The twelve-year-old who first shared Christ with me more than thirty years ago presented the gospel this way: “It’s a good thing you lived through the night… because if you hadn’t, you’d be in hell right now.”  His approach seriously lacked tact, but truth he did not lack.  I was destined for hell apart from the gracious move of God in my life. 

Needless to say, you do not sleep well when you hear the gospel in that manner.  Every night, I tossed and turned, so frightened about not waking up that I could not easily close my eyes.  The fear of death was so strong that I began every morning thanking a God I did not know for allowing me to live another day.  That pattern continued for more than eight months before I became a follower of Christ at age 13.  Only then did I genuinely rest again, and never since then has death been a fear. 

Now, though, I am again not sleeping well.  I am tossing and turning like before, but my fear is not death.  No, my fear this time is life.  Dying does not scare me, but living does. 

I fear, for example, that I am happily living my dream — teaching at a seminary, preaching every week, leading conferences, traveling — without really seeing my neighbors living for dreams that amount to nothing eternal. How easily the temporary trumps the eternal in the busyness of life!   

I am afraid that my wife and I are so ingrained in our way of life that we would battle hard against God if He changed our plans.  What would we do if God required of us what He demanded of Abraham — to leave it all behind and seek His city (Gen. 12:1-3)? 

I am concerned that I am so busy living that I sometimes miss people who are hungry, hurting, homeless, and helpless.  I am simply disconnected from that part of the world.  Yet, the needs are still real, and Jesus’ expectation that we minister in that world remains (Matt. 25: 31-46). 

I am also afraid that I sometimes work more for my glory than for God’s.  I make no claim to be famous, but I would be lying to say that my ego is not stroked when I see my name on a book cover or a conference brochure.  After all, isn’t this the American dream, even for Christian leaders? 

Having no children, I fear that I will live my life “successfully,” but leave behind no next generation to carry on the work of the gospel.  I know that little matters if the mark I leave is as fleeting as life itself, but the time needed to invest heavily in others seems so limited. 

I read of 1.7 billion people who have little or no access to the gospel, and I worry that my North American lifestyle weakens my efforts to get the gospel to the ends of the earth. I am terrified that I can live too easily without grieving over thousands of unreached people groups around the world.

In fact, I fear that somewhere in the world is a non-believer seeking truth in the wrong place, a new believer longing for a mentor, or an entire congregation pleading with God to send them training — and I will be so busy doing other “good things” that I miss the opportunities.  The door is open, and I will have missed it. 

No, it is not death that scares me.  What scares me is coming to the end of life, looking back, and seeing little but wood, hay, and stubble to be burned in the fire (1 Cor. 3:10-15).  It’s living in such a way that I could not face my own mortality with the confidence of Paul: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Tim. 4:7). 

A dying world demands that we be willing to put our lives on the line to get the gospel to them.  We must follow Jesus with all of our being, always ready to do what He requires. That kind of radical obedience means changing the way we live at some level — and that’s often frightening.  I doubt I’ll sleep much tonight as I think on these things.

On a website designed to discuss missions, evangelism, and church growth, this blog might seem out of place.  Indeed, the title itself might seem odd to you.  Read the blog carefully, though, and I think it will make sense.   

Valentine’s Day is upon us — a day when we make the florists happy, fill the local restaurants, and keep Hallmark busy by remembering those that we love.  I am convinced that commercialism drives the holiday, but I (like many other busy spouses) sometimes need the reminder to slow down and honor my wife. 

Pam and I have been married for almost seventeen years.  As I think about those years, I am grateful for how much God has taught me through her.  What might seem like such basic lessons for some have sometimes been significant insights for me.  Below are listed some of the truths I’ve seen my wife model, listed in no particular order. 

Saying “thank you” is important.  Actually, writing “thank you” matters to my wife.  Never have I seen Pam miss an opportunity to say thanks when someone has blessed her with time or gifts.  In an age of email convenience, she still handwrites almost all of her thank you cards.  When I fail to do so, she gently but persistently encourages me to take time to express thanks in a personal way.  “It won’t take long to do it, and it will mean a lot to them,” she reminds me.  I pray that the young women Pam mentors will challenge their own husbands in the same way.    

Silence seldom settles anything.  Pam rightly recognizes that conflict resolution demands that the involved parties at least talk to each other.  When church members sometimes grew frustrated with me as their pastor, that frustration never stopped my wife from loving and talking to those members.  Though she realizes that she cannot make choices for others, angry silence and distance simply make no sense to her when Christians are involved.  

Authenticity matters - no matter who you are.  I suppose Pam would not fit everyone’s model of the wife of a pastor or seminary dean.  She chose to go to dental hygiene school rather than college.  We own a piano, but her expertise is limited to the first book for adult learners (as I recall, she was playing “When the Saints Go Marching In” many times  daily when she stopped taking lessons).  She is more comfortable teaching children than leading adults, and she would much rather serve quietly behind the scenes than minister in the spotlight. Yet, she is very comfortable living out God’s calling on her life.  She is exactly who she claims to be — without being impressed with or intimidated by those whose “credentials” may be stronger. 

Giving brings great joy.  No one I know is as giving as my wife.  If someone is in need, Pam is there.  I have seen her cook meals for grieving widows, wash clothes for a family whose home burned, transport friends to a doctor’s office, provide childcare so others might study, and spend hours ministering in a hospital waiting room — all without a single negative word.  At the same time, I have watched her sacrifice time and dollars to find just the right gift for someone.  She simply delights in sharing with others. 

Teaching children about missions can change a life.  As a lifelong Southern Baptist, Pam grew up learning about missions.  She was a member of Girls in Action and Acteens.  In fact, she was crowned as an Acteen queen (with tiara and scepter!).  Today, her missions heart is the product of church leaders who introduced her to a world that needs Christ and to missionaries who worked to meet that need.  Little did those faithful church members know that Pam would one day be married to the dean of school committed to the Great Commission. 

Preparation matters - no matter what you do.  Pam works in the AWANA program at our church.  She not only serves every Wednesday night in the general program, but she also teaches a self-designed monthly missions lesson for all the children.  As a professional procrastinator, I watch with envy as she prepares each lesson months ahead of time.  The lesson itself takes no more than twenty minutes, but she spends weeks in preparation.  Whatever Pam does, she prepares well and gives her best.           

Well, how does this blog relate to missions, evangelism, and church growth?  It’s actually quite simple.  In any healthy, growing church, the leader matters — and I, for one, am a better person and leader because God has graciously given me my wife. 

I pray that she would say the same about me as the spiritual leader in our home, for it is there that effective church leadership really begins.

A recent edition of Time magazine included a “happiness index of U.S. workers” that lists the happiest people according to their occupations.  Two of the three jobs with the highest “average happiness score” were clergy and firefighters [1]. This finding caught my attention because the first occupation I am called to do, and the second I have always wanted to do. 

God called me to preach when I was thirteen years old, and that direction was as clear to me as if God had spoken audibly to me.  Prior to that calling, I had planned to be a full-time English teacher and a volunteer fireman.  My father had been a fireman, and I have vivid memories of his responding to emergencies when the signal sounded.  On several Halloweens I dressed as a fireman.  In a somewhat odd scene, our family sometimes shared lunch at the scene of a “practice” fire when the fire department burned down dilapidated buildings. Even today, I am debating whether my schedule will allow me to be a volunteer firefighter in my community. 

The more I think about the Time magazine findings, the more I am not surprised that clergy and firefighters ranked so high in the happiness scores.  Both face matters of life and death, whether dealing with salvation from sin or a rescue from a fire.  A rescue from a fire pales when compared to eternal salvation, but both professions work to save lives. Clergy and firefighters alike serve professions that make a real difference.     

I do have a concern, though. I suspect that in many cases, firefighters are better at their jobs than most clergy are at fulfilling their callings.  Here are my reasons for thinking this way, listed in no particular order:

1. Firefighters better recognize the urgency of their role.  The signal sounds, the details are given, and the firefighter springs into action.  He must be focused on the task at hand, for a distracted firefighter is a dangerous one.  In fact, everything else stops until he returns from dealing with the emergency.  

I wish such were the case with clergy.  We have the life-giving message of Christ to proclaim to the world.  The signal has already sounded (Rom. 3:23, 6:23), and we know the details about the emergency — millions die every year, only to spend an eternity in hell. Why then do so many clergy seldom get outside of the church to tell a non-believer about Jesus?  Genuine growth of the church would increase dramatically if pastors would recognize the emergency, drop everything else, and do personal evangelism for a while.      

2. Firefighters better understand the value of teamwork.  From the truck driver to the pump operator to the Rapid Intervention Team (ready at any moment to rescue a brother firefighter), every firefighter is critical to the team.  More importantly, the other firefighters recognize that fact.  They are trained to watch each other’s back, seldom if ever facing a raging fire alone. The best firefighters, in fact, are those that are both trained and trusted like brothers. 

Clergy, on the other hand, tend to be lone rangers.  Not only are we not trained to be team players, but we often do not trust one another enough to work together.  Sometimes we are simply too arrogant to ask for help.  The danger is clear: clergy who work alone are the most liable to being shot down in the spiritual battle that ministry entails. 

3.  Firefighters are often better trained.  Firefighters are required to complete training that includes book knowledge and practical training.  Only when the potential firefighter gives evidence of his ability is he granted permission to be an official firefighter.  Even then, he is expected to complete recurrent practical education courses in order to stay current in his profession. Veteran firefighters walk alongside new firefighters, teaching them even as they together fight a fire. 

I am a seminary professor, but I do not pretend that we adequately train future ministers.  We can provide head knowledge, but we offer too little practical training. Indeed, we cannot offer the practical training needed apart from the support of the local church, where most praxis should occur under the care of a veteran pastor.  But, pastors are seemingly too busy, do not care enough, or do not know how to take on this task — and future generations of pastors will be weaker because of that fact. 

4.  Firefighters love what they do.  Firefighters love the exhilaration of tackling and defeating a fire.  Actually, they love the fire station, the fire trucks, the fire equipment, the firefighter uniform, their firefighting squad — almost everything associated with their task.  They risk their lives every time the signal sounds, but they do so because they believe in what they are doing.  They know that lives depend on them.   

Perhaps here is where I am most concerned about young clergy.  Young pastors recognize that the North American church is in need of much reformation.  We are reaching few non-believers, and our growth is being outpaced by the population.  Church members sometimes live so much like the world that non-believers see the church as irrelevant.  I fear, though, that many young pastors see the church in such a negative light that they would not list their profession high on the “happiness index.”  Many simply do not love the very people they are called to shepherd.

Consequently, they try to change a church they do not love — and then blame the church when the congregation does not follow their unloving leadership.  The pattern is repeated when the pastor who is wounded in one church carries his scars into the next one, makes the same mistakes again, and grows bitter against the church that Christ does love. 

Young pastor, learn to love God’s church.  Lives are depending on it — including yours.