It should come as no surprise that in times of leadership change those being led get a bit jumpy. Maybe you are waiting to see who the new senior pastor will be – the one who will have a huge stake in your future as an associate staff member. Or you are witnessing a changing of the guard in your mission organization. My wife and I, along with many of our colleagues and friends, have experienced major changes in leadership in the last couple of years, both here at Talbot (new Dean) and at church (new senior pastor). Happily, our experiences have gone very well.
Nehemiah is one of the most heralded examples of leadership found in the scriptures. We have been focusing on his heart, and saw in Part One how he (1) cared enough to accurately assess the circumstances confronting his people; (2) was sensitive to the brokenness of his people; and (3) was focused continually on redeeming the lives of his people.
Pastors have many roles. They are teachers, evangelists, caregivers, guardians, and leaders. Much is written about these areas of endeavor, but perhaps none as much as leadership. Recently the Society of Human Resource Managers released figures from a global survey of corporations that revealed 57% of all of the organizations surveyed employ outside vendors to provide leadership training. Companies know the great importance of good leadership.
A couple years back my wife Rolane and I visited ten of our wonderful Midwest Talbot alumni. What a joy to see them all thriving, finding God faithful, and knowing days of effective and challenging ministry. While we were in the area, we took the opportunity to visit my hometown of Hospers, Iowa and spent a little time with my cousins living there. Some of them I hadn’t been with in over 30 years - so long that we all wore nametags to keep from getting confused! While I only spent the first seventeen years of my life on the farm, it played a significant role in who I am today. In going back home, certain impressions left their mark on my mind and heart. Let me elaborate ...
After a Talbot chapel some time ago, in which we struggled with three or four 'glitches' in the program, my dear colleague Dennis Gaines leaned over and said to me, "I call these things weeds". Yes, weeds...those little irritations that prevent our best efforts from being the gems of perfection we designed them to be.
It started as I was picking up toys from a visit by our precious grandchildren. Strewn about the living room, into the kitchen and out the back door was a dizzying array of colorful plastic pieces of everything from ‘Cootie’ to ‘Madeline’s Christmas Book and Doll Set’. This scene had played out before – every time those five bundles of energy had ‘left the building’.
First it was a fishing boat. Sixteen feet of aluminum, shining in the sun. Always an avid angler, this would be his ultimate pleasure. Later would come the shop full of woodworking tools. Playing 'Hans the Woodcrafter' would provide hours of enjoyment during the frigid months of an Iowa winter. I was too young to care, let alone figure out what motivated my dad to launch into these hobbies during my grade school years. He was in his forties then, an old man by kid standards, and pursuing his life-long passion of farming.
On a visit to the old mission district in San Juan Capistrano some years ago, my wife Rolane and I were fortunate to happen upon one of California's oldest adobe houses when the curator of the structure was present. A bronze sculptor by trade, this man had just been chosen from among a host of hopefuls to restore the over 200 year old home to its former glory. At once this man's zeal for his task was evident. In an animated discussion lasting well over a half hour, he described the ambitious plans to completely recreate in exacting detail the historical and cultural realities of the days of Mexican rule over what is now Orange County. What struck me about this fellow, aside from his storehouse of knowledge, was the passion with which he was engaging this challenge. He was in the process of taking a dusty old building and transforming it into a living and vibrant piece of California's past. There was no doubt in our minds that here was an individual who was enjoying his life and work to the fullest. What a refreshing encounter!
It happens every time. I’m pulling up to a red light and there’s a car or two in front of me. But the next lane over is clear. So what do I do? Pull over so I can be first in line when the light turns green, of course! (Unless the guy in front of me beats me to it!) Then there’s how slow my computer can be. What’s with that little colored wheel rotating around and around and around….while I wait for a function to be completed! I thought OS X 10.infinity was supposed make everything go faster!!
Rolane and I took home many impressions from our visit to Israel back in 1994. Not the least among them was the image of shepherds ‘abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flock’. As we hurried in true western fashion from one important site to another, we came upon one or more of these caretakers seemingly just ‘hanging out’ with their wooly charges. We were impressed because their demeanor was in such sharp contrast to the model of shepherding we often see in our churches and ourselves. In the midst of hurrying about being faithful feeders, guides, guardians and healers of our people, we often neglect the power and blessing of just being there with them.
It wasn’t long after starting my pastorate in Washington State that I realized a hobby would be a good thing. I needed an activity that was far removed from ministry – something that would divert my attention away from the stresses brought on by working with people – an escape, if you will.
It was a dark and stormy night. No, really. Cruising down a dark two-lane country road, this sixteen year-old wasn’t paying attention. And then it happened – the crunch of metal followed by that surreal quiet when an accident victim checks to see if all his parts are still attached. Happily, I escaped without a bruise. The family car, however, a 1954 Chrysler New Yorker, was out of commission.
When we moved into our house several years ago the backyard was a mess. The previous owners had large dogs, which had torn up whatever grass had survived from the late 50’s, when the neighborhood was built. And there was that ugly wall separating us from the folks next door. One of the first outdoor projects involved building trellises next to this wall and planting vines that would, according to our plan, climb up and hide that eyesore. For those of you who are landscape challenged, a trellis is a framework of light wood or metal bars used mainly as a support for climbing plants. Well, it’s been 20 years since I built those trellises, and I hadn’t given them much thought – until about a year ago. Wandering through Rolane’s delightful collection of flowers and plants, I noticed that one section of my handiwork was rotting and falling apart. But the vine was doing well. In fact, it was now holding up the trellis! That made me think about the nature of the trellis, and how it reflects the realities of what we do in ministry. Let me elaborate.
It was fun while it lasted. My wife Rolane and I just returned from a week in a seaside condo in Huntington Beach, CA. We came back home just before the U.S. Open surfing championship there, in time to escape the record throng that attended.
Biola University