The Lost Local Church

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
Recently, two articles got me thinking about the future of pastoring, at least as I have known and loved the vocation.

The first article reported that less than one-third of students now attending seminary plan on serving in local congregations. That’s not less than one-third plan on being pastors; that’s less than one-third plan on working in a local church in any capacity.

The second article was by an author new to me, but so far, I like her spunk. Her name is Karen Zacharias and she has a new book out with the eyebrow-raising title, Will Jesus Buy Me a Doublewide? ('Cause I Need More Room for My Plasma TV). The book is a funny but deadly serious critique of the so-called “prosperity Gospel,” the notion God wants to make you rich (unlike Jesus), not from any hard work or savvy on your part, but solely as a reward for your prayer, devotion, and generous donations sent to Brother-So-and-So’s P.O. Box.

Ms. Zacharias’ article about the current state of pastoring is entitled, “Need Your Pastor? Follow Him on Twitter” (@ ethicsdaily.com). The article is a nostalgic look at her beloved childhood pastor, Brother Smitty. Here was someone who knew your name, knew your Mama, and cared about the state of your soul. Ms. Zacharias contrasts this vanishing breed of pastor with the celebrity-obsessed, success-driven pretenders who are too busy and self-absorbed to visit hospitals, officiate at funerals, or do other “pastoral” work. Such congregational “rock stars” (her word) leave the grunt work of ministry to subordinates.

Most pastors I know, of whatever variety, do not deserve the skewering Ms. Zacharias so artfully gives them. But I do believe the day when pastors were first and foremost, shepherds of God’s flock, are on the wane. There is just too much pressure to be bigger (rather than better), more popular (rather than more prophetic), and more trendy (rather than timeless). Even the best-intentioned pastors can end up as CEOs of slick, ecclesiastical corporations instead of honoring the heart of their vocation. “Pastor” is from the Latin word for Shepherd, after all.

Perhaps a congregation too large for the pastor to know everyone’s name is simply too large. Such a belief dates me and consigns me to irrelevancy in an age when the megachurch is the gold standard of ministerial success. But when Jesus commissioned the first pastor, Peter, he didn’t say, “Run my operations” or “Increase my profits.” He said “Feed my lambs, tend my sheep” (John 21:15-19). In a world that seems intent on making everything else more important, I try to remember that.

I hope the one-third of seminary graduates open to local church ministry will learn what I have discovered: the real rewards of ministry are rarely found “on stage” but in the lush pastures and dark valleys where the footprints of the Good Shepherd go before us in loving, often anonymous, service.