I am not one to contribute to social media posts. In fact, I have a personal rule that prohibits me, and I hold to it like a deontological ethic: namely, that I do not comment on anything. At most, I will “thumbs up” an article or a close friend’s family news, but 99.99% of the time, I consume and move on. I also immediately “unfollow” individual people so I don’t get sucked into the social media vortex. But I am in a couple of groups to get a handle on what my distant friends and colleagues are going through or thinking. So you could say I “lurk,” even if I rarely scroll through the comments sections. Online, at least, I mostly feel like a sports spectator who occasionally claps over a good shot or groans over a bad call.
But lately I’ve heard a stance regarding the church and ministry that is appalling enough that I hereby offer the encouragement of this article for consideration.
That stance is the cry of dismay that men and women are uncertain about encouraging people towards ministry in the LCMS—either pastoral, teaching, or otherwise. This, of course, has been brought about recently by the past year’s situation at Concordia Ann Arbor, which will not be rehashed here.
In the vein of Facebook-ery, comments fly all over the place in ways that many people would never speak to each other in real life. Once in a while, the hammer of dismay falls from the helpless masses: Well, I don’t see how I could possibly encourage my children into the ministry if this is how our church body will be run!
That is a bridge too far—way too far. In fact, I would argue that it goes so far as to subvert the very heart and soul of the ministry of Jesus Christ by defining the ministry by the ops of the LCMS and, at worst, placing our love for synodical institutions over the first commandment.
Let me pause and offer some commiseration instead of just flippancy. I, too, am devastated about my alma mater. I, too, have felt misled (at best) since last February. I, too, have significant trust issues regarding the current leadership, and I believe that transparency and reconciliation are sorely lacking in our Synod across the board (pun intended). Both “sides” point at the other and demand repentance over their respective wounds, and we’re at a synodical stalemate once again.
But I also believe that what unites us is infinitely greater than what divides us, and I have to choose to find the best motivations in other people, even if I disagree with their decisions. Yet another caveat: I do not necessarily think that much of the current conversation is not worth having. I do think that those who are hurt should try harder to see leadership as flawed-yet-trying to do what they think is best, and I do think that leadership should try harder to shoulder the burden of the stakeholders’ vitriol (and maybe apologize a little more sincerely), because the people quite frankly feel betrayed. I’ve also been around the block enough to know that both conventions (this summer and next) are going to get ugly, that everyone will act like victims, and that the church will be worse off for it.
None of that is actual ministry, though. All of this and more are just ways in which we pathetic humans seek to respond to the commission given to us by our Lord for the sake of good order. The ministry is the proclamation and teaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ to all for the forgiveness of sins, for the calling of all to faith, and for the proper reception of the sacrament(s) until Christ comes again in glory. And we need help.
Put simply, I do not recall Christ saying, “Beg the Lord of the Harvest to send workers into the vineyard unless the people in charge of your favorite college are making mistakes.”
Look, as a pastor, I know how ugly it can get, and being a member of the LCMS is complicated. (We could count our blessings, though; I recently spoke with a former ELCA pastor who had a seminary professor who didn’t believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ!) The ministry is rife with back-breaking trials, and the church has always sought new ways to bite and devour itself. But if we lose sight of the fact that Jesus himself prayed, “not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one,” then dissuading people from ministry is tantamount to idolatry. “Let the dead bury the dead” and “I will show [Saul] how much he must suffer” are quotes from our Lord that should appear on our recruitment posters—maybe next to a picture of a frazzled teacher, eyes blood-shot and head down on the desk after school. Saying you won’t encourage people into church work because you disagree with what the administration did at Ann Arbor is like burning down the church building because you don’t like the pastor. Come on. The ministry is bigger than that, and you should know better.
Besides, we who were called into vocational church work do not go into it because the system is so beautifully encouraging and well-built that we can frolic along arm-in-arm, preaching and teaching to multitudes of smiling faces. I went to CUAA back when they were five minutes away from closing entirely, and I joined the LCMS knowing full well that we are our own worst enemy; I did it anyway in order to preach the gospel better. We church workers got into this vocation like gladiators in the arena, receiving our ordinations and commissions with a “We who are about to die salute you.” We do it because we were once lost and now are found by Christ, and we will seek to overcome any obstacle to get that message out. We do it knowing full well that we’re joining the ranks of Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, John, and all the apostles who had struggles that make us wake up in a cold sweat. We do it because “Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel,” and we don’t want credit for it.
Yes, when it comes to our educational institutions (like CUAA), we hope for and strive to clear the road of its flotsam so that more people can be trained for the ministry. Still, we do so with no delusions that this ministry is not without severe Anfechtung. We do so knowing that the ministry is the most eternally important vocation known to man (and God). I would be overjoyed if my children went into church work. I encourage them to do so even knowing that every one of our schools, colleges, and seminaries will have difficulty. At every turn, someone will be unhappy about it, no matter who is in charge. Even knowing how hard it can get, I also know the joy of seeing the light of Christ come into a heart, knowing that the Spirit used me in some way to find them. I think you do too.
To that end, I encourage you all to avoid the avoidance of encouraging people into the ministry and adopt this mantra with me:
I would crawl over broken glass to send my children into the ministry.
Even if that broken glass is from the shattered remains of the school that made me who I am, so be it. Jesus is Lord of the church, of the ministry, of the LCMS, of CUAA, of all of us, and no amount of finger-pointing will change that.
