Dan Olinger

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Remembering | Part 3: Respecting | Part 4: Hearing | Part 5: Obeying | Part 6: Rewarding

We’ve looked at several New Testament passages that speak directly of leaders in the church, and how the members of the church should behave toward them. I think there’s material there for all of us to attend to.

I’d like to close the series by going to a passage that doesn’t mention pastors at all, but that points us to a significant step we can take for the days ahead.

³⁵ Jesus was going through all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every kind of disease and every kind of sickness. ³⁶ Seeing the people, He felt compassion for them, because they were distressed and dispirited like sheep without a shepherd. ³⁷ Then He said to His disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. ³⁸ Therefore beseech the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into His harvest” (Mt 9.35-38; see also Lk 10.2).

As was typical for him, Jesus was ministering to the crowds that constantly accompanied him, seeing and addressing their needs, both physical and spiritual. He was ministering. Pastoring.

Why?

Well, he tells us elsewhere that ministering is his mission (Mt 20.28; Mk 10.45), but this passage gives us a more proximate reason—he was moved with compassion for the needs of the people who surrounded him.

This was something that happened often as Jesus walked among us (Mt 14.14; 15.32; 20.34). It’s part of who he is (Ex 34.5-6). And in that moment of agitation, he used the situation as a teaching moment for his disciples.

There are so many, he said. We need more workers, people to care, to minister, to shepherd. Pray for more.

Note the motivation. We need more pastors, not so the theological schools will have more business, or because really godly people become “full-time Christian workers,” or because other work isn’t important, or because you should feel guilty if you don’t.

We should care because the Son of God, walking among us, had his stomach tied up in knots because of the sight of countless images of God who were in perilous need. And he felt this way not because he was helpless to do anything about it, but simply because he cared. It mattered a lot to him.

It should matter a lot to us. It should matter that every community is filled with people in the image of God who are far from him, adrift in a cesspool of existentialism, unable to understand why a universe with them at the center simply doesn’t work and doesn’t satisfy; people who know him but not well enough to function, because they don’t know his Word and don’t know how to learn it; people who are walking through the valley of the shadow of death and need someone to just sit with them and comfort them; people whose marriages aren’t working and they don’t know how to fix them; people who could face the trials of life if they just had a body of believers to provide fellowship and exhortation and encouragement.

We should be moved—the Greek word means essentially to be punched in the gut—by the needs all around us, and, desperate for help, we should pray that God would send forth more laborers into his harvest.

Pray. The word Jesus uses is “beseech”—beg, or plead. It what the leper did when he fell on his face before Jesus and said, “Lord if you are willing, you can make me clean” (Lk 5.12). It’s what the father did when he shouted from the crowd, “Rabbi, I beg you to look at my son, for he is my only boy” (Lk 9.38). The son, by the way, was demon possessed.

How desperate was that father? How desperate was that outcast leper?

Pray. Pray for more pastors like yours. Thousands of them, until there are so many that there are some with nothing at all to do.

When we honor our undershepherd, we honor the Great Shepherd. And by doing that, we strengthen the church and our own connection to that Great Shepherd.

Win. Win.

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Remembering | Part 3: Respecting | Part 4: Hearing | Part 5: Obeying

The fifth biblical command for us in caring for our pastor leads me, as they say, to go from preachin’ to meddlin’.

The elders who rule well are to be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who work hard at preaching and teaching (1Ti 5.17).

The word translated “honor” here is translated with the sense of “honor” in 30 of its 44 appearances in the New Testament. The other 4 nuances are “compensation” (5x), “price” (5), “value” in the sense of quality (3), and (economic) “value” (1). The verb form is usually translated in the sense of “respect” (17/21), but it also speaks of placing a price on something (Mt 27.9, quoting Zec 11.13).

Anybody see a trend here?

It speaks of honoring someone specifically because you see him as of significant value. And one of the most common ways society does that is by paying him well.

So.

Pay the preacher.

Paul speaks of this concept more explicitly in Corinthians 9, where he’s discussing his ministry in the church at Corinth. He notes that he’s ministered among them at no charge—in fact, supporting himself by making tents (Ac 18.1-4)—even though he has a right, as a minister, to expect them to pay his expenses (1Co 9.4-6). He argues from social custom; soldiers, farmers, and shepherds all have their needs met by their work (1Co 9.7). Even the Law of Moses commands that the ox not be prevented from eating some of the grain that his labor is grinding (1Co 9.8-9)—and, he notes, the Law is not primarily about oxen; this command is intended to teach us something about how God cares for his creatures, and how we consequently should care for those who labor for our benefit (1Co 9.10-12). He observes further that under the Mosaic system the priests were paid for their work (1Co 9.13). Consequently, he deduces, “The Lord directed those who proclaim the gospel to get their living from the gospel” (1Co 9.14).

Pay the preacher.

Back in our original passage, Paul notes that the pastor “work[s] hard at preaching and teaching.” The verb here is usually translated with the sense of “toil” (21/25x) and occasionally with the sense of “tire.” It’s the verb used to describe Jesus’ exhaustion on the long, hot walk from Jerusalem through Samaria toward home, when at midday he collapsed onto a seat by a well and, so tired that he couldn’t draw water for himself, he asked the Samaritan woman to give him a drink (Jn 4.6).

Pastoring is hard work. There’s the part you see, or at least see the results of on Sunday—the sermon preparation, including study, research, meditation, mental analysis; the really hard work of capturing everything the day’s passage says in a single, easily understood sentence; the mental labor of coming up with analogies, comparisons, that capture the difficult ideas involved—often when there is nothing that is really analogous (we’re talking about God, after all); evaluating the specific needs of the congregation to determine how precisely they can best apply these principles; and doing it all in a way that they will find attractive and encouraging rather than demeaning or disheartening.

And then there are the countless things you don’t see:

• the private counseling of weak, or discouraged, or angry and uncooperative people, where his mind is confronted with the worst of human behavior, and where he carefully lays out a biblical path and the counselee simply ignores what he says, to his own destruction;
• the calls in the middle of the night to minister by presence with those facing unimaginable grief, with the knowledge that there is nothing just or fair about what they are experiencing;
• the concern for the sheep that plays as perpetual background to every moment of his waking hours, and some of the sleeping ones as well;
• the ongoing, perpetual weariness.

Imagine that this is your life.

And now imagine the relief that would come if you didn’t have to wonder how you were going to afford 4 new tires this week, or a new water heater, or a plane ticket to visit your mother in a nursing home—if those things were simply taken care of by the people you lie awake thinking about.

Pay the preacher.

Part 7: Praying for More

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Remembering | Part 3: Respecting | Part 4: Hearing

We began this series in Hebrews 13, and we return there for this next step. Hebrews 13.17 reads,

Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they keep watch over your souls as those who will give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with grief, for this would be unprofitable for you.

I didn’t start off with this one, because I think there are necessary prerequisites to this step. We needed first to think about how we value our pastor and the work he does. Now it’s time for the difficult part.

The writer says we’re to “obey” and to “submit to” our pastors. Before I deal with that, I want to talk about the rest of the verse, because it lays out reasons to do this hard thing, and all of us benefit from knowing the reasons why we’re asked to do a hard thing.

He says that one day our pastors will give an account (to God, obviously, as we all will [2Co 5.10]), and specifically for how they have “kept watch over our souls.”

That’s a tough job. Souls are complicated—and broken by sin, at that—and they’re invisible, which makes them harder to work on than, say, an automobile engine. Diagnosing a problem is difficult enough, but fixing it, when you can’t take a soul apart, replace the defective part, and put it back together again, is unimaginably difficult. Add to that the fact that with souls, you can’t impose a solution, even if you’re demonstrably right; in the end, you have to depend on the individual—who, as we’ve noted, is already broken—to implement the solution to his own problem.

While the job is difficult, it’s not impossible, for God provides solutions in his Word, through his Spirit, and his power to convict and illuminate and empower is never limited. It’s remarkable that even as he holds the pastor accountable for his “keeping watch,” he promises to supply all that is needed for the successful “repair” of the soul. The pastor’s job is not to fix things, but to “keep watch”—to pay attention, to notice when there’s a problem, and to handle the Scripture accurately and appropriately in pointing the “patient” to the cure.

We help our pastors with that job by obeying them and submitting to them. As I’ve noted before, the Scripture doesn’t call for blind obedience to any man; like the Bereans (Ac 17.11), we test what our leaders say against the touchstone of the Scripture. But having done that, when they’re right, we’re told here to submit. This is the idea of surrendering to a superior power.

Back in college, I studied judo. The sport comprises 5 subdisciplines; I studied 3 of them, one of which was shimewaza, or choking. It involves, not cutting off the windpipe (that takes too long), but cutting off the blood supply to the brain, which can render the opponent unconscious in just a few seconds. As you can imagine, that’s a very dangerous technique, and we were taught to take it seriously. In a match, you surrender by tapping out—which you can’t do if you’re unconscious. Our sensei told us very sternly that if we felt the technique applied correctly, we had just seconds to tap out and avoid death. Don’t be a hero, he said. When he’s got you, surrender.

When your pastor is speaking biblical truth, and you know he’s got you, you’d be a fool to try to outlast him—not because he’s such a tough guy, but because if you’re dealing with the Scripture, you’re dealing with God himself, and as the founder of my school said, “Your arm’s too short to box with God.” When he’s got you, surrender.

This passage ends with good news. In the martial arts, nobody likes to surrender; Asian cultures place great importance on not losing face. But in this case, surrender is delightful; all kinds of good ensues from it. The pastor’s faithful work is successful; that encouragement empowers him for the next round; the entire body, the church, is more healthy; and you are set up for more success down the road. To paraphrase our passage, obeying your pastor turns out to be profitable for you.

How about that. The way down is the way up.

Part 6: Rewarding | Part 7: Praying for More

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Remembering | Part 3: Respecting

Earlier in the same epistle that tells us to respect our pastor, Paul writes,

For this reason we also constantly thank God that when you received the word of God which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men, but for what it really is, the word of God, which also performs its work in you who believe (1Th 2.13).

It’s worth noting, in the interest of precise hermeneutics, that this is not a command; it’s a description of a historical practice. But since Paul is clearly commending it, we as readers ought to take it as exemplary. Scholars would say that it’s “an indicative with imperative force.”

We ought to listen to what the pastor brings us from the Word, and we ought to hear it. We ought to recognize it as biblical truth, and because it is, we ought to receive it, accept it, and we ought to open ourselves up to let it do its work in us by the power of the Spirit.

Let me throw a little personal word in here. As a teacher, I face groups of “hearers” pretty much every workday. Every experienced speaker learns to read his audience—to recognize and respond to visual feedback. Every time I speak, I find my eyes moving from face to face and quickly identifying those who are telling me something by their expressions—eye contact, nodding, raising an eyebrow, all kinds of expressions. In every session I find myself going back to the half-dozen or so faces that are telling me things, ensuring that my message is getting across, that I’m not missing something. In that moment those people are my greatest asset.

When your pastor is speaking, talk back to him with your face. Look up from your phone, and look him in the eye. Sure, he won’t stare at you every minute, but his eyes will come back to you repeatedly. Let him know if you understand, or agree, or wonder what on earth he’s talking about. Communicate with him. He’ll be grateful.

And when you are informed, challenged, moved by what he says, show him that. Show him that he’s making a connection, a difference.

Another thought.

Pastors aren’t apostles. Their preaching isn’t inerrant, and it’s not authoritative. Think about what your pastor says; compare it with Scripture, as the Bereans did (Ac 17.11). If it doesn’t seem right, talk to him about it. Maybe you’re wrong; maybe he is; maybe you both are. But he’ll be invigorated by genuine, humble conversation.

This is thinking, not blind obedience. Thinking students make good teachers happy.

Some years ago my family and I were driving from Dallas to El Paso. West Texas is pretty boring, even with Van Horn out there in the middle. All was quiet, and to break the boredom, I said to my older daughter, who was about 6, I guess, “Well, how do you like the prairie? Does it remind you of Little House on the Prairie?”

She thought for a moment and asked, “Dad, was Little House in the Prairie in Texas?”

“I don’t think so, babe,” I said. “Maybe Kansas.”

“Well, it couldn’t have been in Kansas.”

I thought she sounded pretty sure of herself for a 6-year-old. “Why, babe?”

“Because it’s in color.”

That, my friends, is what Bloom’s taxonomy calls “synthesis”—taking unrelated pieces of information and putting them together in a new way. From Little House in the Prairie—the TV show—she knew it was in color, and from The Wizard of Oz—the movie—she knew that Kansas was in black and white. Ergo, QED.

In this case, her conclusion was factually correct, and her logic was completely valid. Those don’t necessarily coincide. Syllogisms will do that to you.

Boy, was I delighted that she was thinking. So delighted, in fact, that I almost drove right off the road.

Which, in West Texas, would have made no difference at all.

What do you think it does to the heart of your pastor, your teaching elder, when he sees you hearing, and thinking, and drawing conclusions? How do you think it affects his motivation when he knows that you’ll do that?

Do that.

Part 5: Obeying | Part 6: Rewarding | Part 7: Praying for More

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Remembering

In one of Paul’s earliest epistles the Bible gives us a second way to care for our pastor:

¹² But we request of you, brethren, that you appreciate those who diligently labor among you, and have charge over you in the Lord and give you instruction, ¹³ and that you esteem them very highly in love because of their work. Live in peace with one another (1Th 5.12-13).

Paul identifies the object of his readers’ action as doing three things:

• Diligently laboring among them;
• Having authority over them (literally, “standing before” them) in the Lord;
• Giving them instruction , or “admonishing” them.

With these descriptions he’s clearly referring to their pastors.

And how are his readers supposed to respond to this leadership?

• Appreciate them (literally, “know” or “recognize” them);
• Esteem or respect them;
• Live in peace with one another.

So we have three actions we’re to take.

I’d suggest that the first one is pretty much the same idea covered in the previous post—we’re to call these leaders to mind, to acknowledge that they should have our attention and care.

As the title of this post indicates, I think the meat of Paul’s admonition is in the second imperative: we’re to esteem them, respect them, hold them in high regard. The verb comes from a root meaning “to lead”; it’s to acknowledge the fact that the one being respected is indeed worthy of honor because he’s in a position of leadership.

And so I need to deal with a couple of issues here. The first is cultural. Most of my readers are Americans, and as we all know, we don’t have nobility in this country, and we don’t bow even to our president, because he works for us. We fought a war to get rid of a king, and we’ll do it again anytime we need to, bubba.

All true.

Americans are uncomfortable with a caste system, a sense of social distinctions. But for some Americans—and other people all around the world—that can lead to a rejection of all authority whatsoever, and that’s a profoundly unbiblical view.

I’ll observe that the strongest adherents of such a view don’t really live as they profess. Here in America, we have our nobility; they’re just not kings. They’re performance artists, athletes, and other cultural icons. Some of them we esteem for worthwhile reasons; there’s no doubt that Michael Jordan was a talented basketball player, and he got that way by hard work and discipline, which are commendable qualities. There’s no doubt that Dustin Hoffman is a talented actor, and he too got that way by exercising commendable qualities. Some cultural heroes, I wonder what they’ve ever done to deserve the kind of ludicrous adulation our society bathes them in. And here, out of politeness, I’m not going to give specific examples.

But the examples I’ve given, though commendable, in the end are primarily entertainers—they perform a cultural service, and a significant one, but there are many other contributors to our society who are at least as worthy of appreciation, if not moreso.

And in the biblical worldview, eternal consequences far outweigh passing, temporal ones. Those who tend to our spiritual health should be at the top of the list for esteem.

The second issue comes from the text of the passage itself. We’ve all at least heard of pastors who seem not to be measuring up to Paul’s description. What about them?

Well, every pastor is imperfect—as is every congregant—and some are further from the standard than others. If a man is unqualified (1Ti 3.2-7; Ti 1.5-9), then he ought to be sent on his way.

But if he’s doing the job, however imperfectly, the effectiveness he’s having should be recognized and respected. We ought to esteem him because of his work.

There are lots of ways we can show our respect; use your imagination on that score. But Paul mentions one in particular: Live in peace with one another.

As my list above indicates, I don’t think that closing sentence is just tacked on; I think in Paul’s mind it follows naturally from what he’s just said.

Get along, ya boneheads. :-)

When the pastor doesn’t have to spend his time herding cats, he’ll have more time to devote to his other duties. And who knows, you might be helping him do a better job, which benefits you and everybody else.

Part 4: Hearing | Part 5: Obeying | Part 6: Rewarding | Part 7: Praying for More

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Part 1: Introduction

I’m going to structure this series around several passages that tell churches how they ought to treat their pastors. I’d like to start with a passage at the end of Hebrews:

Remember those who led you, who spoke the word of God to you; and considering the result of their conduct, imitate their faith (Heb 13.7).

We’re told to “remember” our pastor.

That sounds a little weak. Remember his name? Remember that he’s my pastor? Think kind thoughts about him? How’s that going to be of any help?

The confusion stems from the fact that we tend to use the verb remember of a purely intellectual activity—calling to the front of our mind a fact that’s been stored further back.

I can’t remember where I put my keys.

It’s a skill, an ability, something we either can do or can’t.

But in the Bible it’s not like that. A little earlier in the same NT book, the Bible says that God doesn’t remember our sins (Heb 8.12). Now, we know that God is omniscient—as the same book says even earlier (Heb 4.13), and is often said elsewhere in Scripture (1K 8.39; Ps 33.15; 94.11; 139.1-4; Mt 6.8; Ro 11.33). So he would never say, “I can’t find my keys,” or “I can’t remember what you’ve done wrong.” And when we read the passage carefully, we see that the verb isn’t “can’t,” but “won’t.”

God can remember our sins. But he won’t. He chooses not to.

In the Bible, then, remembering involves a choice, an act of the will, a decision to think about something.

We should place our thoughts on our pastor, bring him to mind. Make him a focus of our consideration.

So I repeat my earlier questions: do we just think kind thoughts about him? How’s that going to be of any help?

Well, there’s more depth to this word in the Scripture. Paul says of his meeting with the other apostles after his conversion,

They only asked us to remember the poor—the very thing I also was eager to do (Gal 2.10). 

Now, what’s the clear meaning here? Paul’s supposed to think about all those poor people and feel appropriately bad?

Of course not.

He’s supposed to think on their situation and figure out how he can do something about it. He’s supposed to roll up his sleeves and do something—as in fact he later did (Rom 15.25-26).

So “remembering” our pastor includes at least two concepts:

• Making his well-being a priority—bringing it to mind; and
• Doing something to make his well-being happen.

Some years ago I learned that my pastor at the time had collapsed in the church parking lot—as it turned out, from a stroke caused by the glioblastoma that would take his life a year later. After I hung up the phone, I spent the rest of the evening praying, worrying, wondering what I should do, wondering what I could do.

And then a thought struck me.

He needed my attention and prayers and plans to help just as much last night as he does tonight. Where were my thoughts and prayers then?

I needed to change my habits of thought, the focus of my attention.

There’s a little bit more to this verse.

We’re to imitate our pastor’s conduct, with consideration of its results.

What does that mean?

We’re to watch what he does, evaluate it, and follow his example on the good stuff.

We’re to consider him a pattern, but not an infallible one.

So he’s not a dictator, not a demigod. But when he does something right—studies the Word, shares it with others, loves and cares sacrificially for people, speaks an encouraging word, answers a call in the middle of the night—we should seek for opportunities to do likewise.

Call that to mind, even when there’s no emergency.

Part 3: Respecting | Part 4: Hearing | Part 5: Obeying | Part 6: Rewarding | Part 7: Praying for More

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash

Most Christians have been members of (or at least attended) a church long enough to go through a pastoral transition or to witness an ordination service. When they do, they’ll often hear a sermon on the pastor’s responsibility to the church. It might include a look at the qualifications for pastor as listed in 1Timothy 3 or Titus 1, and perhaps also a charge from 2Timothy 4.1-2:

¹ I solemnly charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by His appearing and His kingdom: ² preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with great patience and instruction.

Every pastor I know who’s worth his salt has approached these pastoral responsibilities with thoughtful solemnity and at least a little bit of fear. Who is sufficient for these things? Those of us who’ve never walked that path probably don’t understand the weightiness of that calling.

So we’ve all heard about the pastor’s responsibility to his flock. That topic gets its share of pulpit time.

But we hardly ever hear sermons about the flock’s responsibility to its shepherd.

Some might suggest that the whole concept is illogical. Shepherds take care of sheep; sheep don’t take care of shepherds. Why would the Scripture talk about that?

Well, I don’t like to speculate on the “why” of such things, but the fact is that the Scripture does address the concept, and repeatedly.

So why don’t pastors preach about it? Doesn’t the passage above charge them to “preach the Word”? All of it?

Well, I think we can see the problem. For a pastor to preach on “what you ought to do for me” would sound pretty self-serving, wouldn’t it? That feels just a little icky.

So they’d prefer that somebody else raise that issue.

Well.

As it happens, I’m not a pastor. Because God hasn’t called or gifted me for that role, I’ve never been ordained, and while I preach in churches as need arises, my financial needs are not provided by any congregation.

So I have no conflict of interest.

That being the case, I’d like to take a few posts to fill in a gap that your pastor, for reasons that are completely understandable, may have left in your awareness of biblical teaching.

But I really don’t want to give the impression that any fingers are being wagged in your face. This series isn’t about “more stuff we all gotta do, or else we’re bad Christians!”—first, because in a very real sense there are no bad Christians; our sin debt has been paid, in full, by the loving sacrifice of Christ, God is not angry with us, and we live under the glorious sunlight of infinite grace.

And second, because most of us have been ministered to by our pastors, and we appreciate what they’ve done, and we wish we could do something kind in return. We’d be all the more delighted to do something that we knew was part of God’s design for our pastor’s prospering, as revealed in the Scripture.

So I’ve titled the series not “What y’all gotta do for your pastor!” but “How to care for your pastor,” because that’s really what we’re talking about here. This is just a natural outgrowth of loving our neighbors, one of the ways we respond in gratitude for what God has graciously done for us.

We’ll start thinking about the particulars next time.

Part 2: Remembering | Part 3: Respecting | Part 4: Hearing | Part 5: Obeying | Part 6: Rewarding | Part 7: Praying for More

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