They Call Me Pastor by Bob Jones

The July prompt invited us to explore a genre we have never written in. Mine is poetry. I researched the various types of poetry: free style, haiku, ode, elegy, epic, ballad, acrostic, sonnet, and limerick to name a few.

Here’s my attempt at my own definition of freestyle poetry.

Being a pastor is not something to which I aspired.
It certainly wasn't a childhood desire.
By nurture, I'm a people person.
By nature, I’m the opposite version.

See a turtle on a fence post?
It didn't get there on its own
someone placed it there alone.
My fence post is a platform
that is not the norm,
of pastoral dare
for people under my care.

My most common connections with people occur
Sundays in the church foyer, which I prefer.

Preaching, teaching, praying, and meetings that are kept short,
Or officiating a wedding, a baby dedication or a celebration of some sort.

My most enduring connections are with people in crisis,
careening through a divorce,
facing debilitating distress,
suddenly bereaved,
with a loved one in need of help,
or diagnosed with a terminal illness,
not knowing where else to turn, who call for help.

We cry together,
struggle together,
pray together,
mourn together,
heal together.

Those circumstances create timeless connections.

We bond because of the shared pain and grace,
and thrive through the things we face.
We become warrior, sisters, brothers,
because our light has not been smothered.

It's easy to pick up a conversation after many months of separation,
renewed connections need no preparation.

Every so often, one of those connections does not stand the test of time.
Or trouble.

Seemingly out of the blue there is a change.

When my leadership,
spiritual insight,
ministry,
vision,
friendship,
are no longer adequate for their,
preference/need/circumstance,

and a close friend/co-worker/congregant
chooses to no longer be an ally,

I have to say,
“Ouch,”
and then,
“Grace and peace to you.”

…and continue to nurture and focus on the people still in my care.

I'd like to say that I have learned not to let such experiences of loss affect me, but I haven’t.

I’ve concluded that pain is the price of caring and vulnerability.
Jesus understood that.

After all,
who was it that experienced the first, “Judas Kiss?”

My pastoral ministry has spanned forty-four years, however in many ways I feel like a rookie.

I suppose that’s good because it means that each day brings new,
challenges,
complexities,
opportunities,
ways of doing things, and
ways of dealing with life.

The newness compels me to lean hard into Jesus.

No two days of ministry are EVER the same.

Variety is the spice of life,
and my pastoral experience is 5-pepper spicy.

There is nothing I would rather be than a pastor,
Even though other careers

To hear someone, someday say
that my life helped saved the day
or inspired them to pursue pastoral
would be my highest commendation.

Til then,
I will keep the faith,
fight the good fight,
run with perseverance,
long for His appearing,
forget what is behind, and
press toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me.

And there you go. How did I do?

Thank you for reading all the way through.

Life Is In The Interruptions by Bob Jones

“Maybe life IS the interruptions,” wrote Janice Dick.

As a pastor I can say a solid “amen” to that.

I used to work hard at time management and schedules to avoid interruptions. Now I work hard at life management to include interruptions.

Much of effective pastoral care is usually found in the interruptions.

The man widowed after 45 years of marriage whose call interrupts message prep about Biblical families because he needs help making sense of his newly single life.

The distraught mother whose call interrupts Board agenda prep because her adult son was just found dead in his apt.

The novice small group leader whose text interrupts budget prep needing to know why the God he is teaching about is so heartless in the Old Testament.

The seeker who shows up at the office interrupting an evangelism training seminar because they passed by the church and saw the sign that says, “Come as you are.” And so they’ve come. Now. To talk. About God.

In reading the Gospels two things stand out to me about how Jesus dealt with work and interruptions. Jesus was busy. Why else would John record in his gospel that if everything Jesus did was written down, the world would not have enough room to contain all the books about his work. (John 21:25) That’s busy.

But Jesus was never hurried.

Interruptions did not stop his work – they became his work. He was never too hurried to pause.

A woman with an “issue of blood” interrupted him on his way to heal a little girl. He paused. “Who touched me?” The woman was healed and so was the girl.

A blind man in Jericho interrupted Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem by calling out for mercy. His friends tried to quiet him. Jesus paused and healed him.

The longer I have worked at writing, the more I see that the writing life and life in general is not about balance but about priority. Relationships trump rules. People trump schedules. Family trumps just about everything.

Setting your pen down or turning aside from a keyboard to pay attention to an interruption could be the best thing you can do.

As I was writing this post about interruptions I was interrupted by a call from my eldest son and grandson. They’re five hours away in Saskatoon but as close as a Facetime call. An ironic interruption? Not really. Just life. At its best. Hello?

Bob is a recovering perfectionist, who collects Coca-Cola memorabilia and drinks Iced Tea. His office walls are adorned with his sons’ framed football jerseys, and his library shelves, with soul food. He writes to inspire people to be real, grow an authentic faith in Jesus, enjoy healthy relationships and discover their life purpose.

Follow his writing at Pointes Of View.

Leaving The Second Chair Behind by Bob Jones

The second chair was a comfortable one for me. 

I’m not referring to the comfort of upholstery or cushions or size.  My role as an "assistant to the senior pastor" - 2nd chair - of two different churches suited me very well.

My experience taught me that the second chair doesn’t have to be second class or place. It can be a significant place for a season or a lifetime.

Delegated responsibilities and the accompanying authority allowed me a fair bit of freedom to serve autonomously under a safe covering. My scope of ministry included leading overseas missions trips, a choir tour through the Eastern United States, a call-in radio program on Saturday afternoons out of Champlain, NY, hosting city-wide concerts as well as a youth ministry, Sunday School, young adults and preaching once a month.

Not having “the buck” stop with me was comfortably acceptable.

My second chair roles lasted fourteen years. Then I felt "the nudge.” 

It came only hours after our senior pastor and friend informed me that he would need to go on permanent disability. Months earlier he had cut back to part-time hours because of health reasons. He entrusted me with the role of associate pastor at the time.

Now, he was not just stepping back he was stepping out. And I was stepping into the role of interim pastor. That’s when I felt the nudge. “Would you be the next senior pastor of this church?” The Lord’s query was very clear. I don’t often profess to hear God “speak” but this time the message was very clear. Very. Clear.

The Board of the church initiated a search for a full-time senior pastor. They drafted a list of candidates. My name was not on the list. They knew this role was out of my “comfort zone.” Months passed. Thirty-two leaders were approached. Each declined the opportunity. During the process the remaining members of the pastoral staff resigned and left for other callings.  I was the “last man” standing.

Then the Board asked me if I would consider becoming the senior pastor. “Yes.” The rapidity of the response was quite astounding. I’m inclined to pray, consult, discuss and mull over significant decisions. But I had felt “the nudge.” Yes came clearly. Time to sit up and step away from the comfort zone of the second chair.

Our church is congregationally governed – they “elect” their senior pastors. On Sunday May 14, 1994 the vote was held. I was elected as their 21^st senior pastor.  

The past twenty-three years have been anything but comfortable and everything that is extraordinary.   

We’ve been through an intense relocation process, building a new $18 million facility, our church family has increased six fold and become a multi-cultural, come-as-you-are, risk-taking, compassionate community with a vision to see a personal relationship with Jesus grow in everyone, everyday. Recently we began construction on a new addition featuring increased classroom spaces and a 500-seat multi-purpose venue that will allow for a second onsite congregation.

I'm thankful I got nudged out of my comfort zone - or comfortable chair - and into my destiny.

Robert (Bob) W. Jones is a recovering perfectionist, who collects Coca-Cola memorabilia and drinks Iced Tea. His office walls are adorned with his sons’ framed football jerseys, and his library shelves, with soul food. He writes to inspire people to be real, grow an authentic faith in Jesus, enjoy healthy relationships and discover their life purpose.