Deconstructing the Clergy

I had a conversation with my wife last night that took me by surprise, although it's not the first time in our marriage we had talked about it. I don't think Elizabeth had ever even thought about being a minister's wife before we started dating, and it was a big issue we had to walk through before we were married. She was totally supportive of my calling to ministry and excited to be involved in it with me, but thoughts about people's expectations of ministers and their families were sobering for her (and probably should have been more sobering for me). With the launch of Church @ the Springs, the idea of being a "pastor's wife" brought those feelings back again, and it's been a topic of discussion around the house lately.

Truth be told, I never really wanted to be a pastor (as I saw the role). A friend who has known me for a long time and understands this about me recently told me that some of the best leaders were dragged into leadership reluctantly--I hope he's right, because I certainly was. I have no doubts that God led me into ministry, but I started out in student ministry because it was the only place in the church I thought I wouldn't be fired, and got involved in music only when the music landscape of the church started to change. For most of my ministry career I've steered clear of the "pastoral" positions. I was close enough to see those jobs behind the scenes as well as in front, and I wanted no part of them. I didn't dislike spiritual leadership, teaching, or caring for people. It was the "clergy" label and function of the pastors as a priestly class that bothered me most: the public persona, the pressure to present oneself and one's family as the epitome of Christian-ness, the expectation to function as a kind of civic personality--like a mayor with a seminary degree. I knew I couldn't stand up to that pressure. I didn't have the wardrobe. I wasn't enamored enough with wielding spiritual authority to be willing to put up with the junk that came with it. I once heard a pastor say that the way most churches function pushes the pastor to one extreme or the other: you become a doormat, constantly trying to fulfill the expectations of a group of people who themselves can't agree about what you should be doing; or you become a tyrant, holding enough power to render meaningless whatever decision-making process the church may have adopted. I've known both types of pastors and churches, and I'm wary of them. But I also know churches and pastors that are none of those things, and hope to emulate them and learn from them.

The role of clergy, as it has been broadly defined by our culture, attracts people to it for some really unhealthy reasons, as we've all become painfully aware over the years. Spiritual authority can be intoxicating, and the chemical reaction between it and an unhealthy need to control other people is usually violent and destructive. It's a well-known truth among pastors: "the pulpit is the best place in the church to hide." Who else has the pastor's opportunity to create a public persona that may or may not be the true self? Who else can promote accountability and personal transparency and deftly avoid them at the same time? And this is not just a matter of pastors manipulating innocent sheep. Parishioners and even church boards often want their pastors to be larger than life, to present an air of success or even wealth. Others expect their pastors to visit the sick, bury the dead, perform weddings, bless babies, baptize the converted, visit prospects, care for the hurting, counsel the troubled, manage the church's business, raise money, have a perfect life and family, and bring an A+ sermon every Sunday--in short, to be the whole church in one individual. No thanks! Many church members would be discouraged to discover that their pastor is just a human being like themselves. Surely he has some kind of special access to God; surely he is anointed, called, set apart...right?

In the New Testament church, there is little doubt that the Apostles were looked upon with a sense of awe. They were eye-witnesses to Jesus' life, death, and resurrection, and had been personally charged by Jesus with the task of making disciples throughout the world. The Holy Spirit had come upon them and empowered their lives in dramatic ways. Nonetheless, they weren't usually viewed as a priestly class, and they certainly did not view themselves as such; they were still "of the people," like Jesus himself had been. In fact, the existing priestly class seemed always to be surprised that these very un-priestly people had such spiritual impact. They had no formal religious training; they had merely lived with Jesus for three years. In fact, Peter himself refers to all Christians as a priesthood in 1 Peter 2:9 (how ironic that Peter, the purported first Pope, would have been the one to pen those words).

I believe God equips and calls people to spiritual leadership. I believe effective, godly leadership is vital and necessary for the church to accomplish her God-given mission. I believe that leaders are and should be held to a high standard in character and spiritual life. And I believe in the authority of the church's leaders. Jesus did not establish the church as a democracy, and he clearly expects the people of the church to follow the leaders he has equipped and called. But I do not hold Christian leaders on a pedestal above any other gifted men and women. Romans 12 and Ephesians 4 list leadership among other gifts without an asterisk, and in both texts urge unity among people with various gifts. Being a pastor is special, but so is being a helper, a teacher, a generous giver, a servant, a caregiver, and an encourager. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 12:24 that God has given special honor to the parts of the body that lacked it; since this is true, let's start putting servants in the spotlight and claiming that they have received a special revelation from God. Since what they do is more exceptional than what many of us pastors do, I'm inclined to believe they've heard God in a way the rest of us have not (more on this in a later post).

I think it's time to deconstruct the clergy and just be the people of God instead of the clergy and laity. Where is that in the New Testament? Our community is blessed with some great pastors and church leaders, many of whom I am privileged to call friends. While some may be comfortable with the clergy distinction, most pastors I know dislike being treated so differently most of the time. The "holy man" thing is a lonely life. Don't put that on your pastor or his family. And if the whole church accepts God's calling and mission instead of a few "professionals," the church and the community will be a whole lot better off.

So here I am, just a guy who's pastoring a little church in League City. There is no aura around me when I walk down the street, unless I haven't taken a bath. I hope I hear from God every time I make a decision about church leadership and every time I teach...but I don't have a red phone on my desk dialed into God, and neither do any other pastors I know. We often learn a great deal about Christian living from people without seminary training. I don't wear business suits or clergy collars; don't speak with a Billy Graham accent, on or off the platform; don't have an office, and you won't have a conversation with me while you stare at my credentials on the wall behind my head; you don't have to hide your beer if you see me on the golf course, and I might just have one of those cigars (only the good ones) if the weather has finally turned cold in Houston. I drive a Jeep with big tires, no carpet and holes in the floor so the water will drain out. My kids go to public schools. My wife is fun, and is in fact the best pastor's wife I've ever seen because she's not a 'pastor's wife.' She's a full participant in ministry with me, but she's not running the church behind the scenes. You won't see our family photo on any billboards inviting you to come to church with us--there are a number of other families at the Springs that I would love for you to get to know. I am 'father' to no one, but 'dad' to 2 boys. Neither am I 'reverend.' I'm 'pastor' or 'brother' only if I can call you 'brother' before I say your name--and I'd rather not. I'm just Cameron, and my wife is just Elizabeth, and we count it a privilege to be called to this role in the kingdom of God.