21 Reasons You're a Pretty Sorry Excuse for a Pastor

All of these are true, verified by experience and/or personal observation:

21. You used the word 'divorce' in a sermon once, proving that you think divorced people are second class citizens.

20. You're not friendly, i.e., you once failed to wave at a church member, no matter that you didn't see the member. Since then, you've been Pastor Aloof.

19. You once preached the same message twice and top shelf pastors don't do that, according to the member who notes in his Bible in the text margins the date you preached on that passage. The fact that he doesn't remember enough to know if it was the same sermon is irrelevant.

18. You were far too calloused and uncaring as evidenced by your completely ignoring a member's major surgery. Not knowing about it is no excuse. The fact that it was outpatient surgery is not a mitigating factor nor is the fact that it was a bunionectomy. You don't care about your members.

17. You are too loud.

16. You are too quiet.

15. Inexplicably, you failed to eat a generous helping of Miss Maggie's boiled rutabaga. No, you don't deserve a medal for trying the dish in the face of all physiological discouragement, including nausea and revulsion.

14. Your sermons are too long, proving that you just like to hear yourself preach, think you know everything, and are oblivious to members' busy Sunday schedules.

13. Your sermons are too short, proving that you are lazy and unspiritual.

12. You didn't baptize little Bubba, the four year-old who told you he came to the front because his granny told him to.

11. You used a sermon illustration that everyone had already heard.

10. You used a sermon illustration that everyone had already heard and you didn't tell it right.

9. Your wife is too reserved.

8. Your wife is too talkative.

7. Your kids aren't perfect.

6. You didn't get Sister Sarah's drunken, womanizing, cussin' husband saved before he died.

5. Your don't feed the flock, or at least the unspiritual, backslidden, Biblical ignoramus who wouldn't know solid preaching if it bit him on the nose.

4. You talk too much about politics.

3. You talk too little about politics.

2. You don't preach 'spiritual' sermons, i.e., sermons that are full of sappy stories, and tear jerking illustrations that hasten members to instant, emotional pseudo-repentance.

1. You aren't Brother Beatified, your walks-on-water predecessor.
_______________

There are plenty more.

Plodder goes to church, formerly his own

One of things that always interests pastors is their relationship with their predecessors and successors in the pulpit. Unless a pastor starts a new church or closes down an established one, he has predecessors and successors, probably a bunch of them.

I'm pleased to say that, so far as I know, I have always had good relationships with the my predecessors and successors. I even had a cordial relationship with one man who was both my predecessor and successor - he bracketed me by serving the same church twice.

In my case, I've always moved far enough away so that it was not very convenient or feasable to go back for a lot of events. I've also had sense enough not to think I was able to or needed to pastor more than one church at a time and thus never tried to continue serving as unofficial pastor of a church I'd resigned and left.

But retirement is different. I'm around the same folks and am aware of the routine matters of the church and members. Did I mention that occcasionally I'm told "we miss you" and other nice flattery? It takes deliberate effort to not pastor the folks I've pastored for so long.

Over the years, my ears have always perked up when my ministerial colleagues have shared their stories about predecessors.

One pastor friend shared that the former pastor, a 30+ year man, was not only still a member of the church but was on the search committee that called him. Since he accepted a call to that church, one presumes that he (a) considered himself bulletproof, (b) was exceptionally desperate for a place to serve, (c) was incredibly naive, and/or (d) was perfectly willing to be called the senior pastor but function as the junior pastor. He indeed had a difficult time. What were both of these men thinking?

Another followed a man with 30+ year tenure. While the departing pastor did not stay in the church, he told the new pastor that he would support him but admonished not to "change anything that I did." The new pastor did a good job. He did what he thought the Lord wanted rather than assuming that all of his predecessor's actions were handed down from Mt. Sinai and written by God's finger on stone tablets. Predictably, he did suffer much unnecessary grief at the hands of his goofball predecessor.

There are more tales but these two are among my most notable. I'm sure you have yours.

I understand that other denominations, United Methodists for example, have specific, enforceable rules for this sort of thing. Wouldn't that be great? Having trouble with a predecessor? Call the denominational pastor police.

Alas, our system doesn't allow for such. Rather, it presumes good sense and reasonable judgment on behalf of all of the churches and ministers, a ridiculous proposition proven to be not just false but preposterous. While we wouldn't stand for any rules imposed from above on pastors and churches, I suspect that we secretly envy our hierarchical brethren and sistren for such things. Being local church autonomophiles has a price.

So yesterday, we attended the Christmas Day services at my former church. A professional singer (opera) who used to be in the church was home and was to sing. We wanted to see and hear him and enjoyed doing so. Besides, yesterday was the fifth Sunday since I left and we had yet to hear a pastor preach in any of the churches we have visited. The interim pastor preached and did a good job. I also knew where to sit so as to not take anyone's regular pew.

I don't intend to attend the church I just left. In the meantime, while the church has an interim pastor with limited duties, it's not an issue for me to visit or attend occasional events.

When my former church calls a permanent pastor, I'll make myself scarce. I'd hate to end up as the subject of some blog.