Hear This for Today, Pastors

by Peggy Haymes

Walking down the street to the church anniversary luncheon, I ran into a colleague who’d once served as interim pastor of this church in which I’d grown up. After we’d done a bit of catching up I said, “I still remember the sermon you preached.”

A pastor’s leaving had been sudden and traumatic. This colleague was asked to preach on that first Sunday, speaking to a congregation unsettled and off kilter. To be honest, I don't remember what he said. What I remember is how his very presence seemed a balm and his words were filled with reassurance and hope. I was not yet a full grown adult, but the experience opened my eyes to the possibility of offering pastoral care to an entire congregation.

That was many decades ago. I’ve never forgotten it.

At the luncheon I sat with one of the “kids” with whom I’d grown up. Her father had been our pastor from the time I was a toddler until I was a young teenager. “I still remember your dad’s last sermon,” I said. I remember what he said about a church listening for its calling and being brave to live it out. I was a young teenager, but it shaped how I thought about the work of the church.

I’ve never forgotten it.

Truth be told, I was a worship nerd from my early years, saving bulletins to keep the prayers and liturgies they contained. So I’d understand if you chalk up these formative memories to my liturgical geekiness. And yet, there’s this.

I was commissioned to write a hymn for the anniversary celebration. Growing up, our bulletins always began with the words, “The church gathered for worship” and ended with the words, “The church scattered for service.” I worked the “gathered/scattered” motif into one of the hymn stanzas, my own private nod to those years.

Except it wasn’t private.

A half dozen of the people with whom I’d grown up were at that luncheon. Every single one of them said to me, “Hey - that gathered/scattered thing. It used to be in our bulletin every week.” Some asked if I’d done that on purpose, and of course I told them yes. It’s been over forty years, but they remembered.

I could go on and on. Recently at my college reunion some of us talked about the impact of our college chaplains, how they helped us navigate the everyday challenges of college and sometimes unthinkable times of loss or crisis.

Here’s why I’m dragging you down my memory lane.

None of these ministers knew at the time the impact they were having. Some of them may never have known.

Evaluation is a tricky thing for clergy. Success may be measured not in growth in numbers but in managing to hold on. Or success may come wrapped in the weird guise of helping a congregation say goodbye to buildings or even to a beloved church. The usual business accomplishments neatly wrapped up in numbers and percentages of growth that people post on their LinkedIn profiles elude us.

There will be a time to talk in this space about pastor and staff evaluations, and how they might be occasions for reflection and growth rather than fear and trembling. There are times to consider the importance of self assessment and how we might build on our strengths and address what we don't do so well.

But for today, hear this.

You never really know how much you’ve done and the impact you’ve had.

You may never know all of the times when the word you were faithful in preaching was just the word that someone needed to hear for that day and maybe for the rest of their lives. You’ll never hear about the time when that moment of kindness was an extraordinary gift for a soul that was far more battered than you realized.

If your ministry feels like a dance right now or if it feels like a slog, remember this. However we evaluate the effectiveness of our work, we see only in part. We work in partnership with a Spirit who takes the seeds we offer and grows them up in surprising ways.