Questing Parson

Trouble In the Parish

The parson sat at the end of the table. He and several pastors from the area had gathered around a picnic table on the terrace outside the hospital cafeteria. Each was there to discuss a joint effort to combat some poverty issues in the county. Having closed the meeting they now were trading war stories about their various parishes.

Johnathan Colbolt, a pastor from the other side of the county, was on a tear about the membership of his church declining because of the presence of one particular member.

“She just has a negative attitude,” said Johnathan.

“What's she done specifically?” asked Ed Crider.

“Look, guys,” said Johnathan, apparently unaware that two of the gathered clergy were not “guys”, “it's not anything specific. It's just the woman's general attitude.”

Robert Shelton chimed in, “Sounds like you just don't like her.”

“Oh, good grief,” Johnathan protested. “Liking her has nothing to do with it. She just doesn't understand how a church is supposed to operate. We're losing members because of her. I mean in the last year we've had fifteen people start attending other churches. I know it's because of her attitude.”

“What do you think, Parson?” asked Shirley Watson.

“Johnathan,” the parson asked, “how long has she been a member of the church?”

“I suppose twenty-five years or so,” said Johnathan. “She's been attending there all her life. Her family goes there. I guess she probably joined when she was a teenager.”

“How long have you been pastor there?” asked the parson.

“Two years, why?”

“Just wondering,” said the parson.

Showing Up

The coffee maker in the church kitchen had just finished its last gurgle prior to the pot filling as the parson walked back into the room. He shivered at the chill. The valley in which the parson lived was enveloped in cold this morning. As soon as the coffee was poured the parson darted back to the warmth of his study with its heater.

The parson has barely sipped half the cup of coffee and browsed through the first three articles of an online newspaper, when there was a knock on the door. He rose and opened it to find Jeremiah Collins, a young pastor from the other side of the county.

“Morning, Jeremiah,” the parson greeted. “What brings you out this early? Come on in.”

“Morning, Parson,” responded Jeremiah. “I hope you don't mind but I just wanted to stop in.”

“No, not at all. Glad to see you. Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, thanks, Parson. Thanks anyway, but I just finished breakfast.”

“Have a seat,” the parson said as he pointed toward the sofa. The parson settled himself into his rocker. He reached over and retrieved his coffee cup nad downed the remaining liquid.

The parson and Jeremiah exchanged pleasantries, inquiries about each other's parish, news of mutual clergy friends and such for about twenty minutes.

“Listen, Parson,” Jeremiah finally said with a tone that indicated the direction of the conversation was about to change. “Every morning I drive my daughter to school. And almost every morning I see your car here at the church. I'm just curious. Why are you here this early in the morning? This isn't a big church; you're retired. I don't get it. I don't know anyone else who kinda clocks in like you do.”

The parson smiled, rocked back and forth a few times, and then replied, “You know, Jeremiah. I got in the habit of this many, many years ago.”

Jeremiah interrupted, “But what's the point.”

“The point is, Jeremiah,” said the parson, “way back in the last century I discovered about seventy-five percent of ministry is simply showing up.”

The Secret of Staying Around

Jeff Huntshire, a new pastor in the area, opened the rear door of the fellowship hall of the parson's church. He stepped out in the yard and paused a moment to observe the parson at his labor.

The parson had the two deep fry pans from the church's regional fair concession stand propped up, one on each side, on a large charcoal grill, the kind with the cover over the grill portion. The parson was scrubbing mightily on one of the pans with a scouring pad.

“Parson, you're really putting a mighty effort into that,” said Jeff.

“Hello, Jeff,” said the parson. “It's good to see you. What brings you into this part of the woods.” Jeff was a new pastor who decided to enter the ministry while a member of a church where the parson was pastor. He had been ordained just a few months ago and appointed to as Associate Pastor at a church an hour's ride to the west of the parson's parish.

“I'm heading up to Frank Collins' cabin in the mountains. You remember Frank. He was in that seminar you conducted back in February.”

“I do,” said the parson. “Didn't the bishop appoint him to a church near Augusta?”

“That's him,” said Jeff. “Anyway his family has this cabin up the way a bit. I'm meeting him there and we're going to do some hiking. Want to come?”

“I wish I could,” said the parson, “but I'm a bit tied up with things this week.”

“Looks like you're really tied up with this cleaning,” said Jeff.

“Aw, it's not as bad as it looks. The grease has just been baked on a bit. But if you know the tricks of the trade you can get it done.”

With that the parson opened the hood of the grill. He pulled out an aerosol can of industrial strength oven cleaner. He sprayed it all over the pan he wasn't scrubbing. Having done so, he replaced the canister under the grill cover. He directed a stream of water over the container he'd just scrubbed, occasionally using the scouring pad on specific spots. He then took a towel and dried it completely. After inspecting it he set it aside on a small table to the left.

Now the parson began scrubbing the second container. As he did so he and Jeff kept up a steady stream of conversation about Jeff's new appointment, the appointments of common acquaintances, and general church matters.

The parson rinsed the second container off with the hose. He inspected it. He then opened the cover of the grill again and removed the oven cleaner. This time he directed the spray at specific places on the container. He let it sit a moment and then began scrubbing again, but only after placing the oven cleaner under the cover again.

“You know, Parson,” said Jeff, “if I didn't know better I'd think you're trying to keep that oven cleaner hidden.”

The parson smiled. “Ah, Jeff, you've discovered the secret of my longevity in this parish.”

Jeff wrinkled his brow. “I don't understand.”

“Look, Jeff,” said the parson, “preachers are a dime a dozen. But effective pot scrubbers are hard to find.”

Bishop Willimon ~ We Have A Slight Difference Of Opinion

Let’s get the disclaimers out of the way before I begin this writing:

First, I’m a William Willimon groupie. It’s kind of strange to say that since I’m a good bit older than this  United Methodist Bishop with the prolific pen and penetrating mind. Nevertheless, since hearing him preach while he was Dean of the Duke University Chapel, I’ve read many, if not most, of his writings and have followed his career with interest. (Granted the last six years I’ve been following him to derive the answer to the question: Why would anyone give up being Dean of the Chapel at Duke University to become a bishop?)

Second, I am about to take issue with Bishop Willimon’s assessment of what makes an effective pastor. But, according to Bishop Willimon’s calculations, I am an effective pastor. This will be explained below.

Now, with the above being said, let me respond to a United Methodist News Service Commentary by Bishop William Willimon titled “Effective Clergy By the Numbers.”

In his opening two paragraphs, the Bishop states:

                How do we Methodists define effective clergy?
                We do it with one word: growth. Effective clergy
                know how to grow the church in its membership,
                witness and mission.

                 In North Alabama, we now have a “Conference
                 Dashboard” that every church logs in Monday
                morning and reports its numbers for that Sunday’s
                attendance, baptisms, professions of faith, offering
               and participation in mission.

Let’s give it up for the Bishop as regards the latter part of that statement. The North Alabama churches report their participation in mission (I assume for the preceding week.). That’s definitely a step in the right direction. I’ve been filling out United Methodist Annual Conference reports for four decades and so far the only thing I’ve been asked is how much and how many (The other parts of the North Alabama Conference reports). Here lies my bone of contention:

The Bishop, after giving a nod of the head toward a church’s involvement in mission, then uses his entire commentary to make his case for judging on numbers based on Wesleyan tradition. The Bishop says, “The push back we have received in this endeavor (judging clergy effectiveness by counting how many) has surprised me. In nearly every group of clergy in which I’ve discussed our work, there is always someone to repeat at least one of these mindless mantras. ‘It’s all about numbers, is it?’ ‘You can’t measure clergy effectiveness, can you?’ ‘So it’s come to this: putting the butts in the pews.’ Yada, yada, yada.”

With all due respect, Bishop, at this point in your commentary you have, I fear, denigrated the work of the little country church for which I have been privileged to serve as a retired supply pastor for the last six years. That, unintended relegation of my congregation to an unimportant status, results from the fact that, as noted above, once you gave a passing nod to “participation in mission” your commentary chronicles the history of “counting how many” as a true Wesleyan tradition and in the course of that you relate several incidents in which this is historically true. I note, however, in passing, that all of your references come from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, a time of tremendous church growth in the Western world, and you make no allowance for the complexities of growing a church in a world where the church’s reputation and influence is not nineteenth century, or even twentieth century, for that matter.

Here’s the crux of the matter, Bishop:

By your contentions, I am an effective pastor. This little congregation has grown in the past six year. This current year would no doubt bring a “high five” from you as the percentage of growth is significant with the majority of them being by profession of faith. Dizzy Dean said, Bishop, “If it’s true it ain’t bragging.” So, it ain’t bragging when I say the percentage of growth here in this little valley is going to make some other pastors look, by your judgment, really, really ineffective.

My problem with your thesis, Bishop, is that these numbers don’t matter in the overall scheme of here in our little corner of the world. What matters is this: This church provides some really impressive ministries. Most of the ministries our church does on its own, but sometimes we partner with that big and rich First Church down the road, but always on a fifty-fifty basis.

 Every year when school starts every child in this county, certified as “in need” by the school system family advocates, receives a new book bag. The book bag is filled with enough grade appropriate school supplies for the first semester. The bag also contains new clothes selected specifically for that child. {Picture, if you will, Bishop, an eight-year-old girl standing on the front porch of the church and exclaiming with tears in her eyes, “Oh, look, Mommy, these are new!”] Each of those children also get checked for and treated, when necessary, for lice. And they get a free trip to the barber or the hair salon.

Every New Year’s Day this little church provides a meal of turnip greens and black-eyed peas and cornbread and lots of fellowship for any who want to come, but particularly the senior citizens of the community. Have you ever considered that New Years Day is a lonely holiday for many. The family doesn’t come; there are no presents. There’s just an empty house. But that’s not true in this community because of this little ministry.

This congregation, when the school board cut funding, stepped in and provided needed supplies for the school nurse at the school with the county’s most impoverished pupils. This congregation also provides all the family advocates of the school system with undies to be distributed to elementary students who need such.

Up above I mentioned we cooperated on that “Back-to-School Project” on a fifty-fifty basis with that big old First Church. We also cooperate with them to provide for two transitional houses for women with children in this county. This support includes the costs of social workers and other needed services from the homeless arm of the conference.

The congregation recently brought high speed internet service into the church in preparation for the Internet Café that will be in place when school begins next August . Turns out there are a significant number of children in the schools a mile up the road from us who have no internet access at home. Now they can do their school work needing internet access at the church. Additionally, adults can apply for jobs online.

And then there’s the Soup Supper Monday, every Monday for the last three years. It started to provide a free meal for the many, many unemployed folks in this county when the economy was so bad. Now it includes the youth of the church delivering more meals to homebound and sick people than we serve at the church.

Have I mentioned this little congregation of 120 on the books, but about 80 in fact, is the largest single financial supporter of the work of a missionary in Peru?

The point is, Bishop, each of these ministries (and those listed here are not all) that touch the lives of so many of God’s needful children are tremendously more important than the numbers I report. You see, Bishop, the growth that’s started in this little congregation is not the result of me being effective. I am effective, Bishop, because these people are in mission, are putting others before themselves, are seeking to serve Christ in the corner of the world where they have been planted.

It’s a struggle, Bishop. This is a poor county. These are not rich people. We have a lot of yard sales and a whole lot of bean suppers. But the Lord provides a way. (If you’re interested I can sell you a $5 raffle ticket for $250 in free food at a really fancy restaurant up the road.)  I have a feeling the Lord’s provided the means because this congregation didn’t wait until they got an “effective pastor” to add numbers. They just started being in mission. That’s what made their pastor effective. It’s not about me, Bishop. It’s about a church that has an open door, an open heart, and an open mind.

I do understand the point of your commentary, Bishop Willimon. But I think sometimes we get the emphasis on the wrong syl-LAB-le

Okay, Bishop Willimon, you’re still my hero, and when your next book comes out I’ll most likely read it, if I have enough time while serving this church. You know, you might think about this as a theme for a book: The mission statement of our church is: “The mission of the Church is to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world.” Maybe the best way to “effectively” carry out that mission is: “To be a disciple of Jesus Christ.”