The Weathered Pastor

   

            The night sky was slowly beginning to break. The sun’s rays were bright embers of joy. The trees swayed melodically as the wind beat a soft jazz rhythm. In the morning sky the church look the same. It was the prototype for the typical. It was not new. The church had been built over 100 years ago. The steeple was showing the signs of harsh weather during long winters. It’s once proud white front now had been distorted to jagged white flakes. In the parking lot stood the man who brought the church to its glory. He was not the typical pastor. He never tried to impress anyone with his fashionably right clothes or grand witty banter. He merely was himself and that was what people enjoyed. There was nothing about him that appealed to the modern sense of pastor. He didn’t get into all the PowerPoint and bright lights. He rarely used video for any type of teaching, mainly because he was to a computer what a diet pill is to an anorexic. This was not to say he wasn’t into new things, he was just a little behind the times.

            At first the situation did not bother him. No one seemed to care that he didn’t progress with the society. He was faithful to preach, faithful to teach and faithful to love. But now, it didn’t seem to be enough. As he stared at the church walls he felt as if they had a lot in common. Despite the fact he had stood strong for the cause of Christ for so many years, his age gave a deceptive picture of ineffectiveness. The battle scars from wear and tear screamed louder than the desire of his heart.

            He honestly was just tired. Normally he would fight to the bitter end but it seemed the bitterness came quicker these days. His spiritual bones were frazzled and he didn’t know when they would finally break. It was not the arguments that hurt, it was the overwhelming sense that all he did was a failure. People seemed to do nothing but inform him of what needed to be done. For some reason, somewhere along the way, he had lost his grip on the church and the sheep were trying to guide the shepherd.

            This had not been his first church, although he had battled through a lot. He had only pastured 3 churches in his lifetime. Many were just bus stops to this final destination. He had called this place home for so long, he didn’t know what he would do if he ever had to leave the place. Unfortunately, he feared that day was quickly coming.

            As he stared at the church he began to remember all the good times. The glory days seem to have an essence of perfection when remembered in gloom. There were so many things that had gone so perfect in the past. So many fellowships and outreaches brought in people and families. Lives were changed weekly. Now, it seemed that death was more common than salvation and obituaries replaced baptism. But he had a plan.

            He had decided a while ago that he would begin having meetings with influential people in the congregation. He figured that these select few could give him a good idea of where the church was heading and help him to know what needed to be done. So far, it seemed to be more of a rocky road than a smooth brook. It became evident, everyone really does have an opinion and most of them stank.

            He was at his wits end, that was, until just a few days ago when one final person approached him. This was someone he had never considered. Someone he never thought would want the church to progress forward and to become more culturally relevant. The conversation occurred in the hallways of the church, this is where most business is taken care of, whether legal or not. The conversation was brief but, in the pastor’s mind, it was the inspiration he needed.

            The man was an older deacon in the church. Some joked that he had been around since before Moses. One youth asked him once if he remembered the red sea, to which the man smiled, grabbed the boy’s ear and reminded him to respect his elders. Needless to say, the boy never messed with him again. The mad was not mean but was known. He preferred to share his opinion more than to hear someone else’s. Mainly because everyone else was already wrong, in his opinion.

            On this rare occasion the man was happy. He had a bright smile on his face and a sense of determination flowing through his veins.  He walked briskly up to the pastor and asked, “May I have a word er two with ya?”

            The pastor replied, “Well as long as it is only two, okay”

            The man did not find it humorous and informed the pastor of his intentions. “Now pastor, I support you and all. I want te see this church grow to its glory but I fell theys some things that need to bee tended to before it can all get fixed.”

            The pastor smiled back, “I am glad to hear of your concern, is there anything in particular?”

            The man look both ways down the hall to make sure that no one was listening in, “Well ye see, I just don’t feel comfortable sharing things in these open hallways. Peoples opinions have a way of just slipping through them walls. Do you think I could come by and chat in private; I got a lot on my mind.”

 

            The pastor did not know exactly what this faithful deacon meant. He just knew that he was looking for someone who cared enough about the church to actually help him. So, he made plans to meet.

            The pastor entered the church through the same doors he always did. Fred was there eating his breakfast and smiling as usual. The pastor nodded and said good morning and then entered the building. As he got to the door he heard a loud truck rumbling outside. He looked down at his watch and realized that it was nearly time for his meeting. He knew he needed to say a quick prayer just to get his mind and soul ready. As he entered his office he looked up to God and asked for wisdom and thanked God for this man’s deep concern. As he turned to leave the door ajar he laughed to himself, “To think, some people call him uzeless!”