The parson rose from his desk to answer the knock on his door.
“Hey, James, how are things going?”
“They’re up and down.”
“Well, now that’s interesting,” said the parson. “Which is it today, up or down?”
“I suppose its down,” said the younger pastor.
“Well, how did things get down?”
“I’m not really sure. Maybe I’m just depressed.”
“Depression’s not good, James. Have a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“If you don’t mind, that would be nice,” said James as he plopped himself on the parson’s study sofa.
“Black? Cream? Sugar?” the parson asked.
“Black’s fine.”
“You know this is unleaded, don’t you?” the parson asked.
“Unleaded?”
“Yeah, unleaded. You know, decaf. I haven’t had caffeine since the heart attack.”
“That will be fine,” said James as he began to study the books on the parson’s shelves.
The parson handed him a cup in the saucer and settled himself into a rocker across from the sofa. He placed his feet on the coffee table and pushed himself back. After sipping a stream of the liquid down his throat he asked, “How long have you been at Stepping Stone Church, James?”
“This is my second year.”
“Do you like it?”
“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I hate it.”
“Today, you hate it, I guess.”
“Yes, sir. Today it’s not much fun.”
“Tell me what’s stirring things up,” said the parson.
“How’d you know things are stirred up?” James asked.
“It’s a church,” said the parson, “periodically things get stirred up. So, what stirred the pot this time.”
“I’m having some difficulty with some of the members.”
“That’s a very non-descriptive word, difficulty, James. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Okay, there are some folks in the church that just want to take charge. I mean, they just insist on putting their two cents in whenever they get some half-baked idea about something the church ought to do. . . .”
The parson interrupted, “Are these folks laity or staff?”
“They’re lay people. Lay women, to be exact.”
“What half-baked idea did they come up with?” the parson asked.
“They want to set up a birthday store in the church basement,” James said as he shifted his position on the sofa.
“What’s a birthday store?” asked the parson.
“They want to have a place where poor people can come to get birthday presents for their kids when there’s a birthday. The people who come are supposed to be ones that cannot afford to get presents.”
“This is a bad idea?” The parson took his feet off the coffee table and placed the now empty coffee cup down.
“I think it’s a bad idea,” said James.
“What’s the problem with it?” asked the parson. He was not leaning forward in the rocker.
“The problem is this will bring all sorts of people to the church to get freebies. These women are telling the Department of Family and Children Services about this and asking them to refer indigent mothers to our church.”
“That’s the problem?”
“Of course, that’s the problem. Imagine how many of those folks will be coming to the church everyday when those welfare people find out about the give-aways our congregation is providing. We could end up having a thousand people a month take advantage of this.”
“Bear with me, James,” said the parson. “I’m getting up in years and sometimes I don’t follow the logic as I used to. Where’s the problem here?”
“I just told you.”
“You told me that you might end up helping thousands of mothers provide birthday presents for their kids.”
“Precisely.”
“And that’s a problem? It sounds like a delightful ministry these lay women have come up with, James. And if a thousand shows up to take advantage of it, wouldn’t you have accomplished the purpose?”
“I can’t believe you think we should let people like that take advantage of us.”
“People like who?”
“Those women on welfare.”
“I’m sorry, James. But I thought you were talking about providing birthday presents for children who wouldn’t have them otherwise.”
“Those women say that’s what we’re doing, but it’s not going to happen as long as I’m pastor of the church,” James said in a slightly raised voice.
The parson noticed the veins on his guest’s neck standing out and the redness coming to his face. “Whoa, here, James, don’t get your pants in a wad. Think about this for a moment.”
“I’ve thought about it all I’m going to. It’s not going to happen.”
The parson paused for a moment. Buying time to gather his thoughts, he asked James if he’d like more coffee. When it was declined, the parson gathered up the coffee cups and saucers and took them to the sink in the kitchen. He returned, sat in the rocker again and asked, “James, did this project come out of some women just taking it upon them to do this or was it part of the church program?”
“It was a concoction of the Missions Work Area.”
“So, a duly elected committee, following their idea of what their purpose was, initiated this project as part of their responsibility.”
“Did they do it according to the rules? Yes, I guess they did. But that doesn’t make it right. And it’s not going to happen while I’m pastor there.”
“Why not, James?”
“Because I’m the Chief Executive Officer of the church and I say what happens.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m the CEO!”
“Where did you get that idea?”
“The church is a business. It should be run as a business. I’m appointed there to be the head of the business.”
“No, you’re not.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not appointed to be the CEO of anything. You’re appointed to be the shepherd of the flock; the servant of Christ. You keep up this business of being the CEO, you’re going to be in trouble in your ministry.”
“But, I ….”
The parson held up his hand for James to stop. He walked over to his bookcase and removed the Discipline of the church (the church’s rules). He laid the book on the sofa next to James and said, “Show me in there, under ‘Duties of the Pastor’, where it says you’re the CEO.”
James picked the book up and slammed it down on the coffee table. He sat back in the cushions of the sofa and stared out the window behind the parson.
“Listen to me, James. Try to understand this. Don’t ever get into a pissing contest with your laity. You’ll lose. Pastors come and go but they’ll be sitting in the pews and dreaming up new projects throughout all the comings and the goings. You have just as much power, just as much authority as those people are willing to give you, not one bit more. You’ll never get any authority by trying to dictate. You get it by being part of their lives, by leading them in service.”
“I’m not going to lead them into giving handouts to people who don’t take care of themselves.”
“What about you, James? What about the handouts you’ve gotten.”
“I’ve never taken a handout in my life,” James shouted.
The parson paused, looking intently at the sad person before him. Then he responded, “I believe you, James. I believe you. The sad thing about that is you didn’t take the handout when it was offered you.”
“No one ever offered me a handout.”
“Oh, yes, James. The handout was God’s grace. And you should pray earnestly that the Lord will offer it to you once more. And when the Lord does, take the handout, James, take it as though your very ministry, and your very soul, depended upon it.”
James stared at the parson for a pregnant moment. Then he rose, walked to the door and slammed it behind him as he stomped down the porch steps and away.
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