I Love Being a Pastor

I love being a pastor because I get to spend an hour with a 71 year old man who set up a meeting with me to, in his words, “cheer me on;” talk theology; and express his longing to communicate the Gospel to unbelievers.

I love being a pastor because I receive texts like this from a 29 year old single guy: “Over the past few weeks I’ve felt led to become part of what God is doing at West Franklin! Can we discuss what you think baptism by immersion does or does not mean?”

I love being a pastor because I get to meet with 50-something year old former Catholic who has scheduled baptism on Easter Sunday and wants to meet with me to share her journey of faith in Christ.

I love being a pastor because I get to share 60 seconds with the man I know is in AA and is finding freedom. I get to see the look on his face.

I love being a pastor because I get to see the couple who has experienced deep struggles – who I myself wondered if they would make it – walk in our building hand in hand, smiling from ear to ear.

I love being a pastor because I get an email from a mom of five who has been hurt by the church wondering if West Franklin would judge her for the baggage she brings.

I love being a pastor because I get to bring a brief word to one who just lost their dad that says, “I heard. I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m praying. Your pastor loves you.” I don’t love what is happening, mind you. I love being able to represent – hopefully – the calming presence of a compassionate God.

I love being a pastor because I get to pray with the 77 year old who has been unable to attend church due to extreme back pain that the procedure would work this time.

I love being a pastor because I get pictures and emails from a LIFE group who got up at the crack of dawn to feed and love on over 30 police men and women in our city.

I love being a pastor because I have a sixty-something year old man ask me who can mentor him for accountability and growth in godliness.

I love being a pastor because I get to watch a young wife and mother weep with gratitude over what Jesus says about money and worry (Matthew 6) because she had taken a huge step of faith two days earlier to leave her job of 14 years.

I love being a pastor because I get to see a momma do everything she possibly can to get her child to smile while on stage singing with the kids choir. (Parents will knock people down to get a picture of their child, by the way. If you sit up close when children are singing, wear extra padding. You’re likely to get an elbow or have a backside plop right in your lap.)

I love being a pastor because I get to see fingerprints on the Lord’s Supper trays. Fingerprints that represent family. Fingerprints that represent taking bread and juice. Fingerprints of sinners who were reminded they are forgiven and free children of God.

I love eating smoked meats with my church family. Heck, I love eating smoked meats with any family . . . but especially my church family. I love that you have to get there early. We all know that Jesus said, “the last shall be first.” But we also know that somebody has to be first. And we certainly don’t want to fight over who will be last.

I love being a pastor because that was all in one week.

West Franklin, I love being your pastor.