A Wasted Life? A Compromised Life!

A pastor in South Carolina named Clayton King wrote the following blog. I think it will help you to understand me better. I want what I do as a pastor/minister/leader . . . you fill in the blank about title, I want it to make a difference in the world. I want it to make a difference in your life, so you make a difference in the world. I have to answer to God, yes to the church, but the ultimate authority is God. As a result, I don't want to compromise what I believe God is calling me to do, so I can placate the people in the church. This means I have to make difficult decisions about where and how God is leading us. It means I must spend time with God and know Him very, very well. At least as well as I can, because the pressure is always on. I need to lead, to envision, to dream, even to dream out loud. I hope I will never check my passion and desire at the door. I want it to become infectious, contagious and I want the world to catch it, and I want to catch the passion of those who are pumped up about Jesus.

So, this blog from Clayton stands on its own. I'd be interested about your reactions.

This is something every Christian needs to read, because it is possible for us to get so caught up in trying to please people that we lose sight of WHO we were created for (GOD), thus causing us to waste our life trying to please people who will not be our final judge . . . and so, with his permission, I have reposted his thoughts ~

"Several days ago, I wrote a reflection on "Dangers for Seasoned Veterans" where I listed 10 potential struggles that older ministers and Christians sometimes succumb to. I promised to share a personal story about one such veteran that I had the great honor to know and even serve on a number of occasions. I had intended to post it a few days earlier, but have spent every free moment trying to ready our new home for inspection on Monday.(In order to protect this man’s integrity and not cast him or his surviving family in a negative light, I choose not so use his real name.)

When I was in middle school, our family carpooled with several other families, but one family really stood out. The dad was a pastor of a church in our community, and he was one of a kind. Old school, Bible quoting, Southern Baptist, and country to the core. He had a jovial and warm personality and was never, that I recall, in a bad mood. He was trained in the classic seminary model, where he moved his family to a seminary town and spent 3-4 years finishing his degree while pastoring small churches, all the while his wife worked 2 jobs just so they did not starve. He was known and loved by all his parishioners and everyone in town.

As the years passed, his congregation began to age, as did he. His health began to fail, largely due to the stresses of his job. The older people felt like the church as slipping away from them; too much change, too many new people, and a pastor that was not “holding things together.” They gave him grief for every little innovation he suggested, encouraged him to stop visiting new people in the community and spend more time taking care of the core group of church members. When he hesitated to give in to all the demands of the older members, the deacons reminded him that he had a secure job with benefits and that if he rocked the boat, he would find himself looking for a new church (and how many churches would want to hire a pastor in his late 50s with high blood pressure, hypertension, and high cholesterol)? He understood their point, and he decided to GO ALONG TO GET ALONG.

A few years ago I was in the hospital visiting a family member when I walked past a room and heard a familiar voice. It was this same pastor, that I had known as a child, whom I dearly loved and respected. It had been years since I had preached for him, but his voice was unmistakable. I entered the room and his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. We visited for about 10 minutes until I could tell he was worn out. The heart surgery had taken a toll on him, so after I prayed for him, I was ready to leave.

He grabbed my hand and began to weep. “Are you still preaching the gospel, Clayton?” I responded that I was and intended to until I died. Then he choked out these words.

“Don’t you ever stop, and don’t you ever let anyone stop you. I let a church full of lazy christians steal my passion away from me. They did not want to change, they wouldn’t reach out to anyone, and they did not care about people dying without Jesus. All they cared about was making church easy and convenient. I let them scare me into doing what they wanted. And I slowly died. I would give anything to be your age again, Clayton. I would do it differently and I would obey God no matter what people said. Trust me son, you don’t want to end up like me, dying in hospital with regrets hanging over your head. Once you let anybody other than Jesus tell you what to do, you begin to die.”

It was the last conversation I had with an old friend. But as that Seasoned Veteran took a bow not long after that, his words are still ringing in my ears. I hope they stick with you for a while, too."