What is a Pastor?

The pastoral vocation is in deep crisis. A deep, deep crisis.

There are no doubts about this for anyone paying attention. Patterns of sexual abuse and narcissism and issues of physical and emotional health are painfully common.

Because I’ve been in this work for 15 years and because I have served in a lead pastor role for nearly the last 4, I’ve been giving lots and lots of thought to the basic question, “What is a pastor?”

For now, I’m proposing the four-part model above. I’ll explain these components, in no particular order.

1. Tools, training, ministerial skills, etc.

We engage in formal training for this piece of pastoral preparation. It is only a piece, however. Strangely, some believe that the M.Div makes the pastor. It does not. This actually seems laughable to me now that I’m doing the work.

However, formal training is absolutely essential. At least, this is my very strong opinion. Formal training enhances ministry, it clarifies gifts, and it can provide a foundation for future fruitfulness. I’m an enormous advocate of formal training, especially at Beeson Divinity School.

Seminary training, or its equivalent, gives a set of tools, it cultivates the skill of thinking theologically, it gives the lay-of-the-land with regard to important debates, it helps the student see the contours of an issue so that the student learns to ask the right questions. Formal training invites a student into the conversation, the Great Conversation of the Great Tradition that has occurred for over 2,000 years.

But, seminary training’s ability to make a pastor is tremendously limited. One hears often, in a tone of frustration, “Well, seminary didn’t teach me this.”

But, that’s okay.

Seminary isn’t supposed to teach you that.

Formal training is essential, but it is limited. Something more is necessary.

A pastor is also more than a person who is “good” at certain ministerial skills. A pastor must be something more than someone who is good at preaching and who wants to be in front of people. Being good at preaching, and having a holy desire to lead, is very helpful. But a pastor is more than a person possessing at certain skill set.

There must be something more.

2. A deep, “pained” love for people.

In Galatians 4, the Apostle Paul says that it was like he was in the pains of childbirth. That is how bad he wanted to see Jesus formed in the Galatians (Galatians 4:19). He loved them and wanted them to know Jesus with such intensity that it physically hurt.

Though I have never been in the agony childbirth, I have seen the task up close and quite personal. This makes Paul’s image ring with power in my heart.

Until the would-be pastor experiences a deep pain, a deep inexplicable longing for something more for particular people, I’m inclined to think that we are not quite dealing with a pastor yet.

3. Calling: External and Internal.

I believe that an internal calling is essential. I believe it provides a unique fuel for the soul in the hardships of pastoral work. I also believe that an internal call has to travel with an external one. An external call, from an identifiable church community, inviting you to the work is equally essential.

In my opinion, until someone besides you has asked you, commissioned you, called you, or affirmed your sense of calling, you might not be a pastor.

Normally, these two kinds of callings work together in a beautiful way.

Maybe it is like this. Someone feels an urge for the work. That gnawing desire is expressed to church leaders and it is met with investment and encouragement (and a lot of redirection if necessary). It is affirmed over time. These external promptings fan into leaping flames the internal fire that burns inside.

(Something like this is the logic behind ordination, for what it is worth.)

Or, quite often, existing church leaders observe something in someone. Things that they cannot see alone. They begin to push and develop and encourage. Eventually, these external calls are yielded to, even reluctantly. From that point, the internal urges begin to follow suit.

In my experience, this is how calling works. There is an obvious implication here: seasons of waiting will be an essential piece of preparation for pastoral work.

4. Life with God, attentiveness to God, humility, posture, character, etc.

Unfortunately, it is not obvious, so I’ll say it. A pastor is a person who lives a life before God’s presence. A pastor is a person who seeks to cultivate, with thoughtfulness, the soil of the heart, that fruits of the Spirit might grow. A pastor is a person who is seeking to decrease that Christ might increase. A pastor is a person who endures spiritual embattlement with faith in Jesus, instead of fear (or, is trying to do this).

A pastor is a person who is gentle with people, even when telling them hard things. A pastor is a person whose personal godliness becomes the basis of all of the other ministry activities.

A pastor is a person growing in love for God and God’s word and who takes those loves and brings them into conversation with a deep love for God’s people.

As others have pointed out, the work of the pastor is a habitus— “ingrained skills, habits, and dispositions.” It is a way of living and being in the world that is a combination of character, skill, and attentiveness.

It is worth noting, as an aside, that this kind of life, posture, and character is mostly cultivated through suffering, trial, and trouble. Endurance, therefore, becomes an essential pastoral task.

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There are other helpful models for how to think about the person of the pastor and the work of the pastor. I’m indebted to many folks who have gone before.

But, these are the things rattling around in my mind, that I share for your consideration. I would love to interact with you around these ideas, and if you are an aspiring pastor, I would love to invite you into a conversation about “how you are coming along” with regard to these things.

Take-Out Containers, Paul, and Finding Freedom in Pastoral Work

Mandy loves to cook for people. She understands that that support and encouragement flow from her kitchen, by the vehicle of food, into people’s bellies. Whenever someone in our church gives birth, whenever a friend is in a busy time, she loves to bring meals.

She has special containers for these provisions. At the bottom of our pantry, in a particular drawer, the take-a-meal-containers find their abode.

They are old takeout containers, saved for this purpose. She uses these particular ones because, “ I don’t want them to worry about getting them back to me. They can enjoy it and forget about it.” You know, the forget-about-it dishes. 

You must understand that their dispensability is a key feature of their effectiveness. They only have one, simple job: be the means to get the food to the person. We are talking simple point A, to point B, stuff. If the containers serve in this way, they have done their noble duty. Nothing more is necessary. They bear no pressure of being anything other than what they are: a vessel of transport. They can be just that.

Turns out, this is how you should think about your pastor. And if you are a pastor, especially a young one, this is a liberating way to think of yourself, too.

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“…we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”

- 2 Corinthians 4:7

In 2 Corinthians 4:7, Paul writes about his pastoral ministry. He tells the church at Corinth that, “…we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”

In the world of the New Testament, these “jars of clay” were common household food containers. They were for plain use. They would often chip or break, and they could be replaced easily. They were the ancient world’s takeout containers. Plain and simple. 

Paul wanted the Corinthians to think of his ministry in these terms. He knew that he wasn’t particularly impressive or clever. Rather, he was fragile and ordinary. Further, the apostle understood this has a holy task: to be a common vessel to carry the hope of Jesus to the hearts and souls of the people in the Greco-Roman world.

In this text, Paul is rejoicing in his dispensability—the Lord could have chosen anybody for this work. He knew he didn’t have to be amazing. Instead, he was free to be a common container. He was safe in this work, even in fragility and brokenness (as he goes on to say in 2 Corinthians 4). Paul understood that the Lord ordained to carry the gospel forward in this manner and that this method would demonstrate the power of God in a unique way. (Lest folks be tempted to be impressed with Paul).

You get the sense that he learned to glory in God’s gospel delivery strategy and his unassuming role as a means to God’s great ends.

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If you are not a pastor, this, of course, does not mean that your pastor should be tossed out, forgotten about, purposely trashed, under-appreciated, or not shown honor. 

It does mean, however, that your hope should not be in your pastor, but instead in Jesus, the one your pastor proclaims and presents to you. It implies that your expectations should be realistic because your pastor is a plain old vessel called to deliver nourishing things for your soul.

If you are a pastor, especially if you are a young pastor like me, there will come a day when you feel radically freed by this vision of pastoral work.

You are invited to be ordinary. If your gifts are meager, that is okay. (Maybe even better?). Your approach to your work can be non-flashy. Truly, it can, and it should be. Things do not have to be so dramatically sensational.

You can work hard, diligently, faithfully, week after week. You are free to pursue things with passion and clarity and excellence precisely because “the surpassing power belongs to God and not [you.]”

Weights fell off of me when I first realized that I can be God’s free man, liberated from the pressure to be spectacular. They fall off afresh when I realize this again and again. Get this: I can simply deliver the foods as best I can—prepared in the kitchen of word, table, prayer—to the people that I love, and that love me back, in the common container that is Joel Busby.

Grace Fellowship can eat heartily and drink deeply of the true food and true drink that is Jesus. These souls can savor Christ. 

They can love and appreciate me, but kinda forget me. In a good way, you know?