A Pastor's Heart

A Photovotional — Pastoring Generations

The photos I share in my Photovotionals (devotions based on my photos) are pictures I’ve taken, except for this one! It was taken long before I was born by an unknown photographer, over a hundred years ago. The caption states that this is “The Claassen Brothers” threshing operation. As best as we can determine it’s my grandfather with his hand resting on the “roof” of the steam engine.

My grandfather pictured here was my Dad’s dad, John Claassen. My Dad carried the same name, John Claassen. My middle name is John, as is my son Dan’s, as is my grandson Casey’s: five generations with the same name. I never met my grandpa Claassen, for he died from complications after an appendectomy when my Dad was only ten years old. This photo gives me something of a connection to a man whose genes I carry but who I never knew.

Time separates us from both our ancestors and descendants, usually when the distance is more than four generations. Most of us didn’t get to know our great great grandparents nor will most of us know our great great grandchildren. Time separates people even more than does distance. Distances can be overcome while the passage of time can’t – transportation machines we can build, time machines we can’t.

We have not known our distant ancestors nor will we know our distant descendants, but we’re connected nevertheless. The connection is not just genetic but also by influence. This influence is not limited to our own family either. We’ve all been influenced by people who are no relation to us but who, like us, are the product of their ancestors, making their ancestors influencers on our lives. And we influence not only our children but others younger than us who will go on to influence still other people, many of whom will be born long after we’re gone, if the Lord tarries with His second coming.

We’ve been given the power of choice, of how to respond to the influence of those who came before us. We’ve been given the power of choice, of how to influence those who come after us. What “curses” of past generations do we want to stop and not pass on? What “blessings” do we want to pass on? “I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.” (Deuteronomy 30:19) In the chain of events that are unfolding each of us is a connecting link between the past and the future and have the choice to leave this world a better place.

As pastors we have congregations that span several generations and we seek to minister to them all. Our influence as pastors helps people deal with their past, encouraging them to give up hope of changing the past, and encouraging them to hold on to hope in making the future better than what the past has handed them.

“His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.” (Luke 1:50)

The Brick Laying Pastor

Our church building was built with bricks, thousands of bricks. The tower in the accompanying photo is our church “steeple” and it’s made out of brick too. I’ve always thought bricklayers have to be patient people because whatever they’re building it’s done one brick at a time.

A church building is not the church – we pastors have all said that a gazzillion times. We tell our people that the church is not brick or mortar, or stone or wood, or any other building material. Through the ministry of reminding we say it, one more time, that the church is people in relationship with God and with each other, living out discipleship together. OK, we get this. But this true church, as over against the brick and mortar building we often make our gathering place, is also built one brick at a time, bricks not of clay, but of seemingly small and daily words and actions.

Looking back on thirty-eight years of ministry, I can’t recall 99.9% of what I’ve said or done as a pastor. People will remind me of a comment I made some thirty years ago of which I have no recollection. It often sounds as if, according to their telling of it, that I said it spontaneously, in a casual conversation, and that it was impacting! People will share how I showed up just at the right moment, at some crisis moment in their lives. I graciously accept their affirmation, deciding to keep it to myself that, for the life of me, I can’t remember the event. On the down side, I’ve found out about times I’ve hurt someone, disappointed someone, or didn’t come through for someone and I have no recollection of what to them was a painful experience.

We’ve made thousands of decisions as a church, most of which I can’t remember, and they’ve all contributed to getting us to where we find ourselves today, some with negative ramifications and hopefully many with positive results. I know there’s no one who can tell me what I preached on three weeks ago (even I can’t remember) but I’ve got to believe the effort contributed something to our spiritual pilgrimage. I also don’t remember what I ate for dinner five days ago, but I know that food has contributed life to my body. I’m thinking that feeding the body of Christ is like that, not usually memorable but nonetheless nourishing.

There have been memorable pivotal meetings and defining moments in my ministry, but most of it has been day to day ministry where I have done rather ordinary things from one hour to the next. Rarely, in being an instrument of the Lord to help build His church, have I had the instant gratification of putting up large pre-fab sections. Mostly, it’s happened one brick at a time.

Individual bricks are rather ordinary objects, but they can be used to build an architectural masterpiece. We dream of having a great ministry for God, and we should. But it comes down to what we’re called to do in the ministry today. We can do no better than to hear the Master Bricklayer say to us, “Here’s another brick,” and put ourselves to the task of laying it in place.

Photovotional — Heaven’s Slide

(A PHOTOVOTIONAL is my term for a photo accompanied by a related devotional)

I’ve always loved sunbeams, they prompt me to think of heaven. They’re lighted pathways spanning heaven and earth. Or perhaps they’re better described as silver slides, like the kinds kids slide down, maybe for playful angels?

This photo was taken one very foggy morning when I was walking along the edge of the soybean field behind our place. The sun was struggling to break through, and it did so several sunbeams at a time. I rushed back to the house to retrieve my camera, then back out to the bean field.

We yearn for the transcendent. We instinctively know there is more to life than buttering our toast, doing a load of wash, driving here, there, and back again, shuffling papers at a desk, cleaning a house that will be dirty and dusty again a week from now, or manufacturing something that will be in a landfill in twenty years. It’s not that the day-to-day details of life are unimportant, they aren’t. God has anointed them as part of what it means to be human on a daily basis. Still, we know there’s more, and, for me, sunbeams remind me that there’s more, far more.

It’s good, while we’re living the details of each day, to maintain a heavenly perspective, an eternal view. Like the child who glances at a parent from the sandbox or the stage to see if they’re paying attention or for their approval, so we have a Heavenly Father who gives us His full attention. We can know we are part of His divine plans and that we have His mighty help. We can pray the psalmist’s prayer, “Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.” (Psalm 17:8)

While we’re here on earth we’re to embrace all that God has for us to do.  But in the doing of it we’re to never lose sight of heaven’s perspective.  Sunbeams are just one way God reminds me of this!  “The heavens proclaim his righteousness, and all peoples see his glory.” (Psalm 97:6)