Thoughts on Becoming a Pastor (Again)

By / Aug 8

For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before our Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you?
— 1 Thessalonians 2:19

Last night four men, myself included, were added to the board of elders at Liberty Baptist Church. And just like that, I became a pastor again (albeit of the lay variety). Eight years ago this fall, I resigned my last pastorate and entered an anxious kind of identity crisis I did not anticipate. While I was a pastor, I talked a big game about not making pastoral ministry the grounds of one’s identity — I even wrote a book sort of on that subject! — and I believed (and believe) every word of it. But I did not realize pastoral ministry had become an idol to me until I recognized the Lord was asking me to set it aside. For how long, I didn’t know.

The questions people asked me in the ensuing months and years — primarily, “Do you think you’ll ever pastor again?” — didn’t help. On one level, it was encouraging to know people thought I ought to be a pastor. On deeper levels, it was unsettling, because it only served to confirm my suspicions that I was somehow squandering my gifts, running from my “true calling,” or generally not as useful as a layperson as I could be. And then a funny thing happened. Time went by. People asked the questions less and less. And I actually got used to not being a pastor. By God’s grace, I actually enjoyed not being a pastor!

It helped that the Lord was sweet and kind to open up new avenues of usefulness for me. Training young men for the pastorate via my faculty role at Midwestern Seminary and as director of the Pastoral Training Center residency at Liberty Baptist has been a joy and a “sweet spot.” Of course, I still wrestled from time to time about teaching (and speaking and writing) about the pastorate while not serving in one. The old saw about “those who can’t do, teach” pops into my brain more than I care to admit. But in general, I have learned to follow the Lord’s leading and be content where he has placed me, not being ruled by what I assume others may think.

A number of years ago, before our church had a plurality of elders and our senior pastor was leading us into establishing a more biblical polity in that regard, I was approached with the question about whether I’d like to be considered if and when the time came for congregational affirmation. I said no. Honestly, I wasn’t ready. For one thing, I knew there would only be two or three of us, and I didn’t think I had the bandwidth or availability to shoulder such a narrowly-shared load. But I also said no because I was still pretty wounded, and so was my wife. That’s a story for another time, but Becky would tell you that at that time she had zero interest in being a pastor’s wife again.

So we settled into being the best church members we could be, loving the family we’d covenanted with to the best of our abilities, imperfectly but earnestly. And we sought to be the best encouragers of our pastors we could be. I have learned from pastoring that former pastors are often ideal church members, if only because they know what it’s like “on the other side.” We took Hebrews 13:17 seriously and endeavored to be church members our pastors could breathe easily with, easily smile when they saw us coming, and so on.

We love our church dearly. We’d both say it has been a place of tremendous healing for us. I hadn’t been asked if I wanted to be considered for eldership for several years, so there was no real reason to ask, but a couple of years ago I finally asked my wife, “If I’m ever asked again, what do you think?” It is a sign of incredible grace in both of our lives, that Becky responded: “At this church? Yes.” I can’t tell you how huge that is.

And so a couple of months ago the elders informed me that I was one of the nominations received for our prospective expansion of the elder board, and they asked if I was willing to enter the process of examination and consideration. I took a couple of weeks to talk with Becky, to pray and think. Was I really ready to do this again?

At this church? Yes.

Because one thing I’d learned deep down over twenty-plus years of ministry — but one thing that really only came to the surface for me in recent years — is that answering a call to ministry is not about personal ambition or desire, but about a covenantal connection, a familial bond, if you will. The call comes from the Lord, yes, but it comes through the church. So I asked the elders, “Did a substantial number of people nominate me?” Honestly, I asked this not because I was looking for some sense of popularity or to puff up my ego — I didn’t ask how many or who — but because I wanted to be sure it wasn’t simply that one or two of my friends submitted my name or the elders had themselves wanted me to put my name in the hat, but that it was desired, reasonably ascertained, by the church.

Another thing I’ve learned over the years is that even men biblically qualified to pastor a church are never really prepared to pastor their church. You come to know things about your brothers and sisters you wouldn’t ordinarily know simply as a congregant. You are obligated to speak into situations you wouldn’t ordinarily speak into. And I know from experience both as a pastor and as a non-pastor that pastors carry unique burdens non-pastors don’t. There is that “daily pressure of the anxiety for the church” (2 Cor. 11:28). I have slept better in the last seven years than I did the years previous! As the other three recently voted-in elders and I took our pastoral oaths last night, I felt this heaviness settle back onto my shoulders. Not in an ominous or otherwise negative way; not at all. But simply as a sobering re-reminder of the noble task (1 Tim. 3:1).

But then the congregation stood to recite their oaths to love and support us. And at every loud, resolute, resounding “We will” and “We do,” I became a little emotional, as I could hear the Spirit in my heart assuring me the burden is beautiful. Not because pastors are more special than anybody else. Not because there’s anything inherently great about pastors. But because there’s something supernaturally special and eternally great about the Church.

So while I have and will continue to joke along the lines of the iconic Michael Corleone line from The Godfather, Part III, “Just when I think I’m out, they pull me back in!,” I’m grateful for the pull. And if you’re a pastor, you should be too. I know some of you reading this haven’t had seven years off. Some of you haven’t had seven days off! And I acknowledge the distinct load of those who labor vocationally or bivocationally or who labor in solo pastorates without the benefit of seven(!) other godly men to help tend to Christ’s precious lambs. I acknowledge that many of you feel beat up and thrown about, especially after the last few years of absolute polarizing weirdness in evangelical churches, disparaged, discouraged, or even depressed. But the pull is something to thank God for. He has appointed you for such times as these. He has stewarded this time, these churches to us.

There are a lot of weird churches out there, places with a lot of problems, a lot of hurt, a lot of baggage, a lot of sin. But, this side of heaven, that’s just normal, brothers. And because heaven is where her citizenship is held, the Bride is nevertheless perpetually beautiful. Your church might be a mess, but the Church is glorious. And if we’re for the Church, by God’s grace we’ll do what she says.

Only let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, and to which God has called him. This is my rule in all the churches.
— 1 Corinthians 7:17



Episode 171: Sexual Purity in an Impure Age

By / Aug 3

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ross Ferguson discuss pursuing holiness in the area of sexuality while the world around us seems to be on fire with impurity and temptation.



The True and Better Leonardo

By / Aug 2

The world recognizes Leonardo da Vinci as one of history’s great artists, arguably the greatest ever. His Mona Lisa is the most famous painting the world will ever know. He never finally finished the picture. He was still working on it at the time of his death. Leonardo kept it with him, moving it from city to city, never handing it over to the one who commissioned it, because he was never done perfecting it. He tinkered and touched up and remade it throughout his last years of life. He even went to the lengths of painting the undergarments so that the proper texture was visible on the outer garment. He was meticulous and discerning. He researched the muscles of lips on corpses to get the smile just right—a smile that has sparked conversation since its revealing so many years ago. Is she smiling or not? Look at her eyes, and it appears the answer is yes. Look at her mouth, and it becomes debatable. Who could paint such a face full of motion? Only Leonardo because he alone cared enough to research the exact movements of the human mouth. He was never finished until the painting attained a specific and intentional character. So too is God.

In his book, The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis says about God something we see in Leonardo’s intention with his art. “We are, not metaphorically but in very truth, a Divine work of art, something that God is making, and therefore something with which He will not be satisfied until it has a certain character.” Just as a Leonardo worked on the Mona Lisa (and, in fact, many of his other paintings—he was a meticulous procrastinator and denier of deadlines), so too is God working on us all our lives. We are never off his mind. Even as he goes about upholding the world, spinning the stars, balancing the weights of the universe, his purposes are for our fully-formed character aligned to his.

God is the true and better Leonardo. But rather than taking a blank canvas and layering paint drop by drop, he takes a soiled heart, made hard by sin, and softens it, reworks it, in fact, remakes it into his image. His art is not of the kind to hang on a wall for admiration. It’s the kind that stands in the hall, shouting down the corridors the glory of the artist. He’s creating not a showpiece but sons and daughters for himself. And if he’s producing such characters for his own enjoyment and pleasure, to share a part in his joy and gladness, why would he be content with any remaining sin or spot or imperfection? Why stop with good enough when he has all the holiness, righteousness, and goodness at his disposal? Indeed he will not stop. Every painting goes through a stage of harm, one in which the picture appears a blurry mess and incomplete disaster. But over time, at least for Leonardo, the lines became the proper amount of blurry as to look real, the eyes reached the appropriate depth as to become a welcoming gaze, the perspective and optics arrived at their maturity as to come alive. So too in the hand of God shall we one day arrive.

Editor’s Note: This article originally published at Things of the Sort. 



Episode 170: Dean Inserra on What’s Wrong with Purity Culture

By / Jul 27


Elicia Horton on Longevity in Marriage

By / Jul 21

What is a key ingredient for longevity in marriage?



Episode 169: Worship Leader Pet Peeves

By / Jul 20

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ross Ferguson discuss things worship leaders do that they wish they wouldn’t (and a few things they’re glad they do).



D.A. Horton on the Importance of Reaching College Students

By / Jul 19

Why should ministries concern themselves with reaching college students?



The Narrow Circle Thine Own Life

By / Jul 16

“Thou shalt arise, and have mercy upon Zion: for the time to favour her, yea, the set time is come. For thy servants take pleasure in her stones, and favour the dust thereof.”
Psalm 102:13-14

A selfish man in trouble is exceedingly hard to comfort, because the springs of his comfort lie entirely within himself, and when he is sad all his springs are dry. But a large-hearted man full of Christian philanthropy, has other springs from which to supply himself with comfort beside those which lie within. He can go to his God first of all, and there find abundant help; and he can discover arguments for consolation in things relating to the world at large, to his country, and, above all, to the church. David in this Psalm was exceedingly sorrowful; he wrote, “I am like an owl of the desert. I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the house top.” The only way in which he could comfort himself, was in the reflection that God would arise, and have mercy upon Zion: though he was sad, yet Zion should prosper; however low his own estate, yet Zion should arise. Christian man! learn to comfort thyself in God’s gracious dealing towards the church. That which is so dear to thy Master, should it not be dear above all else to thee? What though thy way be dark, canst thou not gladden thine heart with the triumphs of his cross and the spread of his truth? Our own personal troubles are forgotten while we look, not only upon what God has done, and is doing for Zion, but on the glorious things he will yet do for his church. Try this receipt, O believer, whenever thou art sad of heart and in heaviness of spirit: forget thyself and thy little concerns, and seek the welfare and prosperity of Zion. When thou bendest thy knee in prayer to God, limit not thy petition to the narrow circle of thine own life, tried though it be, but send out thy longing prayers for the church’s prosperity, “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem,” and thine own soul shall be refreshed.



J.T. English on Theological Formation in the Church

By / Jul 15

What advice would you give pastors who are interested in starting theological formation in their church?



More Than Eggheads in Ivory Towers: Three Reasons Why I Study Theology

By / Jul 15

“The love of God is a delightful and affectionate sense of the divine perfections, which makes the soul resign and sacrifice itself wholly unto him.” [1]

“Why would you study theology? The disciples didn’t have a theology degree, did they? What’s the point?”

Ever since I first considered seminary, I’ve encountered this question on more than one occasion. Sometimes, friends ask out of genuine curiosity. More often than not though, the question is posed as an accusation, as if they’re trying to discover my pomp and ego.

Over the years, I’ve tried to refine and develop my answer. And since the question recently came up again in my own life, I wanted to detail my typical response and give three reasons I choose to study theology. In so doing, I hope you’ll be encouraged to consider why you study theology or might consider taking up the pursuit.

1. Study Theology to Enjoy God

At its core, Christianity is not a how-to religion, but a faith centered on knowing God and all things in relation to God.

Typically, when people refer to theology as an unnecessary pursuit, they aren’t thinking of this definition. They are thinking of the theology done by eggheads in ivory towers away from the real concerns of real people with real lives. In this way, I would agree with them! The image of Humpty Dumpty should be seared into the minds of every theology student. Take heed, lest we make the great fall! Theology must connect real people with real lives to a real God. Knowing God is the goal of theology.

I’ve found that the more I know God, the more I relax in this life. As Thaddeus Williams recently said, “The more often we remind ourselves of the size and splendor of the God we’re serving, the less seriously we take ourselves.”

Every true bit of theology should cause our souls, as Henry Scougal put it, to resign and resolve wholly to Christ. We resign to all other pursuits for identity and righteousness in this life, and we resolve to follow Him and Him alone for the rest of our lives. This is what true theology should accomplish for our souls. 

As we saturate our studies in the grace of Jesus, the love of God, the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, and so much more, we can handle anything this life throws our way.

Theology teaches me not only to know God, but to enjoy life with him now.

2. Study Theology to Be Transformed

 2 Corinthians 3:18 says, “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.”

If we want to experience change in our lives, we must know God. If this is true, then to experience change in our lives, we must study theology. Humbly, yes. But we must not neglect looking to Christ to be transformed. 

According to this verse and others, believers are transformed into God’s likeness as we behold God’s glory. Beholding is the means to becoming.

I would argue that virtually every command we’re given in Scripture is rooted in God’s character. God didn’t make it complicated. We simply look at Him and act accordingly. For example:

  • “Love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12)
  • “Forgive one another, just as God in Christ forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:32)
  • “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you for the glory of God.” (Romans 15:7)

We look at how God acts, and act like Him. In theology, we call these communicable attributes- or the specific attributes of God that we should imitate.  

We may not need the term, but we need the idea. Here, theology shows me that you can’t truly look at God in His glory and be unaffected. We will change one way or another. The same sun that melts the ice, hardens the clay. The same is true of human hearts.

 If you desire change in your life, look to Christ. Study theology to be transformed.

3. Study Theology to Make Disciples

In other words, study theology to share theology. In making disciples, we are teaching others to love the Lord with all their heart, mind, soul, and strength. How can we do that apart from knowing who He is and what He’s like?

We must know Him truly if we are to teach others to love Him deeply. And as we teach others to behold God’s excellencies and beauty, they also enjoy Him and the whole earth will be filled with the glory of God.

We must, as Paul says, impart theology to Timothy’s who will teach faithful men who will teach others also. But we impart theology so others may love and enjoy God.

C.S. Lewis famously said, “We delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation.” 

This remains true of theology. We have not fully enjoyed the theology we study until we share it with others, until we can’t help but share Him with others! The glories of God’s goodness, the delight in the doctrine of double imputation, were meant to be shouted from the mountaintops! Granted, these doctrines are impossible to fully comprehend, but as we begin to see who He is and what He’s done, we will experience a joy we’ll have forever as we express that to others in making disciples for the glory of God and the good of others. 

Theology for Life

So, there it is. My common answers for why I choose to study theology. Studying theology changes my life. Studying theology makes my life better. I’m tempted to caveat my answer here with descriptions of the temptations toward pride in theology, the difference between a humble knowledge and puffed-up knowledge, and the duty for theological kindness. As much as those things are true, and more caveats as well, I’d rather leave this post where it’s at and end on a positive note.

There are so many good reasons to study theology. If a degree from a seminary will work in line with these purposes, then I’m all for it. Do we need seminary? Certainly not. The disciples didn’t get a PhD, right? But can seminary be a faithful way to cultivate worship in our hearts and help teach us how to do that for others as well? It was for me. And continues to be so.  

If my PhD journey can be used to help me enjoy God, be transformed into His image, and make disciples, then it will accomplish its purpose. And I believe it can.

[1] Henry Scougal, The Life of God in the Soul of Man.