Alone At the Cross

Rev. Frederick Schmidt, who blogs at Patheos, wrote some words in a post about the Archbishop of Canterbury which describe better the challenges of pastoral leadership better than any I’ve seen before.  I’m quoting large parts of his latest post, bolding the sentences that hit me the hardest, because he says so well what I’ve been thinking that I want to make sure I can read these words again the next time I become completely discouraged in my life as pastor:

One, the leadership role of a pastor, priest, bishop, or archbishop (in this case) is different from almost any other leadership role on the face of the earth. Clergy are called upon to provide guidance along the subtle frontiers that lie between where the church has been and where the Holy Spirit might be leading the church. They are called upon to witness to the truth of Gospel, but they are also called upon to provide soul care for those who sin and struggle. As a matter of vocation, as well as conscience, they are required to form their own opinions about God’s truth, but they are keenly aware (or should be) that their view of the truth and the truth itself are not necessarily the same thing. God alone remains God. Their understanding of who God is and what God wants is always fragmentary and fallible.

Two, the institutions that they lead are among the hardest on the face of the earth to shepherd. Participation in the life of the church is entirely voluntary. Its leaders cannot make anyone do anything. They do not enjoy the sanctions available to the state or to employers. There are very few people that they can fire. There is little in the way of sanctions that they can impose on people who dissent from their views of how things ought to be. They rely entirely on suasion—theological and spiritual—to convince people that they should follow.

Three, all of this is done today in an environment that is radically different from the one in which the church operated scarcely a half century ago. Not long ago, largely homogeneous expressions of Christianity lived out their lives in discrete parts of the globe, made decisions that accorded with their understanding of the faith, and did it all with relatively little reaction from other parts of the world. Roll the clock back far enough and there was a time when we knew little about what the church was doing in other parts of the world.

Now people living in Singapore respond to decisions made in the United States within seconds. Just how quickly the environment in which clergy are working has changed is illustrated by simply listing the technology and technological infrastructure that didn’t exist ten years ago, just before Williams assumed his office. Stunningly, the list includes Gmail, Google maps, Facebook, Twitter, iPods, iPhones, and iPads.

Four, along with that close proximity in which we live has come the expectation that the church will change—or not—and a decision must be made now. Gone is the notion that it might be hard to know what God wants and the notion that we are obliged to wait on God. Gone too is the notion that to be a part of the body of Christ is to value its unity as a witness to God’s work through her. Gone is the notion that God’s leading is discerned in community—sometimes far more slowly and painfully than mere mortals might like. Now, we know what we know. We know it for a certainty and we want it now.

To lead this completely volunteer association, where people can and do say, “I’ll never come back to this church as long as (insert name here) is pastor,” often means that we choose to be liked rather than choosing to be holy.  I’m often reminded that Jesus died almost completely alone at the cross.  He did what was right, but no one was happy about it and nearly everyone deserted him.

Just one of those days when I am aware again that I my calling as pastor leads me into waters so challenging that my only recourse is to stay on my knees and pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”