Crackpot: “An eccentric, crazy or foolish person.”
I am, undeniably, a cracked-pot pastor.
Not growing up in Church, I didn’t observe pastors performing their duties. I never had pastoral role models to later imitate. I never picked up the mannerisms, or the manner of speech. I never learned the “right things” to say or do in given situations. I never had expectations of who or what a pastor is supposed to be. I never learned the nuances.
I didn’t even learn the familiar Bible stories – in Sunday School and sermons – as most pastors do.
By the time I was around pastors, I was becoming one myself.
And, most of my ministry has been just outside the traditional pastoral role. I was a youth director, then an associate pastor (allowed a lot of “non-traditional” freedoms), a church-planter (of a VERY non-traditional church), and a campus minister. I didn’t actually become a traditional-“ish” pastor until about four years ago!
I still find myself wondering, almost daily, “Is this what a pastor is supposed to think, say, feel, do?” I often conclude the answer must be “no.” After almost twenty-five years of ministry, I’m still figuring out this job every day. I still call colleagues, asking, “Is this what I’m supposed to? How would you handle this? Do your members expect this-or-that, or do such-and-such?” I feel like I need to apologize frequently for NOT saying or doing something I should have known to say or do.
The role of “pastor,” is still a mystery to me, even as a I try my best to do it. I must be a crackpot – crazy and/or foolish – to think I can do this job!
If I’m honest – and, I really value honesty – ministry is a struggle for me. People call me “pastor,” and I wonder who they are talking to. I mumble and stumble through prayers. I wonder, sometimes, if my sermons are too off the wall. I don’t pick up on the non-verbal cues that someone needs something pastoral from me. I wonder if I’m too introverted. I think I might be way too comfortable with “grey,” when people seem to want “black and white” answers from me. I don’t have the clothes for the job, the words for the job, or the mannerisms for the job.
Maybe I’m too comfortable with saying, “I have no idea…” Maybe my ideas and dreams are too lofty, when people really need a pastor to be a practical decision-maker. Maybe I’m too private. Maybe I’m too political – or not political enough?
Often – lately – I just feel inadequate. As a pastor, I feel inadequate. Let’s be honest – I am inadequate.
Especially as my community reels from the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School tragedy, I can’t help but wonder what I’m NOT doing, that needs to be done. As I sit at my desk, scratching my head, I wonder, “What, who, am I forgetting? What does my church, my community need from me? What is God calling us to do in response? What’s the right thing to say?”
Other pastors seem to be moving with such confidence; rushing to the school on the day of the shooting, planning and attending prayer vigils, organizing events, planning fundraisers. I’m in awe of their clarity, focus and energy.
Pastors call or email me, offering to help, asking what we need, and I find I don’t know what to say. I’m grateful for their offers, of course. I just don’t know.
I’m not writing any of this to make excuses for my pastoral shortcomings, or to evoke sympathy for my inadequacies. I’m not looking for a pat on the back or an “attaboy!” I’m just being honest.
And, I honestly wonder if other pastors might wrestle with the some of the same feelings, even if for different reasons. Perhaps I’m not the only pastor who feels inadequate.
The truth is, we’re all inadequate, aren’t we? I’m pretty sure every pastor is inadequate, to some degree. Even as we offer our very best ideas and efforts, we all fall short. Even as we shine in one moment, we falter in the next. Even as we care for one person well, we may miss the person who needed us even more. Even as we impress some, we inevitably offend others. No pastor is sufficiently adequate for everything that’s expected and needed from us, 100% of the time. We are, after all, human.
But, thank God, we serve someone who is more than adequate. In moments like these, I take considerable assurance from 2 Corinthians 4:7, “We ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
The very best of us – the smartest, most experienced, most eloquent, wisest, tireless, best dressed – fall short too. Oddly, I take comfort in that. But, thus far, in my life and ministry, God hasn’t fallen short. In spite of being a fragile, “cracked -pot” pastor, God sometimes manages to use me. Or, at least I hope so.
So, again today, I’ll try as hard as I can to be a pastor, even as I know I’m inadequate for the job. When (not if) I fall short, please be patient with me. Please forgive me when I disappoint you – and I will. And, as much as possible, even as I fail, I hope you’ll look more to the treasure I represent, and less to the cracked, fragile container I obviously am.