I don’t know about you guys, but when it became known that I had surrendered to a call into the ministry, I got a good deal of advice. Some of it was pretty good; for instance, our Associational Missionary prayed that I would allow God to make the best pastor He could out of me. His prayer was both affirming and humbling. But much of the advice I received was—well, let’s just say that it was less good. One minister, for instance, gave me a printed sheet “proving” that his view on millennialism was correct and the only possible position for anyone with half a brain. At this point, some forty years later, I do not remember what his position was; I do remember that I had the good sense to say (to myself), “I am going to seminary; one, they will give me the theological education I need to make an informed decision, and two, I can decide on my own what to believe about millennialism—whatever that is.”
Another bit of advice I received was, “Get rid of everything you have that does not directly contribute to the ministry.” Now, I have always been a reader, and especially interested in history. At that time (I was 33 then) I had a decent collection of books, antique firearms, antique clocks, and a 1932 Buick. Well, I sold the car, and all the firearms and the clocks; without them, I saw no reason to keep the books. Some I gave away, but most I put into a storage building at my father’s place. He had an accident my senior year at seminary and had to go into a nursing home. When I checked that building, someone had broken into it, and the only books left were a few that had gotten wet and were ruined. But it was no big deal; they did not contribute, directly or indirectly to the ministry. Right? About halfway through my first pastorate, I realized that to keep from being burnt out, I needed an outlet not connected with the ministry. And everything I had along those lines . . . was gone. Yeah, great advice.
The purpose of this is not to lament things I no longer have. Instead, it is about the advice you and I would give a new pastor. So here is my two cents worth:
1) Recognize that even after seminary, you will not know everything about anything.
Learning is a lifelong process, and it is just possible that someone else has a better-informed opinion than do you.
2) Know that seminary professors, though better educated than you, are still human. They will have their own biases and they put their pants on one leg at a time, just like you do.
Therefore do not blindly take their word for everything. Instead, be a Berean and test everything against Scripture, or other relevant sources. Like my late wife used to say,
“Just because your friends are jumping off a bridge, that doesn’t mean you should.”
3) Study constantly, and do not fall into the trap of studying only those sources with which you agree.
I have learned more from books (and people) I disagree with. Why? If it is something I agree with, I tend to gloss over it and move on. If I disagree with it, it forces me to dig deeper and examine my own beliefs and opinions in the cold, hard light of reason, and my faith becomes the stronger for it.
4) Always be vigilant for presuppositions, and examine them thoroughly.
There are inevitably things which are not stated, and often not even verbalized mentally by the speaker or writer, but still guide that person’s arguments. For instance, I was once questioning some conclusions to which a pastor had come, and I asked what his presuppositions were. He replied that his were that the Bible is the inerrant Word of God. I responded, “No, that is what you believe, not your presupposition. I think your presupposition is that everything in the Bible was meant to be taken literally and prescriptively, because that is the only way I see that you could arrive at the position you have taken. It does not take into account the possibility that some things were meant figuratively or that some are no more than descriptive of a particular event, yet not God’s last word on the subject.”
5) You have two ears but only one mouth.
Just maybe, God planned it that way so you would listen more than you talk. The church members you serve will have their opinions on everything, and even if they are wrong, they deserve to be heard. And when you think they are wrong, approach them with a loving attitude—and decide if their opinion is important enough to go war over. Not everything is worth a war. Remember: you are the outsider. Chances are, they already have allies ready to agree with them, regardless of the merits of the issue.
6) As a pastor, you are expected to be a leader. But there is a difference between leading and dictating.
We are no more puppets on a string than were the disciples, or for that matter, the best characters of the Old or New Testaments. Neither are those church members puppets for God—or for you. Lead the way Jesus led, and if the people choose a different direction, it is time for serious prayer and maybe to find a different position.
7) I am always available to talk, to let you bounce ideas off me, and to listen to your thoughts, frustrations, and pain.
That is what I would give. What advice would you give to that new or soon-to-become pastor?
From a very rural area in the low mountains, of east Alabama, John Fariss has a BS from Birmingham-Southern College (majored in Physics, minored in Math), an M.Div. from Southeastern Baptist Seminary, and a D.Min. from Drew University in Madison, NJ. A former police officer in Montgomery, AL, he served churches in NC, VA, and MD. He retired in 2018, but currently serves as a Transitional Interim Pastor.