Village Shepherd

Note: There is no content for Proper 4 / OT 9 / Pentecost 2 from The Village Shepherd. This excerpt is a substitute for subscribers of The Village Shepherd.

He had grown up in a fashionable suburb of a large American city, a cosmopolitan area of considerable size and sophistication. He was a winner from the time he was born; you know, one of those babies that comes into the world with a smile and a confident air that life is friendly and meant for success. Oh, yes, he did his share of crying, and as an infant and pre-schooler, he had his share of sickness. But all in all, he was the kind of boy you would expect to see in a prize-winning television commercial.

In elementary school he was always liked by his teachers, although with his healthy, all boy personality, he steadfastly avoided giving any appearance of being a teacher's pet. He knew the turbulence of the teenage years, but that didn't stop him from excellence in that rare combination of athletics and academics.

In a way, he was the kind of son every parent dreams of. He was bright, but not conceited; handsome, but not stuck on himself; well-groomed, but not fastidious; polite, but not obsequious; well organized, but just easy and mischievous enough to make him the life of most any party. Although he was full of passion and a favorite of the girls, his upbringing and his Christian convictions kept his passion under control.

In fact, it was his Christian convictions that had his father a little bit worried. His father was a supporter of the church and had even served a term as a deacon. He attended regularly, spoke favorably of the church, and generally encouraged his son's participation in church activities, although he freely acknowledged that it was the boy's mother who was really the religious one in the family.

Although the son was a leader in school in every way, he was also active in church. He rarely missed youth meetings, sang in the choir, and even attended an early morning Bible study. One summer he went on a youth work camp to the Appalachians to help build a community center for the poor mountain folk, and one time the minister had asked him to preach the sermon on Youth Sunday. He received a lot of compliments. A lot of people told him he would make a good minister.

It was his senior year in high school and he was more active than ever as a leading athlete, president of his class, and as one of the best students academically. He scored very high on his S.A.T.s. And he kept active in church. The youth leaders asked him to lead some Bible studies for the middle school group. Once again, almost by popular demand, he was asked to preach on Youth Sunday. Once again, the compliments came rolling in. You should be a minister, said one of the dear saints of the church. An older gentleman, one of the patriarchs of the church, said he had a gift for preaching. Perhaps he ought to consider the ministry. The boy smiled and thanked him.

I

It all happened deep in January after the father had been on an extended, but very successful, business trip. The father had already been very successful, reaping a handsome income that provided a fine home and cottage, with skiing in Aspen and surfing in Hawaii. If shortages of cash flow was a preoccupation of some families in their neighborhood, such was not the case in this family. They were careful not to flout their wealth like the nouveau riche nor to live ostentatiously like the psychologically insecure, but neither were they secretive nor miserly. They had and enjoyed the good things of life.

Flying back from his trip, the father looked forward to sharing all the good news of his success with his family. In fact, he already was planning a family trip to celebrate the sizeable increase in income. But perhaps more than that, he was dreaming about his son. To be sure, he had his ups and downs with him like most fathers. But all in all, he was immensely proud of his boy as was almost everyone else. Now he was dreaming of the day when his son might come into the business with him and take it to even greater heights. Of course, first there would be college and hopefully a master's degree in business administration from Harvard, and it might be good experience for him to work for someone else for a while. But eventually, he dreamed of the day his son would join him in the business.

He knew his son had the ability to do almost anything with his high grades and positive, hard-working attitude. The son had spoken some of medicine and law. He had the rare ability to excel in both science and literature. The father contented himself with the thought the son might enter one of the professions. But beyond all that, he longed for the day the son would be a full-fledged partner with him in his successful business.

However, as I was saying, it all happened deep in January after the father returned from his extended and highly successful business trip. It was one of those rare evenings in upper-middle-class life when everyone planned to be home. The mother had prepared a wonderful, welcome-home dinner in the dining room with leisurely dessert scheduled for the living room beside the fireplace.

It was then, by the fireplace, that it happened. The family and father had enjoyed animated conversation throughout dinner, and now by the fire, everyone was on the third cup of coffee. There was a lull in the conversation, and the son spoke up and said, "Dad, I've got something to tell you." "Yes?" "Well, Dad, I think I've finally decided what I want to do with my life." "Oh, well, really? Sounds great! Let's hear about it." "Well, Dad, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I've about decided I'd like to study for the ministry."

The son, who had been looking at the dancing flames was about to continue, when he glanced at his father to see a puzzled, bewildered, unbelieving, crestfallen countenance, rolled together in one frightening, unforgettable expression. The father, in turn seeing his son's surprise and grimace, quickly regained his composure, looked into the fire, then at his wife, and then sipped long and hard on his coffee. There was a long and awkward silence.

II

"So," said the father, regaining a bit of composure, "so, what makes you think you want to enter the ministry? I thought you were headed for law or medicine or better yet, for a business career with me. We could do extremely well together you know. You would start out light years ahead of where I was at your age."

"I know, Dad. I have thought of medicine and law and being in business with you. It would be great fun to do that with you, but I am feeling more and more I should go into the ministry."

"Well, son, those are noble ideas and the ministry is a high calling. But, really now, have you considered what kind of a life that would be? Ministers are about the lowest paid professionals in the country. They go through seven or eight or more years of higher education only to drive secondhand cars and live in a parsonage decorated by a committee."

"Besides, I was reading in the paper the other day that the average minister in America makes only a modest amount a year, and that includes housing allowance and fringe benefits. Son, I make ten to twenty times that amount even in a bad year. Why would any intelligent, high achiever like you want to enter a profession that would pay you in later life what most lawyers start out with right out of law school? What kind of a future is that? How could you really enjoy the good things in life with that kind of income? How would you put your kids through college? How could you support a family anywhere near your accustomed lifestyle?"

"I know, Dad," said the son. "The low pay of ministers does bother me. It seems to me that many churches do exploit their ministers. But I was talking with our minister about that and he showed me our annual report and pointed out that he was considerably better paid than the average."

"Sure, son," said the father, "but look where he is, in an exceptional church. And I have no doubt you would end up in a similar church, but I still make four or five times as much as our minister, easily, and so could you. No minister dares make much more than the average salary of his congregation, no matter how good he is. You remember the old trustees prayer which goes like this: 'Lord, you arrange to keep our minister humble, and we'll arrange to keep him poor.' People are funny that way. For some reason they think money and ministry are incompatible. You'll have no financial future in the ministry, my son."

"I know, Dad. It seems strange to me that it is okay for lay Christians to make a lot of money, but not okay for Christian ministers. But, Dad, I'm really not going into the ministry for money. That's obvious, I guess. Of course I would like to make a good living for my family, and I sure don't want to take the vow of poverty, but my feeling for the ministry is deeper than that."

III

His father asked for a fourth cup of coffee, and then ventured the obvious question. "You say you have deeper feeling for the ministry. What do you mean?"

The son was a bit encouraged. He had thought by this time his father might be in a complete rage. And even though he knew his father was suffering from deep disappointment, he was, nevertheless, earnestly trying to understand his son's feelings for he knew the son thought things out pretty well before he made a decision.

"Well, Dad, I guess the feelings have grown on me gradually. But this past year when I was leading the Bible study with the middle school kids, something clicked inside me. I knew they admired me as an athlete and leader, but when I talked with them about Jesus and God and how they should commit their lives to them, they responded in a new way. I mean, it was like I touched a dimension of their lives nothing else and no one else could touch. You know I really love sports and get a great thrill out of winning and being popular. But when I talked with these kids, I seemed to be touching them in ways sports could not. It was like I was filling an emptiness or void in their lives. I was giving them a reason for life or a purpose they all could share, even if they couldn't achieve in academics or sports. Some of those kids now come to talk with me about their problems and I seem to be able to help them. It really gives me a deep sense of satisfaction."

"Well," said his father, "you could do that as a youth sponsor while you were in business with me. You could be a deacon and teacher and all that and still not enter the professional ministry."

"That's true," said the son as he shifted his weight and leaned forward in his chair. "But I had a similar feeling when our minister let me preach those two Youth Sundays. I felt good, almost natural up there. I felt as if people were really listening, really listening for a special kind of word they don't hear anywhere else. Besides, I got a lot of compliments!"

"I understand, I think," said the father. "You did do a fine job up there, and I was mighty proud of you, as always. But let me play the devil's advocate for a minute. It's only natural for people to compliment you and encourage you as a young man. But think how little esteem most people have for a sermon. No one wants to be preached to or to hear a sermon. And you know we have one of the better preachers around. When I was on the board of deacons, you should have heard the complaints if our minister preached beyond the hour. He was reminded again that the head can only absorb as much as the bottom can endure.

"Frankly, I don't think most people, even church people, respect preaching much these days. If anything, they prefer a ten or twelve minute talk about how to get along a little better in life. If they miss getting ahead of the brunch line at the club, they suffer an acute attack of apoplexy!

"To tell you the truth, my son, even though I love the church and our minister, I just don't think preaching and teaching in the church is where the action is. People look to professors and scientists, commentators, doctors, opinion-makers, and best-selling authors for their authority. They think religion is important, but a bit quaint and irrelevant, and a little bit off to the side of life. Preaching and worship and religious processions may seem a little glamorous, but I think the deeper truth is that people do not respect it in our day. And that's a cross you would have to bear if you went into the ministry."

The son sat back in his chair and thought a bit. He looked at his mother who, by the gentle expression and radiant glow in her eyes, encouraged him to go on. "The trouble is, Dad, I think you may be right. I know what a lot of my friends and their families think of the church and the ministry. Sometimes they exhibit a kind of subtle mockery. One of my buddies has a kind of odd minister. He says his dad calls him the third sex.

"Nevertheless, while you were away, I spent a lot of time talking with our minister. He agreed that the ministry was not at the center of life like it used to be. The minister once was one of the few educated people around, that no longer is the case. He no longer has that automatic authority either from education or position. Many people think the minister is unacquainted with the rough and tumble world and really cannot speak to it with authority."

"Right," said the father. "I think that's the way it is. If you really want to influence society and change things, go into something else, maybe law and politics."

"I raised that very question with our minister," said the son. "He said we certainly do need good Christians in all vocations, but he reminded me that I needed to take a long look at history. The Bible and the church have been around a long time, he said, longer than any nation or political or economic system. He said there have been other times in history when preachers and preaching have been ignored, even ridiculed, persecuted, and killed. He mentioned William Tyndale and John Huss, who were burned at the stake. He pointed out the threat on Martin Luther's life and the fact that Polycarp was burned at the stake. Then, of course, he mentioned the Apostle Paul and Jesus himself.

"In the long sweep of history, he said preaching has often been very difficult. And right now, it is out of fashion in Western culture. Fads and fashions come and go, but the gospel of Christ and the Bible and the church will remain forever. He said that, as a minister, I would be serving a higher calling whose reward might not be realized in this life, but that I would be enlisting people in the cause of Christ, nurturing them, helping them, praying for them, attempting to aid them to be good disciples of Christ. I guess that's the deeper feeling I get when I teach those young kids and when I preach. I get the feeling I'm participating in something eternal and ageless, something that really satisfies and makes sense.

"Our minister said an old veteran minister once told him he should stay out of the ministry unless he just couldn't help himself. I'm feeling more and more that way, that I would make a mistake if I stayed out. Our minister said that perhaps God was calling me into the ministry.

"He said many churches don't take their share of responsibility for recruiting young people for the ministry. He said he knew of one large church that had, in its many years, recruited only one person for the ministry. He said they were really dependent on other churches who had taken their responsibility more seriously.

"I told him I hadn't heard any voices or seen any visions. He said that didn't matter, and that perhaps God was calling me through these experiences and people. I hope you won't be angry at me, Dad, but I guess that is how I'm feeling."

IV

Well, what is a father to do? This one thought deeply as he sipped his coffee. Despite his personal heartache, he had a deepening respect for his son whom he loved and admired so much. He realized as he spoke that his own deep feelings about the church and the ministry were being exposed. Yet, he felt he owed it to himself and to his son to express his honest objections.

"Well, son, I have to admire your convictions. But I still have lots of questions and hesitations. I remember one lady on our deacon board who said she wouldn't want to be a minister because of all the problem people in the church, and I chuckled to myself, because if ever our minister had a problem, she was it."

"I know. I talked about that with our minister, too. He was very open. He said, sure, there are problem people in the church. But he said for every problem person there are ten absolutely wonderful people, so devoted, so committed, so involved, and self-giving that it makes everything worthwhile. Church people often sense they are a part of a grand scheme, participants in something lasting and eternal. Our minister said he felt highly honored and privileged to lead people in such a high calling. Besides, he said it was his privilege to minister to people in times of celebration like baptisms, confirmations, and weddings, and to minister to them in times of trouble and sorrow, sometimes all in the same day. He said he loved being able to help people like that."

"But doesn't it seem a waste of brains and talent to use it in the ministry?" his father blurted out in desperation, not really thinking.

The son smiled, "Did you hear what you just said, Dad? Did you hear what you just said about Christ and the Bible and the church?" The father blushed with the knowledge of the truth about his real feelings.

The son went on. "Our minister said that Jesus' own family thought he was crazy when he left the family business to go into the public ministry. They once came to get him to take him home. Perhaps they were afraid of what might happen to him. There can be a lot of glamour and prestige and excitement in ministry. There are speeches and crowds, processions and parades. But, said our minister, there are crosses too, sometimes several crosses. That's how it was with Jesus on Palm Sunday -- all trumpets and shouts and fanfares, and then there was Good Friday."

"That's what I'm afraid of son, Good Friday. That's what I'm afraid of."

"So am I, Dad. But then, there's always Easter. Isn't there?"