I Don't Want to be a Preacher

[deacon blues]

I DON'T WANT TO BE A PREACHER

That's what I told God. I was 26 years old, I'd been a preacher for five years. I had been a youth pastor for four years and then I went to Atlanta to assist my brother-in-law. It had been a year since I moved from OH to GA. It was a tough year. It had been a grueling year. I had gone through some of the biggest challenges of my life. I felt trapped and directionless. I wanted out. I didn't want to be a preacher anymore.

And so at a youth camp where I was a counselor, at the end of a service, after praying with various young people, I drifted over to a corner and had a conversation with God. "I love you, I appreciate all you've done for me, I will still serve you all the days of my life. But I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want be a preacher. I'll be a good church member. I'll teach Sunday School. I'll be a blessing to a pastor. But this being a minister as a career? I'm done."

I gave God my resignation. I wasn't cut out for the job. I gave it a good try. I wanted out.

I had finished my prayer. I was about to get up off of my knees. But before I could stand up there was a tap on my shoulder. It was the huge, affable, redneck, country bumpkin preacher I had met earlier in the week. He was deferential. "Hey, uh, Brother Mark, uh, I don't usually do this kind of thing but I was praying over on the other side of the building and I looked over and saw you. And when I did I felt like God told me to come over here and tell you that you're supposed to be a preacher."

Well, that ended my grand exit. It was a pretty convincing "I hear what you're saying, but I'm not accepting your resignation" from God. It was a pivotal moment for me.

I have retreated in my mind many times to that day in my life. There have been frustrating times in my career where the idea of walking away from being a pastor was a pleasant thought. But then I'm reminded of that message loud and clear, "you're supposed to be a preacher."

And really I don't know why. There are a lot, A LOT of guys more talented, more disciplined, more together, better leaders, better speakers, better managers than me. I don't know why I'm supposed to be a preacher. I see guys who love ministry, love being a preacher, pastor, leader. They swim in it. They relish it. They can't get enough of it. Not me.

Don't get me wrong. I love people. I love helping folks and serving folks. I love teaching something or preaching something that connects with those in the audience, something useful, encouraging, inspirational or transforming. I love the relationships I have with those I lead. I love speaking at weddings because of all of the unbelievers there. I love eulogies at funerals for the same reason. I love the Gospel and how it changes lives. I love personal Bible studies and small groups. There's a lot I love about my job and my calling.

But I'm tired. I'm weary. My family has paid a price because of the neglect they've suffered at my hands. Mostly my wife. I've been there everyone but her many times. She tried to tell me, to communicate it to me, but I didn't get it. Now she's distant and unresponsive. She checked out a few years back...

I'm weary of petty church folks who have their agendas, their axes to grind, their silly criticisms for silly reasons, their hurt feelings for one thing or another. I'm tired of folks that are always wanting to be served but are rarely willing to serve. Always expecting to receive and rarely willing to give. I'm fed up with leaders in the church that see their positions as opportunities to self promote and grandstand and show off and perform. But when you ask for a little consistency or commitment from them they bristle because their lives are so hectic.

I pastor a lot of wonderful Christian folks. A precious 93-year-old lady who never forgets my wife or children on their birthdays. There's always a card with money, kind words and sometimes pear preserves or a pie...

There's the woman whose life was ripped way from her when her husband died. Her daughters won't have anything to do with her because of the horrible life they lived with her long before she was a believer. The men in her life abused her and her girls. They were both victims. They were sinners. It was horrific. But Jesus wasn't in the picture. Later she met Bruce, a prince of a man. The only man who really loved her and they had 20 beautiful years together. Five years before Bruce died she became a believer. Bruce followed six months before pulmonary fibrosis killed him. She's alone but she treat me like a son. She adores me and my family.

There's the family that recently joined the church. The wife came first. Lifelong Catholic, she was drinking a lot, thinking about divorcing her chronically depressed out of work husband. She started having Bible studies with a member of our church. Then she started to attend services and other activities. One day last August she repented of her sins to Jesus and made Him her Lord and she testified later that her life began to change from that very day. Her husband and sons started to attend. They rarely miss a service.

There's the couple that almost divorced last year and with of prayer and counsel and patience God helped them hold it together and theybare doing better now than ever.

There's the family that gives and gives and gives and never complains. In fact our church is filled with families and couples and individuals that are like that. Really our church is filled with wonderful, kind, thoughtful, faithful followers of Christ.

And they help keep me going. I feel a sense of duty, an obligation, a debt I owe these quiet and consistent members of the church I pastor.

And then there are the people in the community. The woman who needed two nights out of the cold in a local Red Roof Inn. We gave her food from our food pantry, bought her two-year-old little girl some diapers. The man we allowed to live in our church for a year until he could better his circumstances. The barista whose husband was in the hospital for three weeks and almost died. He was on our prayer list, we visited him in the hospital. He's making a recovery. There's dozens of others I would miss if I left this place.

My kids are great. My son is in the Air Force, he got engaged to get married over Christmas and will get married this year. My daughter is in middle school and brought home a fairly good report card today. She's happy go lucky and loves life. My baby boy is in second grade and is a walking comedian. He has us laughing all the time.

I find myself cruising the Internet for career change ideas. Maybe go back to school, get another degree. A guy in our church with a GED decided to become a bond broker and within three years was pulling down $125,000 a year. It's a tempting thought...

I still don't want to be a preacher. But I know I'm supposed to do this. Just every once in a while I feel a little burned out. And then I go through this same thought process. And I am reminded of that night at the GA youth camp.

Ultimately I just want to follow Christ. I want to do His will. I daily pray for my wife. God has given me peace that she will come out of the place she's in. Sometimes I see glimpses of hope in her. It will take time. I've changed. I'm changing. I believe eventually I will change to such a degree that she will see the change and she will change as a result. I just want to see her happy and joyful again. It's coming. It'll happen in time.

Even then I'm sure I still won't want to be a preacher.