Blessed Is the Person Who Has a Pastor

A version of this Musing first appeared February 28, 2017

Tomorrow, those who love my pastor celebrate his birthday. Knowing him, he’s not making a big deal out of it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t.

I want to go beyond him and think about the three men whom I have called “pastor” in my 58 years. I should pause right there. In a day when the word privilege has become a derogatory term, how privileged am I to have had only three pastors in my lifetime! God has been good to me when I think of my pastors.

The Kid from Chicago’s Southside

As a child and through my college years, I grew up under the genuine example of Pastor Bill Schroeder. Pastor Schroeder taught me to love the church, not the buildings or the programs, but the people who make a local church. He displayed his love for the people from the pulpit and in the lobby. While preaching authoritatively from God’s Word, I never recall him berating the church; rather, he tenderly admonished us to obedience to God fostered on our Lord’s love for us and our love for him.

In the lobby when worship was over, Pastor Schroeder warmly welcomed each in attendance. That was no small task in a gathering of many hundreds. When he shook the hands of the young boys, he taught us to look another man in the eyes and greet him with a firm handshake. He recognized the innocence of the little girls and sought their protection in the home and in the church.

To him, marriage and the home were of the highest Christian priorities and deserved all necessary attention to promote their success. His sermons and teaching on marriage and the family continue to be the bedrock for Brenda and me in our marriage and in our relationships with our children.

From his ministry tree grow branches of Christian testimony all across the United States and around the world. Conservatively speaking, there are thousands of souls headed to heaven or already there because of the “soulwinning” efforts of Bill Schroeder, his “preacher boys,” and the members of the church he served.

Pastor Schroeder heard our Lord say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” He served the Lord and the local church into his 80s. I am privileged to call Bill Schroeder my pastor.

The Deer Hunting Pastor

In reality few people outside of a small circle of very conservative Christianity know Pastor Tom Olney. This is a great loss for the rest of Christianity. Open a dictionary and search for the word “pastor” and there you will find a picture of Tom Olney. He is in every sense of the word, a shepherd.

In the summer of 1988, Pastor Olney brought me to the pastoral staff of Faith Baptist Church in Godfrey, Illinois, a city in the shadows of St. Louis, Missouri. Freshly graduated from seminary and recently married, I was chomping at the bit to get going. The church needed a youth pastor, and I needed a job. We were a match made in heaven.

Pastor Olney and I were together for only four years, but I cannot express how much I learned from him on a pastoral level and how much I gained from him on personal level. In the years I was with him, he bore many personal pains and too many pastoral burdens. Over and again, I watched him handle them with a graciousness and wisdom that was not of this world. He could laugh at himself while never laughing at other people. He loudly celebrated the accomplishments of others while never drawing attention to himself.

When he took up archery deer hunting, stories of the hunt became regular sourcing for sermon illustrations. My recollection is the stories were genuinely self-deprecating and always God praising. As the story unfolded, the rate of the spoken words increased too. “So, there I was sitting in the stand, and I saw this buck way across the field, and I began to pray. ‘Now, Lord, you know the freezer is empty and that deer is too far away for me to shoot.’ And then that deer turned in a way I’ve never seen a deer turn and started walking right toward me. Then he stopped at the end of my range, and he wasn’t coming any closer. So, I prayed. ‘Lord, I’m going to take this shot, but you know this is a long shot. You’re going to have guide this arrow.’ And well, there’s a deer in the freezer that God gave to me. Isn’t God so good?”

I could go on and on about his impact on my life via boxing, Volkswagen Beetle cars, tragic loss of life in the youth group, miscarriage in our little family, and watching him love his wife and point his five children toward Jesus Christ. When I was a 23-year-old kid, Pastor Olney took a huge risk on me inviting me to join his pastoral staff and the work at Faith Baptist. His contributions to me, to Brenda, and to Michael in those four years far outweigh my contributions to the church.

Pastor Tom Olney began his ministry at Faith in the 1960s when he was in his 20s. More than 50 years later, Pastor Tom Olney continues to shepherd the only church ever to call him pastor. I am privileged to call Tom Olney my pastor.

Above Reproach

February 28 is Dan Dickerson’s birthday. He and my mom were born months apart. For more than 30 years, he has been my spiritual father. Should you hear me use the phrase, “my pastor,” I am likely talking about Pastor Dan Dickerson, the senior pastor at Calvary Baptist Church in Midland, Michigan.

Brenda and I left southern Illinois to head north and join the pastoral staff where Pastor Dan led the effort. Leaving our former ministry was bittersweet but seemed to be the leading of the Lord. In hindsight no question remains in my mind that it was the Lord’s leading.

Each pastor has his strengths and his limitations. Some pastors are masters in the pulpit while others are masters around the kitchen table. Of his many strengths and gifts, none stands out more to me than Pastor Dan’s character. In my intimate knowledge of him for the majority of my adult life, no one has ever had an occasion to question his character. When Bible study authors comment on Paul’s words, “a bishop then must be blameless” (1 Timothy 3:2), they would be accurate to put in their notes, “See Dan Dickerson in Midland, Michigan, as an example.”

As a spiritual father to me, he modeled in words and deeds, both when he knew I was observing and when he did not know, what it means to be a Christian husband, father, and pastor. I grew more as a man in my nearly 10 years with Pastor Dan than at any point in my life before or since. Since our move to Minnesota more than 23 years ago, he remains my most trusted counselor. At any moment on any day, I can pick up the phone and call him, and he will do for me whatever is in his power to do. He is my example of what a pastor can be.

Like a wise father, he knew when to advise me, challenge me, prompt me, and rebuke me. Like a wise father, he never claimed to know everything on every subject, but was mindful to learn as much as he could on a subject so as to help me and others. Like a wise father, he bore problems not created by him but embraced by him for the good of the church. So much more should be written about his pastoral impact on the people of Midland, Michigan.

Pastor Dan Dickerson, now at an age where many have left the work of the Lord, continues to serve as the pastor of Calvary Baptist Church in Midland, Michigan. I love him, and I am privileged to call him my pastor.

Of note to me is how each of these men and their wives continue to serve the Lord in the latter years of their lives. Sure, time means they move a little slower, but not by much. Age means their bodies fatigue more easily, but not enough to stop them. They remain kind, loving, joyful, courageous, studious, and useful in their older years. I want this for myself, and I hope you want this too. Now in this time of their lives they continue to teach me what it looks like to be a Christian pastor, and more, what it looks like to be a Christian man.

God has been so good to me to give me a pastor. I thank my Lord Jesus for his special gifts (Ephesians 4:11-12).

As always, thanks for reading, and I welcome your feedback and any suggestions you might have for an upcoming Lunchtime Musing.

Keep Scrolling

Solomon had it right thousands of years ago when he penned, “Avoiding strife is an honor for a person, but any fool will quarrel” (Proverbs 20:3, NASB). Not every social media post requires your attention, and fewer require your interaction. Within the real relationships of marriage, family, church, and friends, we do well to choose not to fight.

Think of the energy and time we would save by choosing not to fight and not to get involved in a dispute. There is only so much bandwidth available to each of us. It’s foolish to engage in petty conflicts that drain discretionary resources and negatively impact relationships.

I wonder how much better marriages could be if spouses would choose not to quarrel. Who cares if your wife parks her vehicle in the wrong part of the driveway, leaves your vehicle low on gas, or stuffs tissues in the door handle where she has also deposited her Chapstick?

What difference does it make that your husband doesn’t remember your friend’s name and the story you told him about your friend’s dishwasher that only cleans on two settings between the hours of 7:00 – 11:00?

I suspect in the course of Christian marriages there are far fewer occasions that necessitate a fight than the number of quarrels we actually engage.

I wonder how much better parent / child relationships would be if the generations would choose not to fight. Why battle with your three-year-old who spins like a top walking behind you in the grocery aisle? Why engage your teenage son who randomly chooses to part his hair differently while adding some product for reasons none of us can comprehend? Why have the last word with an elderly parent who may not recall what was said tomorrow or the next day?

I suspect in the minivans, SUVs, and houses of Christian families there is honor awaiting those who will avoid strife, the kind that accomplishes nothing of value, damages relationships, and does not please our Lord.

Matthew Henry offers great counsel and don’t scroll past his words. You’ll be glad you paused to read them.

Men think it is their wisdom to engage in quarrels; whereas it is the greatest folly that can be. He thinks himself a wise man that is quick in resenting affronts, that stands upon every nicety of honor and right, and will not abate an ace of either, that prescribes, and imposes, and gives law, to everybody; but he that thus meddles is a fool, and creates a great deal of needless vexation to himself. 

As always, thanks for reading, and I welcome your feedback and any suggestions you might have for an upcoming Lunchtime Musing.

That's Your Opinion

How did Paul do it?

The guy wasn’t a woman and had limited experience with women, but he sure did have a lot to say to women about what it means to be a wife and mother and a female member of a local church. He wasn’t a father, but he brings the heat to dads about what it means to raise kids. He never married, but he directed single guys on the dating scene and hopeful ladies looking to land a man.

I suspect Paul heard the same thing in his day that so many spout today, “Hey Paul, just wait until you have kids…” or “Paul, I hear you, but you have no idea what it’s like to have a wife, so you may not know everything you think you know.”

The guiding principle for engagement is you must be what I am or have experienced what I’ve experienced. Without a shared experience, your words are little more than hot air. Unless you’ve faced any of the following, you’re not qualified to talk about it.

  • Not a parent, can’t talk about raising kids.

  • Not a parent of girls, can’t talk about raising girls.

  • Not a parent of boys, keep it closed when it comes to raising boys.

  • Not a parent of teens, then you have no idea what I am going through and really shouldn’t say anything.

  • Never been married, then no phone calls or texts please about how to be a spouse or address a marriage problem.

  • Never been divorced, then, yeah, I’m not really looking to you for advice.

  • Never experienced infertility, then please keep your comments to yourself.

  • Never been laid off, out of work, or bankrupt, then your privilege has no place with me.

  • Not a woman, then don’t mansplain to me.

  • Never cared for an elderly parent, then don’t tell me what you think I should do as their son.

Two Bible principles intersect at this point.

Paul wrote to a young pastor named Timothy, “Let no man despise thy youth” (1 Timothy 4:12). What is there to despise about being young except the fact that you are young, you haven’t seen it all, you haven’t done it all? Old school looks at the young man, nods his head, and chuckles at his inexperience, and old school is less than enthusiastic to heed direction or counsel from the young man.

Experience is a helpful teacher. With experience, we improve over time with repetitions. With experience, we learn to repeat successes and avoid errors. With experience, we gain status from onlookers who observe our accomplishments and achievements.

Let no one despise your youth, but be an example to the believers in word, in conduct, in love, in spirit, in faith, in purity. Till I come, give attention to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine - Paul to Timothy

Experience is not an authority. What works for one person in parenting or small business ownership or church growth or financial planning may not work for someone else. Factors too numerous to catalog make similar outcomes uncertain. For one pastor to say to another, “You should do it this way too because it worked for us” cannot anticipate all the variables from one setting to the next. Does that mean that we should not listen to others because our situations are neither similar nor identical? That would be a foolish conclusion.

Paul follows the admonition to Timothy, “Don’t let anyone put you down because you’re young” with “Continue to read the Scriptures to the people, strengthen them, and teach them.” Timothy’s influence does not reside in his vast experience. Timothy possesses no authority to dictate behaviors. In all matters, Paul directs Christians to turn to the Bible for answers to life’s moments.

When we hear the problems others face, we serve them by pointing them to helpful and hopeful Scriptures which become a lamp to their feet and a light to their path. When we contemplate our next moves in our varied life experiences, we commit ourselves to the reading of the Bible, by which we will be strengthened for the challenge we face, and from which we learn the steps to take.

With every passing day we gain experience, some of it happy and much of it sad. Here, experience informed by and interpreted by the wisdom of the Bible becomes a valuable aid. Now we speak to others the Bible with our experience as an illustration that the Bible can be trusted in the present moment.

s always, thanks for reading, and I welcome your feedback and any suggestions you might have for an upcoming Lunchtime Musing.

The Scoreboard Shows Girls 3 Boys 2

A few weeks ago when her older brother’s birthday fell on a Tuesday, the younger sister commented, “I guess my birthday just has to fall on a Tuesday for dad to write about me.” Women!

Well, younger sister did one better. She gave birth to a daughter late on a Monday night. Did she time the labor so her author-daddy would write about his new granddaughter and the beautiful mother on the following Tuesday? Inquiring minds want to know.

Go Make More Christians

There are so many joys of being a pastor, and the joys outdistance the sorrows. Officiating marriages is at the top of the list. I have the best view of the looks shared by the bride and groom. I hear the whispered words that fall silent before reaching the ears of the invited guests. I commend the couple to go live with God’s great blessing when I pronounce them “man and wife.” The cherry on the sundae is that I have been privileged to perform the marriages of my three older children.

Like the scores of marriages I’ve performed before theirs, I led my daughters and sons in their vows and listened to their declarations of intent. I delivered the wedding sermon with some traditional words I’ve used in most ceremonies prior to theirs. But for my children I added a new line, one I now incorporate in all weddings where I officiate, “Go make more Christians!”

One generation shall praise your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.
Psalm 145:4

God’s Gift to Them and Her Gift to Us

All life is created by God. Every plant in the soil, fish in the waters, bird in a nest, animal in the field, and child in the womb received its life from God. In each example, God uses the biological act he designed to bring new life into the world. The life is God’s blessing to the previous generation (Psalm 127:3). With every act of creation, we praise God for the display of his glory and power to bring new life to our fallen world. In a place where death dominates, God continues to bless with life. In the same place where spiritual death dominates, God brings life to all who are born again (John 3). God’s gift in the physical world and the spiritual world are the same – life! May all the earth praise him!

I’ve been in the birthing room. Many of you have been there too, either as a spectator or as an active pusher. I truly am amazed at what a woman does to give birth to a baby. After 9 months of pregnancy with all its ups and downs, the moment comes for the baby to arrive. When the attending medical people say, “One more push!” momma engages every muscle in her body, fights through the pain, and wills herself to bring her child into the world. What a mother does is awesome.

And then soon grandpa gets to hold her. She greets grandpa from her little car seat with the warmest of smiles. She sits near him on a Sunday night hymn sing and offers her praise to the Lord in her sweet, little voice, making up the words as she joins the congregation. His grandsons run to him, hug his legs, jump into his arms, and hug his neck. His daughters may not know it, but these grandchildren are her ultimate gift to him. He cannot convey sufficiently his gratitude for what she endured to give him these gifts. I love you, momma!

So now the girls outnumber the boys 3-2. It’s not a competition, but I’d be ok if they figure out how to even the score.
 

As always, thanks for reading, and I welcome your feedback and any suggestions you might have for an upcoming Lunchtime Musing.

 

Missing Her

8 years ago today, January 23, 2016, my mom died. She was 69 years old, had suffered a virus-induced heart attack about a decade earlier, developed congestive heart failure, endured not one but two LVAD (Left Ventricle Assist Device) surgeries which prolonged her life, and loved her Lord until he called her home. What follows is what I wrote on the one-year anniversary of her death. Thanks for reading, and if you knew my mom, I hope my brief words put a smile on your face. And if you are a Christian, I hope you will live faithful to our Lord like my mom and so many others did before us.

Originally published January 23, 2017

One year. 365 days. So many memories. So many curiosities. One year ago today my mom, Bonnie VerWay, finished her race having kept the faith.

The year without her has provided brief moments of thought and long periods of deep reflection. A song, a signpost, a cartoon, or a current event often brings her to mind, providing a nearly always happy moment. Yard work, shoveling snow, long drives, hours awake in the darkness, or alone on a boat allow for solitude to consider the fullness of her life and the expanse of God’s grace. I will need many more years to grasp his grace to her and, by extension, to me.

My own life seems so much shorter now. In a little more than seventeen years, I will be as old as she was when she left this earth and entered into the presence of her savior and mine. How long before my heart fails like hers did? How long before my eyes dim and my voice weakens? I am much more aware of my own mortality now that both my dad and mom have put on immortality (1 Corinthians 15:53) leaving me the oldest in the family.

Momma's Boy

As a child, some mocked me as a “momma’s boy.” They were right, of course, but they didn’t know why. They knew nothing of her unplanned pregnancy, nothing of her teenage motherhood, nothing of her impoverished and abusive shotgun marriage. They just saw her fight for a young boy to give me every opportunity both eternal and temporal.

She was over protective. Many adventures my friends with older parents were allowed to pursue I could not. She meant well but didn’t understand her acts only contributed to my reputation. On the flip side, I was rarely in trouble with other young boys or teenage guys because I was rarely out of her sight.

When Brenda and I married before my mom was forty years old, she cried so much every time we left Chicago to return to our ministry home. I understand her tears now that Brenda and I say goodbye after only a few days with our all grown up kids.

There is much to tell of God’s grace in her life - from unwed, expectant mother to faithful wife to mature Christian woman to lonely widow. Moment by moment, day by day, pain after pain, God’s grace carried her, provided for her, protected her, filled her with joy, strengthened her for labor, and sustained her faith until the end.

Still, her most intimate moments revealed a penchant to fear what lay ahead. She hid her fright behind a hard shell and a wide smile. Later, she would lament her lack of confidence in God’s care for her, citing a psalm or a text from one of the prophets where God’s provision was on display. I miss the hand written letters exhibiting the careful and beautiful strokes of a seasoned teacher. Inside the envelope was a specific reference to one of God’s limitless characteristics she found so comforting on a given day. Grace.

Until Then

So, the year has passed as it has for all who have escorted someone loved beyond description to heaven’s gate. We look around and wonder how long until he opens paradise to us. How long, Lord? How long?

Until then we wait expectantly, serve joyfully, live faithfully resting peacefully in God’s grace.

*************

Bonus material for reading this far, here’s a little bit about the LVAD machine.

LVAD stands for Left Ventricular Assist Device. It is a mechanical pump that is surgically implanted in the chest to help the heart pump blood to the rest of the body. LVAD surgery is usually performed on patients with severe heart failure, either as a bridge to transplant or as a permanent solution. The surgery involves placing the LVAD in the upper part of the abdomen, just below the heart, and attaching it to the heart’s lower chambers. The procedure usually takes 4 to 6 hours and requires open-heart surgery. The LVAD is powered by a battery and controller, which are attached to the pump via a driveline that runs through the abdominal wall. The recovery period after LVAD surgery can be long and challenging, and it requires significant lifestyle changes. However, LVADs can be lifesaving for patients with severe heart failure.

As always, thanks for reading, and I welcome your feedback and any suggestions you might have for an upcoming Lunchtime Musing.