I spent part of last Saturday morning listening to a man from Good Shepherd deliver a creative and engaging devotion to our BigHouse students and their guests from the Children's Attention Home in Rock Hill.

As he began, I had a twinge of guilt. Should I be the one giving the devotion? After all, I'm paid and he's volunteering? Wouldn't I be a better leader if I was up there and he was sitting down?

But then the answered thundered in my mind: NO.

Because if I'm doing pastoral ministry correctly, then . . .

It's less my job to teach than it is to release the teacher in others.

It's less my job to lead than it is to unleash the leader in others.

It's less my job to heal than it is to empower the healer in others.

It's less my job to preach than it is to equip the preacher in others.

It's less my job to pray than it is to encourage the pray-er in others.

And it's less my job to "play God" than it is to trust the God in others.

Pastoral ministry goes better when you are in love with Jesus than when you aren't.

I know this to be the case because I've tried it both ways.

On occasion, I give phone calls to people I haven't seen around church in awhile.

My responses to their reponses have me a bit conflicted.

If they respond to my "hey, I've missed seeing you and want to make sure everything is OK"

with

"oh, sorry, I've just gotten out of the routine of coming but I'm hoping to get back soon"

then I respond (internally of course) with "Hallelujah! They haven't found someone else younger and better looking!"

Because my great fear in that phone call is that they will say, "Oh, I've started going to __________"-- someplace younger, hipper, cooler -- or even "No, I'm thinking of joining _______________" -- someplace more sedate and comfortable.

So I'm conflicted because I'd rather have people not going to church at all(temporarily) than going to another church. Because if they're not going anywhere, they'll probably come back here.

I think most pastors, if honest, would share this preference.

In all those motivations and all that internal conversation, I overlook something quite critical: the people belong to God and not to me; they are members of the Kingdom and not of Good Shepherd.

My prayer is that I will soon be able to have Paul's attitude rather than my own. In the face of church "competition" from leaders with different styles than his own, he remembered that "the important thing . . . [is that] Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice."

Amen.

Yesterday we concluded the sermon with one sentence testimonies by seven different people from the Good Shepherd community, each of whom is in the process of being "delivered" from the Pharaoh that has plagued their lives.

But that wasn't the best part.

The best part was when each of those who had given their testimonies came down from our platform to pray with people who themselves wanted to be delivered from a Pharaoh in their lives.

People streamed forward at all three services to be touched and prayed for by those who had courageously shared part of their story.

(By the way, this whole idea was the brainstorm of Chris Macedo who knew better than I did how this particular sermon needed to end.)

So in the best sense, the Body of Christ ministered to the Body of Christ.

The people of the church didn't need a special prayer from the preacher. They didn't need a touch from a celebrity pray-er. They didn't even need the encouragement from other church staff.

They needed to receive ministry from one another.

Sounds sort of biblical, doesn't it? I'm glad to be learning that lesson anew every day.