Villanova’s Buzzer-Beater: A Place for Fundamentals and Coaching in Preparing the Play-Maker

Marcus Paige...and the game is tied!

Villanova’s Buzzer-Beater

This past Monday night, in the NCAA Division I Men’s Basketball Championship, the University of North Carolina trailed 74-71 until their guard Marcus Paige seemed to hang in mid-air, between two Villanova players, and hit an improbable, off-balance, double-clutch three-pointer to tie the game at 74 points apiece with 4.7 seconds remaining. It looked for a moment like we would be treated to five minutes of free basketball. But then, Villanova’s Kris Jenkins inbounded the ball to Ryan Arcidiacono (ARCH-ee-dee-AH-cuh-no) who drove up the court, drew two UNC defenders, and dished the ball back to Jenkins. For many children too young to practice Christian Laettner’s top-of-the-key turnaround jumper, it will be Jenkins’ shot and celebration that they will emulate as their game-winner, too. And so, it could be said, Jenkins’ shot not only brought such memorable recognition to himself, but it brought the 2016 National Championship to Villanova University, head coach Jay Wright, and the rest of his entire team.

It could be said that way, but before examining that perspective a little more closely, let me ask you a few questions about your own aspirations. Have you ever fantasized about being in the right place at the right time, able to do the right thing in order to make a heroic difference? Maybe your imaginary moment of fame brings you to home plate in the bottom of the ninth, trailing by a run with two outs and one on base, when you crush the pitch, sending it soaring into the stands. It could be, instead, that you see yourself valiantly responding to cries for help, diving into a flooded stream to pull a child to safety. Perhaps your aim is nothing more than finding the gallantry necessary to step outside your comfort-zone, approach an obviously distraught friend, and be willing to hear their full, honest answer when you ask, “Would it help to talk about it?”

No, not that Christian's heroics. Other Christians' heroics!

Christian Heroics

Knowing as many Christians as I have over the past three decades, there is one particular fantasy I have heard repeatedly. We picture ourselves actually engaging in conversation with a close friend, family member, coworker, or classmate. They comment on our relationship with Jesus Christ, and as the conversation continues we are privileged to hear their gratifying question, “How then shall I be saved?” Fortunately for many, this remains a fantasy. I say “fortunately” because most would find themselves utterly unprepared, not knowing what to say if that moment were to arise. (If you think you’re not one of those unprepared to answer your friend’s request to meet Jesus, then simply take the next few minutes to explain the gospel out loud. Okay? So, how did you do? Clear, concise, and compelling? Or complicated, confused, and incomplete?) Therefore, many Christians never need worry about answering such questions, because just having that conversation is too unlikely.

What if our heroic make-believe moment, though, required something less than a gospel presentation? What if the situation in which you see yourself allowed you to remain silent, to not even engage in conversation about something so “personal and private” as your own relationship with Jesus Christ? What if that moment in which you envision yourself rising to the occasion involved nothing more than simply saying no to temptation, and avoiding your favorite sin…just once? What if your ambitions only scale the heights of self-discipline so far as to actually leave the comfort of your bed, get showered and dressed, grab your Bible, and make it to church this Sunday? Does the bar still need lowered? Are you still only dreaming of one day picking up that Bible, opening it to a favorite passage, and praying about what the Holy Spirit says to you through God’s word?

Kris Jenkins - with the ball Arcidiacono just
passed him, during the play that
Jay Wright designed...etc.

Opportunity Meets Preparation

During the post-game interviews with victorious Villanova’s players this past Monday night, one reporter admitted their confusion about those final 4.7 seconds. There was a sense, according to the reporter, in which the game-winning shot was a result of a set play, orchestrated to produce the result it did. But there were also parts of what Jenkins and Arcidiacono had described that made it sound as though they were improvising on the spot. The two young men gave a reasonable-enough explanation, but not so much so that it prevented coach Jay Wright from being asked the same question just minutes later. In just a few brief sentences, Wright explained clearly and concisely what every coach seeks to do for his players (and what I believe many pastors seek to do for those they serve).

I remember there being three levels to Wright’s answer about that final shot. First, he explained that there were actually three end-of-game plays that his team had prepared. There was a play to run if there were more than twelve seconds left, another to run if there were between five and twelve seconds, and a third to run if there were less than five seconds. Therefore, the five young men on the court had only to look at the clock (4.7 seconds) to know which play they were going to run. The second part of Coach Wright’s answer, though, addressed the very point where the reporter had earlier found some confusion. In running the “under-five-second” play, it was still necessary to discern what the opposing team’s players were doing (double-teaming Arcidiacono, as it happened), and then make a decision about who would be open and available to take the final shot of the game. Jenkins, running to the right and doing so fast enough to get into Arcidiacono’s peripheral vision, was then tasked with the third element—making the shot—in what turned out to be a successful end to the game, the tournament, the season, and Jenkins’ career as a Villanova Wildcat.

More Than Meets the Eye

As above, then, “it could be said” that what CBS will forever label as one of their “One Shining Moment” moments, put Jenkins’ shot in an forever-unfading spotlight. Too, that shot, “it could be said,” brought Villanova their first National Championship since 1985, brought head coach Jay Wright to greater prominence (and potential job-changes), and so much more. But before we ascribe all that to the game’s final eight-tenths of one second (as the ball traveled to and through the basket) there needs to be a more careful, if concise, exploration of that “moment.”

Villanova Head Coach Jay Wright

Jenkins’ shot resulted from Arcidiacono’s decision. Arcidiacono’s decision was enabled by Wright’s play. Wright’s play was determined by the Wildcats’ circumstance. That circumstance had been rehearsed and the play had been practiced, and Jenkins’ preparation had included many such shots alone with a ball and a hoop throughout his young life. So, when the ball ended up in Jenkins’ hands Monday night, yes—the spotlight was, indeed, on him. But the endless drills, the foundational fundamentals, and the routine repetition of what to do when the opportunity presented itself, these elements on the part of a dozen young men, a coaching staff, an athletic department, a university, an athletic association, and a culture that values and supports the pursuit of excellence in sports, and probably dozens of other ingredients went into what many will remember as being the singular action of one individual player in that one shining moment.

The Opportunities Awaiting You

For every child who drives toward the hoop in their driveway, or sets their feet at the playground foul-line, or looks around to be sure they’re alone in the gym before saying to themselves, “to Jenkins…for the championship!” may there be at least one more of us who imagine ourselves heroically asking, answering, and acting on the question, “What would Jesus have me do today?” But let us also commit to fulfilling our own one-shining-moment, and passionately pursue the endless drills of the foundational fundamentals. May we remember that what may seem like only a routine repetition of the spiritual disciplines of scripture study, worship and prayer, fellowship and service, and the other habits of holiness, is the indispensable prerequisite to even being on the court during those critical moments. 

E.M. Bounds’ Seven Elements of Preaching from a Place of ‘True Praying’

There are a handful of moments over the past three decades of ministry when I remember being nearly paralyzed by the immense responsibility that accompanies the divine calling to preach the word of God. It is rarely simple, never easy, though occasionally exciting…like a train-wreck. Those overwhelming times sometimes result from the challenging subject matter of the passage at hand. Sometimes, I have felt myself engulfed by emotion because of the circumstances into which God’s word must be spoken. And more frequently I am amazed in contemplating the great privilege granted me by a congregation committed to enabling sufficient study, composition, and polishing for the messages they gather to hear.

I hope that one element is conspicuous by its absence. Study, composition, and polishing come easily to those blessed with a great deal of education, bountiful budgets of both time and money to constantly consume book after book, and the additional benefit of being engaged in dialogue with a diverse breadth of individuals of great spiritual depth. With all that, however, comes also the temptation to believe that I have something to say. I do, of course. But not in preaching. In preaching, my responsibility is to overcome the temptation to say any something, except to deliver that which is God’s message, in that holy moment He has appointed, for the edification of those He has gathered, that they may be the agency of His will on earth, just as it is in heaven. As important as preaching is, and important as careful study, composition, and polishing may be, there is one essential that should inform, influence, and inspire every word of every sermon. But because, as E.M. Bounds writes, “Preachers are human folks, and are exposed to and often caught by the strong driftings of human currents,” I find that I need a constant reminder of the necessity of the fullest possible approach to preaching through prayer.

Toward reminding myself of the richness of prayer that provides the foundation and fulfillment of preaching’s promise, I find Bounds’ seven elements of “true praying” to be a worthy contemplation.

1.       Vital Oneness with Christ – As communicators of the gospel, we are not merely commentators on the events and content of Jesus’ life from twenty centuries ago. If we are not continuously participating by allowing His ministry to take place in and through our lives, then we are preaching across a divide of insurmountable distance to those who have little or no hope of emulating what we present as an intellectual exercise instead of a living, breathing, active and living (thus Bounds’ use of the term “vital”) life of faith.

2.       Fullness of the Holy Ghost – Jesus told us that out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. If we are merely to speak about God, then we may do so out of the abundance of our minds, the volumes of our libraries, or the class notes from our Bible college or seminary. If, however, we intend to speak God, to speak the way, the truth, and the life, to give voice to the living presence of the Almighty Creator of all that ever will have existed, then we must be filled to overflowing with God Himself in the person of the Holy Spirit.

3.       Deep, Overflowing Fountains of Tender Compassion – In the next point, Bounds addresses our focus on eternal life for those we serve. But here, lest we overlook the circumstances of their lives, becoming “so heavenly minded that we’re no earthly good,” it is essential that we not only know how others are living, but that we materially live as they do. The ivory pedestals of our isolated studies may be momentarily necessary to the study, composition, and polishing of our messages, but the lives into which we speak are “out there” where the dialogue is occurring for many more hours than we will ever preach. The phrase that has helped me most in making the time available for actively engaging in the daily lives of our community comes from Andrew Blackwood’s Pastoral Leadership (Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1949). I remember it as, “Pastoral visitation is sermon preparation.”

4.       Deathless Solicitude for Man’s Eternal Good – No matter how gratifying it is to see God’s resources brought to bear through our lives into the needs of those we are called to serve, the message we deliver is not merely incomplete but entirely heretical if it does not emphasize God’s eternal love, Christ’s eternal purpose, and the Holy Spirit’s eternal efforts to bring new, abundant, and eternal life into its fullest possible expression in every life He allows us to touch.

5.       Consuming Zeal for the Glory of God – Even in the previous two categories, it is possible to diminish God to being the cache of resources, or even the means to salvation. That Jesus is Lord and Master, and Sovereign King does not negate His character as the Friend of sinners, the Intercessor affirming the effectiveness of His blood in reconciling us to God, or any other aspect we may occasionally neglect in favor of others. The richness of both the breadth and depth of God’s attributes, character, will, and action deserve careful review to ensure that our preaching does not drift onto a few favorite perspectives at the expense of presenting the wholeness of His holiness.

6.       A Thorough Conviction of the Preacher’s Difficult and Delicate Work – I have discussed this above, but here I would add the confession that I have, too frequently, looked upon a sermon text as offering me an “easier” preparation due to my familiarity with the particular passage. I have learned, however, to reject this seductive enticement to my laziness. In truth, the more familiar a passage is, the more difficult it usually proves to think through how it applies to the congregation who will gather to hear it. Worse, far greater effort is actually required. It can be a struggle to determine what the passage does say, when I am already certain that I know what it has said to me previously. And then, the cold, hard light of truth, once seen, needs to be focused and filtered into fractional portions, set in an accessible order, so that the truth that so resonates in my heart will do the same for others on Sunday morning.

7.       The Imperative Need of God’s Mightiest Help – All of the above matters combine to motivate an inevitable decision. There are more than two options, but many preachers find themselves at some point in their ministry with the strong sense of being caught between only the Rock and the hard place. The hard place may be the personalities and preferences of a particular parish. Some may face a crisis of personal health, relationships, or finances. But often the hard place is deep within the preacher who faces the growing perception that an ever-closer relationship with the Rock reveals the terrible distance between what the preacher is and does, and what any disciple of Jesus Christ comes to realize: there is so much we can never be, so much we can never do. The weight of that realization can threaten to crush us. The attractive alternative to that brokenness is to walk away from the role and its responsibilities. But there is a third option. I happen to believe it cannot be accessed without the brokenness. Some would disagree, and perhaps they have found some other means to the same end. But the strength to hold up under the pressures of preaching is to accept what Bounds calls “the imperative need of God’s mightiest help” that is available only when, I believe, our strength has crumbled to dust and been swept out of the way.

Of course, this seventh element brings us full circle in Bounds’ list. God’s mightiest help is only available when we have nothing else to bring to the task at hand than our vital oneness with Christ. Are there still simpler, easier, more exciting options available to today’s preachers? Yes. And it would appear that simpler, easier, and more exciting preaching is more attractive to greater numbers. So, why pursue this prayer-drenched preaching that Bounds describes as being “a conspicuous and an all-impregnating force?” There is no reason at all, unless we choose to believe as Bounds does: “To (those) who think think praying their main business and devote time to it according to this high estimate of its importance does God commit the keys of his kingdom, and by them does he work his spiritual wonders in this world.”

When I look at the crowds that are being drawn, and especially when I hear the criticisms from among the simpler, easier, and more exciting options, so far, I do still hear the words of Jesus: “What about you? Do you want to go there, too?” It is only by committing to consistently “conspicuous” prayer that my answer remains, “Where else am I supposed to go? Only You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:66-71) And as their preacher, I refuse to believe that those to whom I am called to serve on Christ’s behalf should deserve anything else, which would make the message something less than the whole counsel of God’s word.

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want, but If You Try Sometimes…” – Part Two: Some Thoughts on the Assets and Liabilities of Small-Church Spirituality (Part One Examined the Parallel Issues in Small-Town Medicine)

In part one, we explored some of the issues affecting the quality and availability of healthcare in low density population areas like the Intermountain Area of northern California. These include the following: (1) An inattention to detail that can result in patients receiving less than, other than, or simply none of the care they require to be restored to physical health. (2) The attraction of lower-priced alternatives to shopping locally for pharmacy services, leaving communities without the availability of occasionally necessary medications like antibiotics and other temporary symptom-relief measures. (3) The tendency of healthcare staff members to see patients more as a commodity that provides employees with job security, rather than being at least paying customers with distinct needs for quality service. (4) An amazing dedication displayed by individuals within the system whose thoughtfulness, creativity, persistence, and awareness of the human personhood of their patients manages to bring about the right results in the midst of an untrustworthy, and sometimes dangerously dysfunctional system.

As I suggested earlier, each of these traits finds a parallel in small-church spirituality, and I find a strong correlation to both the assets and liabilities they represent. Here are some thoughts about that.

The Lone-Ranger’s Ministry: Small-Church Spirituality and an Insufficient Focus

I am not the only solo pastor who sees the irony in being asked to devote twenty percent of our time to each of the six to ten elements of our position descriptions. Neither am I alone in feeling very alone when just one or two of the elements require our attention for a majority of the 168 hours we are allotted in a given week. The frequent result that costs us what little of that schedule would otherwise allow restful sleep is this: in our best-managed weeks, there are far many more details in need of attention than there is attention available to devote to them. Unless, of course, some of those essential details are effectively delegated. Ironically, it is by allowing others to participate in ministry responsibilities that provides greater growth and health in the body of Christ. (Ephesians 4:11-16) But just as misfiled medical records can be deadly, local congregations, extended families, and individual human persons find their spiritual health declining for no other reason than they are missing certain basic elements necessary to barely sustaining, much less strengthening them.

One-Stop Shopping: Small-Church Spirituality and Mesmerizing Mega-Churches

For some, it is the occasional trek to a larger community and the larger churches to be found there. I cannot deny that there are several worship bands that perform far more professionally than any available in our remote rural area. The focus of a multi-staff church’s “teaching pastor” whose primary job description is to prepare and present sermons will almost always provide more polished preaching than the jack-of-all-trades general practitioner filling all pastoral roles in a small rural congregation. The economy of scale in larger religious organizations means that there are enough potential attendees to justify narrow, niche-marketed ministries to those with characteristics or affinities that guarantee that everyone else in their gatherings will be very much like them (and thus very likely to like them). But just as shopping elsewhere for routine medical services threatens to leave patients without the immediate and personalized care they will almost certainly require, a similar pattern befalls those in smaller churches and communities who find themselves in sudden need. Mega-Church pastors seldom make housecalls and hospital visits, even within the immediate neighborhood of their church’s location. Ministry to the bereaved, the substance-abuser, the traumatized, or even the recently engaged is most often requested of the pastors serving churches that are closest geographically, but who are not at all close relationally to those they have never seen in a Sunday morning pew. (And this viewpoint ignores entirely the impossibility of one-on-one ministry with pastors known only through their broadcast personality.)

Budding Beginners and Experienced Elders: Small-Church Spirituality and the Horrors of Hirelings

It is not, of course, only those in the pews (or not) whose habits are devastating to small churches. Those called to pastor in rural parishes, especially, tend to fall into two categories. First, chronologically speaking, are those with wet ink on their diplomas, degrees, licenses, or ordination papers. Denominations with insufficient multi-staff church positions for the newest, freshest, most inexperienced ministers use a variety of disparaging terms for both these pastors and the congregations they serve. Likewise, most of those younger pastors have heard not only the disparaging terms, but the pattern expected of them, if they are to survive long in the ranks of professional career pastors. But at the other end of the longevity spectrum, there are many pastors who have served for decades without retirement plans, sufficient wages to build-up savings accounts, or even the equity of home ownership as they have moved from parsonage to parsonage, or been consigned to a rotations of rentals by their lack of employment stability. Those well beyond retirement age can sometimes rely on their wisdom and experience to make up for a lack of energy, or a perceived lack of relevance to “today’s young families.” But both the “whippersnappers and fogeys” who fill many rural pulpits share one critical characteristic that dooms their congregations to constant recycling through the pastoral-search process. The shared trait is this: they will be moving on soon. Those in their first pastorate will soon be lured away to the next rung on the corporate career ladder. Those with decades of experience will soon be called home to Jesus, or at least away from effective ministry by some combination of infirmity, illness, or injury. In either case, and too many others in between, the focus is not on serving the congregation and community, but on the ongoing development of the minister, the growing needs of their family, the enticements of the next available opportunities, or their desire to comfortably finish their final chapter.

Exceptions to the Rule: Small-Church Spirituality and the Idealism of Interconnected Individuals

In part one, we celebrated individuals within the healthcare system who looked beyond their official job descriptions, their personal inconvenience, and “reasonably competent service” in order to focus on the needs of patients. Here, I want to acknowledge that my preference for small-church spirituality is based on similar observations. Where there are not seminary-trained specialists in narrow fields of ministry to specifically-segregated groups of consumers, there is a greater reliance on other resources. Among these, the Holy Spirit is most trustworthy. But a broader scripture knowledge is also in evidence, and quite helpful among those seeking what Jesus would have them to do…when there is not a staff member already assigned to the responsibilities in that area. Third, beyond the work of the Holy Spirit and the trustworthiness of scripture, there is the interrelated workings of members within the body of Christ that is necessitated by the utter lack of paid professionals on-scene in most circumstances. Last in this list, for several reasons, but still of great importance to the health and strength of small churches, especially in remote, rural, low density population areas, is the willingness of committed shepherds to stand firm and stay put, doing whatever is necessary to overcome the dangers and damage that accrues from the horrible rotation of hirelings that has destroyed not only individual congregations (the list of extinct churches in our area continues to grow) but devastated the testimony of the gospel.

So, to those members of the body of Christ who choose to attend, participate, and serve in the local communities to which God has called them, and to those pastors who resist the temptations to build careers rather than congregations: May God bless you by allowing you to see an effective fellowship in which every good thing in each of us is shared fully with all of us. (Philemon 6)

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want, but If You Try Sometimes…” – Part One: Some Thoughts on the Assets and Liabilities of Small-Town Medicine (Part Two Examines the Parallels to Small-Church Spirituality)

The allure is undeniable: larger communities with larger healthcare systems certainly appear to operate in a more professional and business-like manner than elsewhere. Likewise, the apparent benefits of churches with memberships larger than the entire population of the Fall River Valley seem unquestionable, at least for those who can afford the time and gas money to go where the band is more talented, the preacher is more polished, and the coffee bar better stocked. But while there are liabilities inherent in both small-town medicine and small-church spirituality, certain assets in each suggest that there may be important reasons to “shop local” for both your physical and spiritual care. The parallels I see in small-church spirituality will follow in part two. For now, here are my thoughts in support of patronizing the resources available in small-town medicine.

A Geographic Snapshot: Rural Medicine and the Time-Space Continuum

My wife and I work full-time. We also volunteer for a number of organizations (including our employers). We choose to invest in our community in a variety of ways, some of which take us to some of the more remote residences tucked away here in the mountains of northern California. As one result, our busy schedule and our commitment to “shop local” leads us to seek most of our routine health-care here in the communities of our low density population area. Amidst the 1200 square miles of The Intermountain Area, there are three clinics, spaced evenly apart along the highway that runs through the communities of Bieber, Fall River Mills, and Burney. There are even two pharmacies from which to choose, although these are less than a mile from each other at the southwestern end of the area in Burney. At times there has been a third, more centrally located in Fall River Mills very near the area’s only hospital. Sadly, those attracted by the “convenience” and “low-low-prices” of mail-order drug suppliers overlook a number of factors. Not only is there the inconvenience of a long drive to pick up their occasional antibiotics or other urgently-needed medications, but there are also the dangers inherent in circumventing our local pharmacists’ ability to compare multiple prescriptions for potential interactions.

A Sociological Snapshot: Rural Medicine and Being Our Brothers’ Keeper

These are the kinds of cost-benefit decisions we face in our community. What the British would say is “penny-wise and pound-foolish” translates here to more directly “biting the hand that heals you.” The declining availability of quality assets in our local community are not always a matter of mere convenience. Most in our area cannot afford the luxurious options enjoyed by wealthier community members. Certain leaders have noted that the presence of a hospital matters more to their property values than their healthcare decisions. (“People won’t move here if there isn’t a hospital. But if you can afford to move here, you can afford get your healthcare in Redding.”) One hospital board member has offered that he sees the facilities existing only for a very short list of urgently necessary services. The time and expense of pursuing care elsewhere, though, is nearly impossible for many who are less-mobile than our more affluent retirees. Whether due to time-consuming work schedules or the limitations of insufficient gas-money (or both), the majority of our residents in the Intermountain Area are dependent upon quality healthcare being provided through the single chain of clinics, the only hospital, or the two pharmacies located within just one mile of each other.

An Anthropological Snapshot: Rural Medicine and the Consequences of Inattention to Detail

Thankfully, so far, the quality of healthcare available is still amazingly high, especially when compared with the relatively low quantity of our private-pay population who choose to support them. Unfortunately, though, the strain is beginning to show. The internal matters of staffing and scheduling, no doubt, inflict great difficulties upon the dedicated individuals and teams who make possible the practice of medicine in our midst. My perspective here, however, is from that of the patient—the one who depends upon available medical assistance, accurate diagnosis, and accessible treatments, including the appropriate medications. Some recent experiences have highlighted distinct deficiencies in the system.

Twice now, in our immediate family, prescriptions have been written on the wrong forms, and once by personnel not legally permitted to do so. The most recent episode was compounded by neither local pharmacy having enough of the given medications available to fill two of three prescriptions. Further hindering the process of getting a sick patient to their home (half an hour away), the pharmacy that had a partial amount to fill one of the prescriptions had none of the patient’s information on file. Worse, in another half hour of computer and phone contacts, they eventually determined that they would be unsuccessful in securing payment from the patient’s insurance. Of course, then, the insurance company balked at reimbursing the full retail price that was paid “out-of-pocket.” But there seemed to be no alternative. After two trips to the clinic (having returned to get the properly formatted prescription), two to the first pharmacy (which found the prescription to be incorrectly written), and two to the second pharmacy (after confirming with the patient that they had no other insurance documentation with them), it was nearing closing time for all of the above. If there had not been a credit card handy, we may have failed to get the medications considered “essential” to the patient’s recovery.

These are not uncommon obstacles to our community’s pursuit of healthcare. Other patients have been hindered from health by even greater difficulties resulting from insufficient inventories. Some are dissuaded from seeking care by the confusing double-billing practice of both locally invoicing and simultaneously outsourcing the same charges to our hospital’s “not a collections-agency.” On occasion, overworked hospital personnel have failed to appreciate how easily patients overhear the staff’s crude and cruel comments about their diagnoses and treatments. And then, there are those times when it seems that other distractions take priority over the delivery of healthcare by the employees of our healthcare system. For example, one night, seeking to have blood drawn by the lab at the local hospital (as my physician had directed), I waited over an hour while my fever continued to rise (101.1 to 102.7) because the receptionist was unwilling to call the on-call laboratory tech. Only after an intervention by the health clinic’s on-call nurse were the doctor’s orders followed. To be fair, in defense of the receptionist’s otherwise inexcusable procrastination, there seemed to be ample reason for her anxiety, given the lab tech’s mood when eventually arriving to tend to a paying customer’s needs.

A Moral Snapshot: Rural Medicine and the Blessings of Personal Investment

And then, there’s Melissa, the Pharmacy Tech (labelled thus so as to differentiate her, as we did in our fan mail to the pharmacy’s corporate offices, from Melissa the cashier, who I’m sure is perfectly wonderful as well). After our first trip to the first pharmacy, trying to get the right medication for the correct prescription on the wrong form, we were back for our second visit to the clinic, to get the prescription corrected. Even before I arrived at the front desk of the clinic, Melissa was there beside me. After we had left the pharmacy, the pharmacist had pointed out to her that whether we had the prescription on the correct form or not…they didn’t have the medication in stock. So, Melissa called the clinic to intercept us, except that the receptionist was momentarily away from the desk, so the voice-mail kicked in, telling Melissa that the clinic was closed for the day. Because her car was parked in the opposite direction, she decided it was safer to simply run to the clinic, so that we did not find the closed, and return to Fall River Mills in despair.

And this is where Katelyn comes in. Granted, she was away from the desk momentarily. But I believe she’s not the one responsible for the wrong voice-mail message being loaded. In any case, she and Melissa consulted and confirmed that the medication that was available had already been tried and found ineffective. They then phoned the other pharmacy, sharing the phone to confirm that the competitor to Melissa’s employer had at least a partial supply for the patient’s need. But the partial supply would “use up” the full prescription, so yet a third prescription for the same medication needed to be written…and it was, thanks to Katelyn’s willingness to contact another healthcare professional with the credentials to make it happen.

To clarify my pessimistic perceptions for you: there can be a tendency to ignore our mutual responsibilities for one another, whether divided into the categories of staff and patients, or divided into those who must rely on local providers and those who can afford to seek healthcare elsewhere (which ironically includes some of those who accept the obligation to maintain the local resources for others). Those who seek their own convenience, sometimes to the point of refusing to inconvenience themselves for the sake of others, put the health and well-being of patients (“paying customers”) in jeopardy.

Despite my pessimism that suggests that dwindling attention will result in resources dwindling even further, my flickering hope is occasionally fanned into a few ember-fed sparks. It is not just Melissa and Katelyn, though they certainly served that purpose most recently. But there are still more than a mere handful who recognize the priorities of patients as the core commodity that will either sustain our healthcare system, or allow it to implode once it is hollowed by a continued decline in attention to the needs of those patients.

Which will it be? As promised, the same question applies to small-church spirituality as well, and we will turn to that application in the next post.

Tenuous Tenure—Part One: The Dangers and Damage of the Pastor-Parish Rotisserie

Not "Roast Pastor," but "roast al pastor."

Some observations about our service to Christ and others only become possible with longevity. I mean here not only a longevity that comprises the decades of service that eventually become “a life of ministry” in whatever number of pastorates and other roles one serves in the body of Christ. There are also lessons that can only be learned by consistently serving the same congregation and community over a significant period of time. At the risk of seeming like I know something after only thirty-three years of pastoral service, some perceptions from my perspective seem appropriate this morning.

The Advantage of My Vantage Point

Having previously served five other congregations in my first twenty years, I inadvertently fell into the category that John Ng, then-Vice President of Church Ministries for The Christian and Missionary Alliance, described disparagingly to a pastor’s retreat in Columbus, Nebraska. As I recall, his words were along these lines, “I’m tired of pastors bragging about their ‘twenty years of experience’ when they’ve only had the same four to five years of experience four or five times. When they reach the stage where they actually have to grow in the Lord, develop their leadership skills, or pay the price of change in the congregations they serve, they get ‘led to serve somewhere else’ and abandon their church to the next pastor.”

Older, more wrinkled, a bit spicier, too.

Still, it is “only” thirteen years or so with which I have been blessed to serve The Glenburn Community Church and the communities of the Intermountain Area in northeastern California. Sadly, while that pales in comparison with friends who have served single congregations and/or communities for decades, my baker’s dozen of Christmases, Easters, and Women’s Circle Bazaars leaves me with arguably the longest continuous ministry tenure in the Fall River Valley. To most observers of North American churches, this would be entirely unsurprising. The often volatile nature of small, rural congregations matches up disastrously with the nature of “the ministry career” that sees such churches as stepping stones to “more important ministry” elsewhere.

The Problem That Prompts My Passion

There is a lot to grieve in the passing of one pastor after another through the congregations here. Just as there is much to mourn in the collateral damage seen in the passing of congregations themselves. As congregations suffer through “yet another new pastor,” communities suffer through “yet another new church” destined to replace one or the other of congregations no longer viable as Christ’s flock rotates among the remaining religious relics. In contrast, there is also a lot to celebrate in being privileged with a lengthy tenure despite the usual turnover to be found in the “traditional pastoral career path,” and a lot to commend in noting the lengthy survival of any congregation that develops a stable heritage and is thus capable of providing a legacy to future generations.

Tacos, rather than burritos - not too tightly wrapped.

Acknowledging both the blessings and obligations of this all-too-rare perspective, then, I want offer some observations about three stages of ministry that appear within the life of a pastor, and within the life of a congregation as well. I would call these three stages “Putting Out Fires,” “Spinning the Plates,” and “Finding Your Traction.” We’ll look at these over the next several posts in hopes of providing encouragement and support to those willing to actively engage in their service to Christ and others. Stay tuned.

A Theory of Relativity: Why it’s not good enough to be a better Christian

There is a certain weight to winning.

Chances are, if you are reading this from within the United States of America, you claim to be a Christian.[1] In fact, the estimates of the Christian population in North America are so absurdly high that I can make my claim with great confidence about even those of you who rise well above the averages: I am a better Christian than you are.

Choose whatever metric you want to compare. By just about all the standards that matter, I rank in the upper-most percentiles. True, my spiritual SAT score may not be 1600 (or whatever it is these days that gets you into Stanford). But face it: the average American Christian aspires to be the religious equivalent of a State-school dropout who finishes an Associate’s in Art Appreciation by the time he’s forty years old.

Granted, this is less likely to apply if you are among the twenty-five to thirty-five percent that would call yourselves Evangelicals. This is especially true if you identify as a Born-Again, Spirit-Filled, fully-participating member of the body of Jesus Christ who serves faithfully and prayerfully in your local congregation of theologically-conservative, politically-active and missions-supporting nuclear families. Odds are, though…

First in Class doesn't always mean First in Line.

Let me be more direct. From any perspective I would value, you are not as good a Christian as I am.

Unless, that is, you evaluate me by the one metric under which I fail every test, barely scrawl my name on the most basic assignment, and attend even my class’s kindergarten graduation as a mere spectator from the folding chairs in the back of the cafeteria. There is one standard by which the most meager Christian resume sets you head-and-shoulders above the muck and mire into which I quickly sink when compared with your own lofty status. What is this qualification under which my best efforts are ultimately futile? How do I know that there is no hope that I could ever measure up to your vaunted position of honor and holiness? The reason is simple. There is very little chance that you, dear reader, are a paid professional pastor.

For any and all stature I may attain in the minds of some (myself, primarily), my relatively stratospheric pedestal of perfection crumbles under the weight of being a vocational vicar. Yes, anything you do “for free” far outstrips any accolades I might earn, since I also earn my living by means of being a servant to Christ and others. (Of course, the concept of “earning a living” for a Christian is theologically incorrect, but we’ll leave a discussion of Philippians 4:19 for another day.)

At least in yacht racing, the view from behind
the lead dog is still beautiful.

“But isn’t the ground level at the foot of the cross?” you may ask. And it is. Jesus loves each of us equally. How we respond to that love, however, is where the variables occur, and where we often excuse ourselves to competitive comparisons with one another. But what if we were to choose a different point of comparison?

That’s what E.M. Bounds does at the opening of “The Letter Killeth,” chapter three in his book Power through Prayer, which you can find (as my daughter and I have chosen to) in The Complete Works of E.M. Bounds. He quotes “Bishop McKendree” who, in part, writes, “The coldness of my love to Him who first loved me and has done so much for me overwhelmed and confused me.” He adds just one sentence later that he determined again “to strive and devote myself unreservedly to the Lord.” Not because he felt that he did or did not measure up to the “one anothers” in his sphere of Christian relationships. But because he recognized the disparity that exists between Christ’s love for us and the love we profess to have for Him.

Again, though, there is still that hazard peculiar to my own role in Christ’s body. Bounds writes, “Much of the lax devotion and lazy, irreverent attitudes in congregational praying are attributable to professional praying in the pulpit.” Perhaps it is Bounds that I am remembering, or some other Christian writer from decades ago (probably Leonard Ravenhill, I imagine) who similarly offered that only long seasons of personal, private praying allow for brief and effective public praying. In this chapter, though, Bounds does extend “A plea for short praying, live praying, real heart praying, praying by the Holy Spirit—direct, specific, ardent, simply, unctuous in the pulpit.”

And more so than you, just so you know.

I cannot help but be “the professional” pastor, prayer, and pulpiteer. But perhaps I can help others pray more authentically as I do so. It will still pale in comparison to Jesus’ praying. And my praying and preaching may be compared favorably or unfavorably to others you would hear. But rather than measuring ourselves by ourselves and comparing ourselves with ourselves (see the II Corinthians quote below), I am seeking to more authentically respond to the immeasurably higher love and devotion that Jesus has shown, not only as an example for expressing my love and devotion should be toward the Father, but as an simpler exhibition of Christ’s own love toward me.

The Apostle Paul writes in II Corinthians 10:12, “For we are not bold to class or compare ourselves with some of those who commend themselves;” (whether to Gallup, Barna, Pew, or any other poll-takers), “but when they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are without understanding.” Far more important than whether you or I were graded to be the better Christian, may we seek, “unreservedly,” a devotion that emulates that of Jesus Christ toward the Father, and toward us.

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[1] According to ABC News, 83% of U.S. adults are Christians. (July 18, 2015 – “Poll: Most Americans Say They're Christian” - http://abcnews.go.com/US/story?id=90356&page=1) The Pew Research Center puts the figure at 70.6%. (“About the 2014 U.S. Religious Landscape Study” - http://www.pewforum.org/about-the-religious-landscape-study/)