It was about 10 years ago now. I was young(er), pretty restless, and newly Reformed. I didn’t know much other than that I loved Jesus and want to preach. I had imbibed a few liters of Spurgeon, heard some John Piper quotes, and was dreaming big.
These are good things, then and now; unless perhaps, you are a member at a contemporary evangelical mega-church.
That was my situation. The church was wildly Arminian. However, to be fair, most thoughtful Arminians would distance themselves from them. They were doctrinally ambivilent, subjectively moored, and governed by pragmatism. So much so that they did not care that some young-buck like me was basically preaching the doctrines of grace in a Sunday school class. After all, it was growing.
As my convictions grew I felt more and more out of place. I was broken by the trajectory of the church. They seemed to be exchanging the authority of Scripture and premenence of Christ for feelings, programs and capital campaigns. I had to do something. I couldn’t let it be.
I tried to get a meeting with the pastor. He was something of a rock-star at our church. He ignored my emails and requests. His secretary kept me at arm’s length so like a good pastoral bouncer. At the same time I needed to let him know about my concerns. I loved this church.
Finally, through a conncetion with one of his associates, I got in there. I was told that I had 30 minutes. I was going to make it count. I went through my outline (yes, it was typed out). I pleaded with him in shameless tears about the centrality of the gospel, the Scriptures, and the church.
He sat stoic. He was unmoved. He just stared at me.
Finally he interrupted and said, “I think you should go to a different church.”
I was pretty shocked. Remember I am a brand new Christian. I was converted out of a background that had no biblical framework. Now I am in love with these people, this church, Christ and his gospel. I am young and I know it. But I love Christ and I know it. He did not see me as one of the sheep, someone to pour into and grow. Instead, I was part of the problem. In his view I was trouble; an outsider on the inside.
Some of you might be thinking, “Hey you sound like the guy in The Most Dangerous Person at Your Church post.” I was not, and this is why: I was not getting and rebuffing pastoral counsel and active shepherding. My only pastoral counsel was that I should leave.
Do you see how this guy dribbled the ball off of his leg?
A pastor cares about his people. He loves, guards, feeds, and cares for the sheep. If I was in error then a good pastor should sit down and work through things. He should help me. He should teach me. He should protect me and the church (John 21.15-19; Acts 20.17-35; 1 Pet. 5.1-3; 1 Tim. 3; Titus 1.5-16; Heb. 13.7, 13). He cannot allow me in my untempered zeal to go immaturely limping off with dangerous theological and methodilogical bombs strapped to my chest. This isn’t good for me or the universal church. Right?
What he did in this brief 30 minute meeting was probably more valuable than a year of seminary. He showed me the ugliness of a disengaged pastor. Years later when I became a pastor I looked just as much back to him as what I didn’t want to be as I did at the biblical models I aspired after. In God’s providence this lousy pastor made a profound and lasting impact on me, and by extension, our local church. I can truly thank God for this painful and instructive time of pastoral training.