The Pastor's Soul, Role, and Home.

What’s Your Motive?

During my days in seminary, I formed a habit that has helped me immensely throughout almost 50 years of pastoral ministry. I had my artistic sister, Luci, print a simple, three-word question on a small rectangular card I placed on the wall above the desk where I spent so much of my time.

Just black letters on a white card, with a bold question mark at the end:

WHAT’S YOUR MOTIVE?

I no longer have the card, but the question is now indelibly etched on my mind. I ask it almost every day of my life. It has proven to be an essential checkpoint I now apply on a regular basis:

Why are you planning this?

What’s the reason behind your doing that?

Why did you say yes (or no)?

What is the motive for writing that letter?

Why are you excited over this opportunity?

What causes you to bring up that subject?

Why did you mention his or her name?

What’s your motive, Swindoll?

Searching, probing, penetrating questions.

Because the path of servanthood is so perilous, we need to cultivate a sensitive walk with God marked by obedience.

—Chuck

Three Timely Lessons for Pastors

In recent posts, I have written about God’s servants feeling used and unappreciated, experiencing undeserved disrespect and resentment, and having hidden greed—a desire to be rewarded.

From these very real and common perils, there emerge at least three timely lessons for all of us pastors to remember.

Lesson one: no servant of God is completely safe. A tough truth to accept! We who give and give become increasingly more vulnerable as time passes (read John 15:20). Truth be told, there are times we’ll get ripped off. We will be
used . . . even misused. We will feel unappreciated. But realizing ahead of time this will happen, we are better equipped to handle it when it comes. The proper perspective will guard us against stumbling into peril. Lean hard on the Master when you serve others.

Lesson two: most of our deeds will be initially unrewarded. That’s a basic axiom we must live with and accept (read Hebrews 6:10). If you are the type of minister who needs a lot of strokes from people, who has to be appreciated before you can continue very long, you’d better reexamine your motives. More often than not, you will be overlooked, passed up, placed behind the scenes, and remain virtually unknown. Your reward will not come from without but from within. Not from people but from the satisfaction God gives you down inside.

Much of the ministry requires this mentality. We pastors may stand at the door of the church following our sermons and shake hands with the flock as everybody says nice things about us (my friend Howard Hendricks calls this “the glorification of the worm,” a description I certainly agree with). But in reality, if we preach for those few moments of flattery—and most of us don’t—we are in the wrong business.

Lesson three: all motives must be honestly searched. Before jumping to a conclusion or making a decision, think to ask yourself why (read Acts 24:16). Before accepting any tangible gifts of gratitude (and there are occasions when such is perfectly acceptable), probe into your reason for doing so.

Let’s continually check our motives, fellow servant.

—Chuck

Hidden Greed

The prophet Elisha’s servant, Gehazi, was the bearer of news the Syrian officer, Naaman, did not want to hear. As a result, the soldier threw a fit. But do you know what later happened to Naaman? He finally did precisely what he was told to do, and he received the miraculous result he had been promised (2 Kings 5:14).

Unlike many people whom you and I may help in the ministry, Naaman returned to thank Elisha and Gehazi. He was so overwhelmed, he offered a sizable gift of gratitude. Elisha refused any tangible thank you (5:15–19). But that’s not the end of the account. Naaman offered Gehazi a gift as well. Deep within the heart of Elisha’s servant crouched a silent beast of the soul. It is perhaps the subtlest peril every pastor or servant of God must endure: hidden greed.

This is the secret, smoldering desire to be rewarded, applauded, and exalted. Elisha said, “No.” No way did he want to the soldier ever to say, “Elisha did it for what he would get out of it,” which prompted the prophet to respond as he did—“I will take nothing” (5:16). But Gehazi was cut from another piece of cloth. Maybe he was weary of feeling used and unappreciated, or perhaps he made just enough to get by on a shoestring. Whatever his reasoning, he possessed some strong personal feelings, since he second-guessed Elisha’s decision (5:20), falsified the story when he met up with Naaman (5:22), and attempted to cover his tracks when he later stood before his master (5:25). Gehazi’s end was tragic.

Exposed and sternly judged, Gehazi experienced a horrible punishment—leprosy (5:25–27). Gehazi had not only gone against the decision of the prophet, he had lied to him when confronted with his deeds.

The servant was accountable! Accountability is essential in order for any servant of God to remain pure and pliable clay in the Master’s hand.

Frankly, I’m grateful such extreme consequences don’t happen to us today when our motives are wrong. If they did, churches would be full of people with leprosy—starting with mine. How essential is this reminder!

—Chuck

Good Will Come

As a pastor, counselor, and seminary chancellor, I have often found myself in an unpopular spot. An individual who has come to me pours out his or her soul. And God very clearly leads me to confront or point out a few specifics that the person finds rather painful to hear, not to mention accept.

Suddenly, I become the verbal punching bag.

Now understand, I didn’t write the Book, and I in no way view myself as the individual’s judge, even though the person may think I do. But I have had counselees scream at me, curse, stomp out of the room, and share with me a piece of their mind they couldn’t afford to lose. Some wait until later and write me one of those flaming missiles that burns your eyes when you read it.

And what did I do to deserve that treatment? I told the truth. I simply carried a message as tactfully and well-timed as possible, but it was rejected—at least for a while.

But the payoff comes later when the person realizes the truth was told and I really had his or her good at heart.

I suppose the moral of the story is this: being God’s servant may not be very pleasant or safe, but when you do and say what is right—unpopular though it may be—good will come.

Or better, in the words of Solomon:

When a man’s ways are pleasing to the Lord,
He makes even his enemies to be at peace with him. (Proverbs 16:7)

—Chuck

Dealing with Disrespect and Resentment

All of us pastors remember a man named Naaman, the high-ranking Syrian soldier. He was influential, wealthy, proud—a man of dignity, courage, patriotism, and military clout. There was only one problem: the man had leprosy. Through a chain of interesting events, Naaman was led to Elisha for cleansing from his dread disease (2 Kings 5:1–14).

It fell to Elisha’s servant to be the bearer of news the Syrian officer did not want to hear. As we read in the account, the high-ranking soldier was offended. In fact, he became enraged. And look who was caught in the crossfire—the servant! The dear guy didn’t generate the news, he just communicated it . . . and boom! The result? Feeling and hearing the verbal blows of disrespect and resentment. You probably know where I’m going with this.

There are times when God’s servant is called upon to confront or in some way tell another person the truth that the individual does not want to hear. (One of the tough responsibilities of the pastorate.) The information may be painful to accept, but it is what God wants said. So the faithful servant says it. Graciously yet accurately. And all of a sudden the lid blows sky high. He is caught in the crossfire. What do you do in such precarious moments? Fight back? Yell and scream and threaten in return? Search for a quiet pastorate way out in the country?

Listen to God’s counsel to servants whose job it is to say hard things:

The Lord’s bond-servant must not be quarrelsome, but be kind to all, able to teach, patient when wronged, with gentleness correcting those who are in opposition, if perhaps God may grant them repentance leading to the knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil, having been held captive by him to do his will.
(2 Timothy 2:24–26)

What wise counsel! Not quarrelsome, but kind. Not irritated, but patient . . . even when wronged. Not angry, but gentle.

God may be using your words to help the hearers “come to their senses,” which may sound very noble. But, believe me, there are times it’s not a lot to write home about. Hang tough. Stand firm. Never compromise. But remember how Paul said to communicate truth: be kind . . . be patient . . . with gentleness.

—Chuck

To Serve and to Give

We pastors are God’s true servants when we are like the Lord Jesus, who came not “to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

To serve and to give . . . that’s the ticket.

Pride wants strokes—lots of them. It loves to get the credit, to be mentioned, to receive glory, to have people ooh and ahh. Ideally, your flock and your elders will be thoughtful people who give you the credit you deserve, but, regrettably, that will not always occur. And your pride will need to be held in check.

At those tough times when you do the work and someone else gets the strokes, or when nobody notices or even seems to care, remember your role: to serve and to give.

True love flowing from authentic servants does not keep a record of who did what, and it does not look to others to give the credit. In other words, real servants stay conscious of the blindness pride can create.

—Chuck

Feeling Used and Unappreciated

When I think of someone who may have felt used and unappreciated, Gehazi comes to mind. He was the servant who worked alongside the high-profile, greatly respected prophet, Elisha.

After the Shunammite’s son suddenly died, Elisha dispatched Gehazi to the bedside of the mother’s son. We can be sure Gehazi’s heart was beating fast. He must have anticipated an exciting response, as God would surely raise the lad from death. He would be involved in a miracle! But nothing happened. Not a thing changed.

Suddenly, Elisha burst on the scene, and phenomenal results occurred. A miracle transpired. The child was raised!

Try to identify with Gehazi. As you do so, you’ll feel some of the very human feelings the man must have felt. Serve others long enough and you’ll periodically dip into this valley. Gehazi had done exactly what he was told to do. Yet he had witnessed no change, no miracle. In came Elisha who suddenly did it all. And guess who was given the assignment to tell the mother? Gehazi!

And if that isn’t sufficient, a famine struck the area, and our friend Gehazi was told to whip up a pot of stew. Inadvertently, poisonous plants were dropped into the crockpot, and everybody cried out! But Elisha showed up and fixed the problem—again.

Gehazi had done the work . . . but Elisha got all the credit. I mean, the servant couldn’t even make stew! How frustrated can a guy get?

So it is with serving in God’s work today. It is easy to feel used and unappreciated.

Do I write to you who serve behind the scenes in ministry? You do your work faithfully and diligently, yet the glory goes to another. Your efforts make someone else successful. Or perhaps as a senior pastor you do much more than preach—but nobody notices most of those other things. How easy to feel disappointed, even resentful! Let me urge you to take heart! Our God who rewards in secret will never overlook your commitment.

For God is not unjust so as to forget your work and the love which you have shown toward His name, in having ministered and in still ministering to the saints. (Hebrews 6:10)

A great verse for those of you who feel used and unappreciated. In fact, I suggest that you do what I have done: commit it to memory. You will find yourself repeating those words over and over again.

—Chuck

Some Common Misconceptions, Part 2

Last week, I reminded us pastors that we have no special powers in ourselves. That’s a major misconception. Our adequacy comes from God . . . and God alone.

Another misconception is that those in the ministry don’t struggle with everyday problems. To set that straight, let’s consider 2 Corinthians 4:8–9:

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed. (2 Corinthians 4:8–9)

Afflicted. Perplexed. Persecuted. Struck down. These terms reflect the struggles common to all of us in ministry. Under stress, confused, pursued, rejected—Paul (and every servant of God since his day) understands what it means to endure the constant blast of problems in those and other categories. In fact, it is in the crucible that the servant learns to release his or her way for God’s way. Servants do indeed struggle with daily difficulties . . . and we pastors are no exception.

A final misconception goes like this: Christian leaders are protected against subtle dangers. To correct this error, we need to read verses 10–11:

[We are] always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. For we who live are constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. (2 Corinthians 4:10–11)

How true! Those of us who serve God and others “carry about in the body” signs of death—dangers and perils that are undeniable. Subtle and silent, these dangers lurk in the most unexpected places, pleading for satisfaction. The true servant is vulnerable. When the servant stumbles into these traps, it isn’t long before he or she is completely ensnared. And have you noticed? It seldom happens fast or boldly. Usually, it comes on the scene in another garb entirely, appearing to be anything but dangerous.

So let’s not be misled, fellow servants of God, no matter how useful, godly, unselfish, and admirable you think you are. We are every bit as human and subject to the perils of life as any other person on earth.

—Chuck

Some Common Misconceptions, Part 1

Does it surprise you that being a pastor is perilous? I doubt it. You live with the reality of it each day.

But to some who are not in the ministry, serving others sounds as safe and harmless as a poached egg on a plate. What could possibly be perilous about it? Plenty.

As we examine Paul’s words in the fourth chapter of 2 Corinthians, I’d like to suggest several familiar misconceptions regarding serving God. Read the familiar words in verses four through seven carefully:

The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelieving so that they might not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not preach ourselves but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your bond-servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Light shall shine out of darkness,” is the One who has shone in our hearts to give the Light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves. (2 Corinthians 4:4–7)

Sounds like servants comprise an elite body of people, doesn’t it? They possess a treasure. The “surpassing greatness” of God’s power pours out of their lives. But when you look closely, you detect that all of that is of God, not themselves. We pastors know this for a fact, don’t we?

This introduces us to a misconception: pastors have special powers in themselves. How very easy it is for our flocks to look at us through rose-colored glasses! It’s almost as if we possess a mystical, divine unction or some angelic “mantle” that causes us to ooze with supernatural, heaven-sent power. But this is wrong! Look at an earlier verse:

Not that we are adequate in ourselves to consider anything as coming from ourselves, but our adequacy is from God. (2 Corinthians 3:5)

We have no special powers in ourselves. Next week, I’ll offer a couple more misconceptions.

But for now, mark it well: we pastors are 100% human, filled with all the weaknesses and potential for failure that characterize every other human being. In light of that, be careful!

—Chuck

The Perils of a Servant

Nobody who was alive in the 1970s will ever forget Jonestown. At least, I hope not. That tragedy stands as a mute reminder of the awful results of a leader gone wild.

I shall never be able to erase from my mind the same horrible scene that appeared on one television newscast after another. It was not just death but a mass suicide—over nine hundred bloated corpses in the steamy jungle of Guyana. People lying there in rows, “looking like full-grown rag dolls,” was how one reporter described them. Except for a few defectors who managed to escape at the last minute, every soul in that cult compound gave up his or her life as the leader demanded.

Whoever takes the time to investigate the evidence that led to such a bizarre atrocity soon discovers that the man at the top (who claimed to be a servant of God) fell into the trap that has ruined many a strong, natural leader.

Beneath every dreadful photograph of that unforgettably sick scene could be written the same five-word caption: THE PERIL OF LIMITLESS CONTROL. Rather than remaining a true servant of God and gentle shepherd of the people, instead of modeling humility, teachability, and unselfishness, Jim Jones eroded into an empty shell of authoritarianism, sensuality, and unaccountability . . . an arrogant, untouchable prima donna who fell into the clutches of his own lust and pride.

Most every calling and occupation carries with it peculiar hazards—some subtle, some obvious. It’s not just the steeplejack or submarine crew or high-rise window washers or S.W.A.T. teams who face perils in their work. We all do. No exceptions.

Including pastors. That’s you and me.

—Chuck