their robe. All of which seems in direct contradiction to the
personal example of Jesus Christ, Who chastised James and
John for fussing over who would get to sit at Jesus’ right
hand [Mark 10:35-45]. These are biblical principles—Jesus telling his guys to
stop squabbling over position and rank. But we do it anyway.
Worse, the pastor allows it to go on.
One of the principal reasons our churches do not grow is the pastor.
A pastor who either does not know or understand biblical
principals of sound doctrine, or a pastor who is either too weak
or too vain to put an end to this nonsense. A pastor who can
see, in everyday functions, his church perpetuating unbiblical
practices—whether in the name of tradition or otherwise—and who
does nothing about it, needs to be fired. For he is not a pastor
at all. He is king of a coffee shop, a guy who has either been
seduced by money and power (perhaps finding both only in the
pastorate), or a guy scared of his own shadow and afraid to
stand up to people he’s supposed to be leading. Which
conjures up this vision of a frightened shepherd, standing with
his back to a precipice, being pressed on all sides by angry
sheep. Afraid to make a move because the sheep might push him
over. This is how ridiculous many of our pastors are.
Pastor: you cannot follow people you are supposed to be leading.
If they won’t let you lead, go. Get a job at Wal-Mart or
wherever. If you’re hanging around for the money and benefits,
if you’re staying in place just to keep your title or because
you’re afraid of how it might look if you left—you are an utter
disgrace to the ministry. A stench in the nostrils of God. You
are a phony, and you deserve a phony’s reward.
If it says “pastor” on your door, then be a pastor.
Don’t let the sheep push you around, and don’t allow the stupid
stuff to go on on your watch. Don’t be petty, using passive
aggression to irritate everyone around you, but be decisive and
take responsibility. Lead by example, in humility and with
restraint, in the fear of God, Who holds you directly
responsible for the nonsense going on on your watch.
Many successful churches have become insufferably corporate,
with a snobby, haughty tone of voice bristling with icy
informality. The Reverend Dr. Theodore Ellis Randolph Jackson,
Sr. The prosperous pastor, usually the white prosperous
pastor across the way, is Ted. Ted Jackson. Though he may have
an advanced degree, his measure as a pastor is not based upon
it. The degree helps, but his pastorate is based upon his being
surrendered to God’s will for his life. He doesn’t have folks
bowing and scraping around him. He doesn’t need the overlong,
formal title, and his name rarely appears painted on the side of
buses or on every piece of paper with the church’s name on it.
For Ted, the church is the important work. For many if not
most of our black pastors, their own vanity is key. Pastors,
even those with only five members, insist on listing their name,
in egregious formality, all over everything. The Reverend Dr.
Theodore Ellis Randolph Jackson, Sr. But Ted is not concerned
about his ego. Ted knows that, when God lifts him up, everybody
will know who Ted Jackson is. He won’t need to tell them. He
won’t need to plaster his name all over everything. Everybody
knows Ted and everybody knows Ted is the pastor of Grace
Fellowship. Ted is not insecure or ego-driven.
But Ted also comes from a different tradition. Ours is a
tradition of oppression and abuse, society stripping black men
of the simple dignity of being human, entitled to the same
inalienable rights as white men. The formality of The Reverend
Dr. Theodore Ellis Randolph Jackson, Sr. is steeped in that
tradition of black men needing to underline themselves and
demand respect of those around them. While I understand the
roots of this tradition, the tradition itself is not biblical.
And many, if not most, of our black pastors conduct themselves
in egregiously unbiblical ways, starting, first and foremost,
with such sinful and unnecessary self-promotion; the haughty
formality, acceptance and even encouragement of congregants to
worship the pastor more than they actually worship Christ.
There's a lot of snobbery in the black church, the leadership—typically well-off people with time on their hands who can buy their way into leadership, and educated folk—well-off or not— who are respected because of their diplomas. Assessing the worth and value of people based on academic letters or material worth is simply not biblical, but this is what we do. It's what we've always done, these terribly vain church ladies with outrageous, huge, silly hats, wearing fur at the first implication of fall. The haves parking their freshly detailed Benzes out front, while the have-nots circle the block in Hyundais looking for parking spaces.
This behavior, besides being childish, immature and cruel, is specifically not biblical (Romans 2:11). God doesn't respect one man any higher than another. We are all His children, joint heirs in Jesus Christ. The viciousness of this behavior is evidence of a poor spiritual life. How many degrees did Jesus have? Jesus was a blue-collar worker who owned nothing, had no money in the bank, and relied on the faithfulness of believers for food and board. His followers were day laborers—fishermen, a tax collector. Only Luke, the physician, had advanced schooling. None had a lot of money.
None of which is meant to denounce education or prosperity, but
to move them from the center of our focus. Most black churches
wouldn't even consider an applicant without a college degree,
which is just stupid considering Jesus didn't have one. Peter,
the first pastor, didn't have one. And these very learned men we
bring in, again and again, lead the church in circles. Their
diploma hanging on the wall, these men lack vision, and many of
them are using your church as a stepping stone to get to one
bigger. 90% of the pastoral selection processes I have observed
have been counterfeit, run by the wrong people looking for the
wrong things. The anointed leader of their congregation is often
sitting in the very next room, but they're spending thousands
flying these clowns in from Timbuktu to audition—having learned absolutely nothing from 1 Samuel 16,
running their pastoral search like a casting call for a high
school play.
I believe this conduct is a stench in the nostrils of God. I
believe the pastor should be respected because he is loved,
should be loved because he is trusted. We should call him
“pastor” because he behaves like a pastor, not because we’re
afraid of him or intimidated by him. I believe our pastors
should trust God to elevate them and not elevate themselves. I
believe our pastors should be humble enough to be embarrassed by
this constant name-dropping. I would never, ever, approve of
having my name painted on a church van. I wouldn’t need my name
plastered on every inch of church paraphernalia. Bottom line: if
I’m doing my job as pastor, people will know who I am.
The fact is, many of our pastors require all of this obeisance because they’re not doing the work of a pastor.
They're running the coffee shop. They are, in
fact, the church CEO. If that. Many of these guys are simply
insecure. The pastorate is no place for an insecure individual,
for anyone who requires external validation. For anyone who
spends even a fraction of their time worrying about themselves,
about their name recognition and all of that. It’s sin. There is
no biblical model for this childish, immature self-promotion.
And the worship of the pastor offends God, which places the
pastor at great personal peril, Aaron melting gold into an idol.
I find it terribly sad that most Church Folk would threaten to
kill you over a pastor who is beloved. One guy wanted to beat me
up for parking in the pastor’s space. Which tells me he didn’t
know the pastor at all, because this particular pastor hardly
ever parked in his own space. He parked like a person, where
everybody else parked. He didn’t get hung up on such things and,
he told me personally, I could park wherever I liked. And this
guy called me a liar and got in my face and threatened me if I
ever parked there again. Which made me wonder about the quality
of the pastor’s teaching, that this fellow could have such
undying respect and loyalty to the pastor while shaming God at
the same time.
Pastors: the conduct of your membership is a direct measure of
the quality of your leadership. These folks who bow and scrape
around you, who are the most saintly of saints and the most kind
and generous of spirit, can also be the most foul-mouthed,
mean-spirited, haughty, arrogant, nasty heifers you’ve ever seen when you are not
around. Pastors, you ought to start disguising yourself in a wig
and glasses and start hanging around some of these buffet joints
and see, for yourself, what your deacons, what your ministers are
like when you’re not around. If you truly love the Lord, the
observance of such conduct should break you, should leave you in
tears to know that your influence is virtually nonexistent and
your leadership is totally bankrupt if these folks don’t know
Jesus Christ. And it is impossible for the Spirit of the living
God to indwell within people who are cruel, who are selfish, who
are arrogant. Galatians chapter 5 provides a simple
checklist—this is easy stuff—by which we can fairly conclude
whether or not an individual knows Jesus Christ. This is not
judging, this is a reasonable evaluation of works of the flesh
and fruits of the Spirit. Grab your wig and keys and go down to
the buffet joint, see which qualities your people actually
display.
Respecting the pastor more than we respect God
Many, if not most of us, will do, say, or certainly think of the
most heinous, filthy things imaginable when we are alone or
among people we trust. I know of only a handful of Church Folk,
for instance, who don’t cuss. And I don’t mean the occasional
slip, I mean cuss like drunken sailors. And, though, by now,
nothing should surprise me, I am frequently surprised to
discover the rampant sexual immorality going on among Church
Folk. I mean, it seems like everybody’s screwing. There’s so
much screwing going on that, when Church Folk are told someone
isn’t screwing, they refuse to believe it. They classify the guy
as either a liar or gay. Or a gay liar. That’s usually their own
guilt transferring,
It fascinates me how these same folk straighten up when the
pastor enters a room, or when they bump into him on the street
or when they get that rare phone call from him. From my
experience, black pastors rarely call their congregants unless
somebody’s dead or the pastor wants something from them. In 47
years of church going, I’ve received, maybe, three or four phone
calls—in my entire life—from black pastors who just called to
say “hi.” When it’s the pastor on the phone, most of us tend to
straighten up, police our thoughts, straighten out our act.
Which is really shameful. Not that respecting your pastor is
wrong, but most of us have this all backward, policing our
behavior in those fleeting moments when the pastor is around,
while acting like morons the rest of the time—in front of God,
Who is always around. Most black Church Folk show more respect
to their pastor than to their God. And many of these pastors
just drink that up—the awkwardness, the genuflection and
submission. Power can become intoxicating and, therefore
addictive. And many of our pastors have gone astray, drunk with
your hero worship. Even sadder, many of us know this, see the
man becoming an egomaniac right before our eyes. But we’re too
scared or too intimidated to speak up, to save our pastors from
their own selves.
There’s this curious tradition of putting the pastor’s name on
everything. I mean everything, no matter how trivial. Second
Baptist Church of Meadowland Heights (as if God keeps score of
whose first), The Reverend Dr. Theodore Ellis Randolph Jackson,
Sr., Senior Pastor. I’m not sure where this tradition started,
and I’m even less sure of why pastors not only allow it to go on
but actively encourage it. In biblical times, if the chief
priests had their names inscribed on the temple walls, they’d
have been stoned. Their houses burned, their children killed.
People would have gone nuts if the priests dared to
equate themselves with God by scrawling their silly little names
on God’s house. This is how wrong we are. This is how blind we
are. This is the consequences of not knowing, not reading God’s
word. Not hiding it in our heats: we buy into traditions that
are not only unbiblical, but which are borderline sacrilege.
Pastors: get your name off the building. Off the signs. Off the
side of the church bus. It makes you seem small, a pitiful man
in need of external validation. Vanity undermines your
leadership, and all of this name-dropping is like a severely
insecure and jealous woman insisting on knowing where her man is
every second of the day. Pastors: if you are doing your job,
people will know you’re the pastor. You don’t need to tell
people you’re in charge. You don’t need to promote yourself.
Any
man (or woman) deserving to be called “pastor” should
denounce
such blatant hero worship, and should warn their flocks
that their first love must be God. If they can’t love God enough
to stop acting a fool in front of Him, then what good is the
accolades and cheers of people who are lost? People to whom the
pastor has failed, and failed miserably, to impart the most
basic fundamentals of Christian conduct. I mean, the very first
commandment: I am the Lord thy God, I will have no other Gods
before me.
Yet, there they are. Little Tin Hitlers. Impressed with
themselves, blinging, haughty, isolated, in love with the sound
of their own voice. Competitive, obsessed with numbers. Leading
a congregation either too weak, or too ignorant of God’s word,
to realize they’re being exploited.
The are two truths at work here: (1) an alarming number of our
pastors are not, in fact, called to pastor. (2) Most of us
simply don’t know God well enough to tell the difference.
It’s really easy to know whether or not your pastor is, in fact,
called to pastor or whether he just got tired of working at Home
Depot A pastor has a special anointing, a pastor’s heart. A
pastor is kind, a pastor is loving, encouraging, positive. A
pastor is an under-shepherd who guides his flock with a loving
hand, going after those who wander astray and correcting those
who need guidance. Thing about shepherds: shepherds get their
hands dirty. Shepherds lead the flock, but just as often walk
among them and, when necessary, behind them to gather up strays.
Shepherds don’t live in splendor, but are blue-collar workers.
They don’t live in ivory palaces and drive luxury cars. Farming
is hard work. It starts early in the morning and goes late at
night. In the rain. In the heat. In the icy chill.
Our pastoral tradition has evolved largely to a pantheon of arrogant
demagogues more concerned with their reflection in the mirror
than with their flock. Many of these men spend most of their
energy jockeying for position and looking to move up to a bigger
church.
The bigger problem, however, isn’t them. It’s us. It’s ministers
and laymen who simply don’t know Jesus. For, if we knew Jesus,
if we truly knew Him, we’d be just as offended by these vain,
arrogant men as I am certain God is. We would hold our pastors
accountable and not cower or, worse, look the other way.
Pulpit search committees are usually staffed by some of the
least spiritual people among us. People with no demonstrable
spiritual life are cloistered together trying to discern the
will of God. And, to my experience, 99.9% of the time, these
committees, shockingly, miss the entire lesson of First Samuel—of
David. They behave like corporate headhunters, using corporate
rules to fill a spiritual vacancy. Usually without prayer.
Usually without fasting. Motivated, more often than not, by
personal criteria of finding a pastor just like the guy who left
or died or was fired. These folks usually wear blinders, having
a kind of tunnel vision of what a pastor should look and sound
like. Or, they’re looking for a puppet they can control, a man
of few principles and fewer scruples whom they can manipulate.
Needless to say, both approaches are wrong. But this is the 99%
of pastoral searches going on. This is the way we’ve always done
it. And, after sorting through résumés looking for a doctoral
candidate or a patsy or a clone of the last guy, these folks
line up one candidate after another as these men fly in to
perform, until the church finally says yes to somebody. And this
is where these unspiritual, unprincipled guys come from, men
vulnerable to the temptations the pastorate brings. Who are
inevitably seduced by all of the pageantry and pastoral worship.
For, if these men were sold out to God, were as qualified and as
spiritual and as anointed as they claim to be, they wouldn’t be
available in the first place. They’d be locked into some work.
Churches should greet with suspicion well-established pastors
who are either looking around for a new church on the down-low,
or who are “between” churches. A pastor who is available to hire
can often take on the mindset of a hireling, and he usually
brings his luggage with him. But these are the guys who get
passed on from church to church because they do not or cannot
properly equip God’s people to make better selections. It is a
terrible and vicious cycle, and one of the chief reasons our
churches are not growing.
A friend called me last week
from a regional Baptist conference, saying he
was walking along the road back to his hotel after the
conference, watching as bus after bus after bus zoomed past him,
fogging him in diesel fumes, the names of pastors—in long,
formal, drawn-out eloquence, The Reverend Dr. Theodore Ellis
Randolph Jackson, Sr., Senior Pastor, Deacon William James
Harrison Boyd, Jr, Chairman—writ large on the side of these busses.
Not one of them offered him a ride.
The saddest part about all of this: these pastors don’t seem to
fear God, their own arrogance having gotten way out of control.
Like Kobe Bryant, they feel like they can do whatever they want
without any consequences. Like Saul, these guys are weak kings.
Petty, jealous, vain, clinging to power over their folks. When I
see guys acting like this, I have to question their motives,
their faith, their purpose. And I have to wonder how dumb these
guys have to be to tempt God the way they do, and how dumb we
have to be to follow them.
Next: Reason Three: The Invitation To Discipleship
Christopher J. Priest
22 June 2008
editor@praisenet.org
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