Ministry is tough. Beyond tough. It’s a calling to a task that you cannot do, even when you find yourself in the “right place at the right time”. The experience is often like leading a group of people to a place they don’t want to go and that are convinced they can do it better than you, but often “don’t feel led” to step up and help lead the way. One thing is for sure: if you are called to ministry, you are going to take some hits, and longevity in this calling is directly connected to your resiliency.
Resiliency is the capacity to withstand or recover quickly from difficulties. God calls it the “perseverance of the saints”. Every believer needs it if we are to hear “well done, good and faithful servant”, and we as leaders are called to model it. Resiliency is a mind and heart issue. How we view God, ourselves, and our callings not only determines how we engage the challenges of ministry but whether we are still walking with Jesus at the end of our days.
Here are a few lessons I have learned along the way that have helped me keep my faith and my calling:
God’s Kingdom or your Career. You can’t pursue both.
How about starting your ministry off with a healthy dose of disillusionment? I was fortunate to come to faith in a church where people were committed to personal disciple-making. It was not an “official” ministry or program in the church. It was the contagious result originating from a handful of people. Add to that a pastor who was fiery and passionate about living a life “recklessly abandoned to Jesus,” and it truly was water to the soul of this twenty-year-old new believer.
Shortly after God’s call on my life was settled, I got the opportunity to do an “old-school” summer evangelism circuit in the Dakotas, Montana, and Minnesota. Halfway through the summer, I was serving a church in Bismarck, ND. After the closing service, the pastor took me out to dinner and told me this crazy story of how he left a congregation of 300 in Alabama to restart a church of seven people in North Dakota. Then he looked me in the eyes and said, “I want to offer you a position on my staff. I don’t know what you will do for food or money, but I promise you the ride of your life.” This was not part of my plan. Beyond the fears of the obvious (I like food and housing), this challenged my entire view of calling and ministry. It also would change my access to education and alter my preparation plan for ministry.
By the end of the summer, God broke my heart. As I wept over this decision in my prayer time, as sure as if Jesus had sat down next to me, I heard the Lord say to me, “Rick, is this about My Kingdom or your career?” It was settled. “Jesus, I choose Your Kingdom.” When I returned to Florida and shared the news with my church, I was told, “Son, if you make this move, you will never serve in the caliber church you came out of.” That was not the response I expected. Recklessly abandoned to the God who died to pay my ransom, I determined if I was ever going to experience the Kingdom of God it had to begin with Him being THE ruler of my life. My resumé is a mess, but that decision began the ride of my life.
Recklessly abandoned to the God who died to pay my ransom, I determined if I was ever going to experience the Kingdom of God it had to begin with Him being THE ruler of my life. My resumé is a mess, but that decision began the ride of my life.
You are called to a mission, not a ministry.
As with most lessons, we would not choose to experience them if given the choice. This one is hard. It still hurts… a lot. What once was a sense of clarity and security is now replaced with the bittersweet experience of grief. Bitter in that we started a church and had to close that church. Sweet in the sense that we got to be used of God in a way we could not have imagined.
God called us to start a church in one of Denver’s top ten unreached urban communities. God placed us in a community that was antagonistic towards Jesus and Christianity. Most days we were caught between faithfully sharing the gospel and avoiding being protested on the evening news. We had a simple and straightforward disciple-making vision: “Because everyone needs more hope, genuine community, and a clearer picture of God’s love, we pursue Jesus, build community, and restore hope.” God was faithful. He used our church to reach many who were lost, to help many who had church hurts to heal and trust the community of faith again, and He softened the hardness of hearts in our community that opened doors for other church planters.
So, what happened? The living arrangements we had that afforded us the ability to live in the community disappeared. Unable to purchase or rent at $500 a square foot, we found ourselves living 30 minutes outside of the community we were trying to start a church in. Needless to say, it was not sustainable. After a lot of prayer, our church knew it was time to let go. We began the process of tearfully sending each church member off to their new church home until all that remained was my family in our living room wondering, “What’s next for us?”
So, with interviews in place for six different ministry opportunities, we packed up and moved to Texas for what we thought was a short stay with family. All six opportunities faded away. I ended up delivering packages out of my suburban over the holiday season, hoping to earn a permanent role at UPS. I landed that role, so every morning at 1:00 am, I was in a hot, smelly warehouse fighting with union employees and boxes trying to put food on the table. I was angry at God. “After twenty-five years of faithful service, really?” Then it hit me. “Rick, everyone here needs more hope, genuine community, and a clearer picture of God’s love. The question is, will you pursue me (Jesus), build community, and restore hope?” I became known as The Rev at our center. The mission of making disciples had not changed, just the location.
If you are in conflict with your church, seek counsel so you can see clearly. Do not take the bait of internalizing the conflict. Lean into your faith and ask God to help you see the war behind the battle.
Ministry is a declaration of war. Expect a fight.
Of all the lessons, this one is the hardest to endure. My friend invited me to join the staff of the church he was pastoring. “I have an opportunity for you. I want you to help lead a church to embrace missional living that has split four times since 1984.” Those remaining in the church knew how to fight, and win! They had been there and done that FOUR TIMES. The church was growing, and we had a clear path of maturing disciples who would make disciples. Then God called my friend to the Czech Republic. I had only been there 10 months. Most saw me as the successor of the church. A few did not.
One of those who did not want me as the next pastor became the chairman of the search team. He had a background in politics. Even though I withdrew my name from the search process, the personal attacks and constant conflict were crushing. Everything within me wanted to defend, to attack. Here’s the lesson: Make sure you are fighting the right enemy with the right weapons for the right reasons.
With the counsel of a faithful Elder at the church, I embraced that my enemy was not flesh and blood. I prayed in ways I had never prayed before. I advocated for God’s vision of unity and being one body with one faith. I discovered that this church had not had a faithful leader until my friend started serving the church. When my friend left for the mission field, all that fear and pain from the past came to the surface. We were all standing toe to toe with the forces of darkness that had sidelined this incredible group of people. Shouldn’t we expect this? The gospel literally rescues people from hell. If you are in conflict with your church, seek counsel so you can see clearly. Do not take the bait of internalizing the conflict. Lean into your faith and ask God to help you see the war behind the battle. Then, in His Spirit, wisdom, and authority serve and lead towards His victory.
Insecurities and competitive spirits are like glass walls that prevent true love and trust from being the foundation of your service to God’s people.
There is room in people’s hearts to love more than one leader.
Ministry has a way of revealing insecurities you are unaware you have. I followed a beloved student pastor, and I could not have been more opposite of him. To complicate things, the church had unexpectedly lost its beloved Senior Pastor in a car accident. Everyone was reeling. Due to the sudden loss and the ensuing exodus of staff members who could not grieve and remain, the church “felt different,” but the church could not grasp why. So, the staff that stayed, or like me joined, would have to lead from the shadow cast by a great cloud of witnesses. If I heard it one time, I heard it a thousand times, “You are not like…, or when so and so was here…” How you respond to statements like these will forever change your soul. I had to step back and try to put myself in their place. How would I feel If I suddenly lost a leader I dearly loved and respected? What would I want for the church if I were called home? Here’s the lesson. There is room in people’s hearts to love more than one leader.
My response to their memories of my predecessor shifted from insecurity and competition to, “He sounds like an amazing person.” I could begin to appreciate all he contributed to the ministry I was now entrusted with. I no longer felt the need to become anyone other than who I was called to be. It also allowed the church to love me. Insecurities and competitive spirits are like glass walls that prevent true love and trust from being the foundation of your service to God’s people. If you make them your companions, you will not be doing ministry long.
Faithful ministry is not what we do for God. Neither is it what we do with God. It is what we do when we are in God. Hidden. Engulfed. Abiding.
Work as if it is never up to you.
Ministry is a funny thing. God saves a person who cannot save themselves. Then God calls that person to the mission of making disciples, a work that only the Holy Spirit can ratify in a believer’s life. Yet, we are called to join God in this mission of making disciples of all nations. As Jesus puts it in John 15:5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”
The great temptation in our callings as pastors is to evaluate our effectiveness by the wrong external measures. Doing so convinces us that if we do more, try harder, and are good enough, then our ministries will be all that God wants them to be, or at least what we want them to be. The problem with this line of thinking is that Jesus and the Holy Spirit are spectators of your work, and our efforts are subconsciously built on a pseudo foundation that hopes to earn God’s blessing and favor. You will not survive emotionally and spiritually under this kind of weight.
Ministry is work. Don’t get me wrong. Jesus uses the illustration of being yoked with Him, harnessed together, to plow a field. Yardwork without power tools, strapped to a person that has infinite power. How are you going to compete with that? Faithful ministry is not what we do for God. Neither is it what we do with God. It is what we do when we are in God. Hidden. Engulfed. Abiding. I am not trying to keep up or pull my weight. I am trying to remain connected to Him, to know His will, His ways, and His timing. I am to be in unison with Him. His work includes me, but it is never up to me.
After thirty-four years, I still have my faith and my calling, albeit they look nothing like I thought they would. Resiliency is not the determination to tough it out or keep going. Resiliency is found in the humble dependence upon God and the certainty that you never really can be sure of anything, that you are a work in progress, and by God’s saving grace you will endure.
Rick Ackerman (Director of Convention Strategies for the Colorado Baptist General Convention)
