Kingdom Harbor

Lectionary Reflection: 1 Corinthians 9:16–23

“If I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel! For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward; but if not of my own will, I am entrusted with a commission. What then is my reward? Just this: that in my proclamation I may make the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my rights in the gospel. For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings.”

Twenty years ago I joined Paul and the ancient Company of the Summoned — summoned into a life of proclaiming the good news of God’s Kingdom. I didn’t ask for this commission and I haven’t always enjoyed what this calling has demanded. I’m not asking for your pity or even sympathy, but I am asking us to ponder the lectionary text this week from 1 Corinthians 9 and respect the incredibly countercultural nature of surrendering one’s own life and future to the will of God.

In our me-centered culture that champions the pursuit of one’s own goals and aspirations and happiness, let’s remember there are strange people in our midst who, whether willingly or reluctantly, laid their personal dreams aside and said yes to a Sacred Summons. Such a holy vocation is more obvious with Roman Catholic priests and nuns and monks who take “holy orders” and whose very dress and vows of celibacy sets them apart from the rest of folks going about their lives pursuing their dreams. 

But I think there’s a kind of silent suffering and loneliness that befalls other clergy (like myself) who have made similar vows and sacrifices, but who otherwise blend into society wearing jeans and baseball caps like everyone else, marrying like everyone else, raising kids like everyone else, etc. — but who are not like everyone else because of the invisible yoke of a very particular calling that has been laid upon them.

I hesitate to make this reflection about me, and I certainly don’t want to compare my ministry efforts with the great Apostle Paul. Still, I must confess that what has kept me going in ministry for the past twenty years is precisely the audacious conviction that my surrender and service is very much the same kind of surrender that shaped Paul and the lives of the great cloud of witnesses down through the ages.  

Now, I am prone toward self-loathing and Monday morning pity-parties, staring up at my ordination certificate on the wall and wondering if its finally time to walk away from this calling and break holy vows. But I don’t detect a shred of self-loathing in Paul’s words; though he leaves no doubt that a commission was laid upon him and his life was no longer his own. Let’s consider the words of this surrendered soul bit by bit, and some of the ways I have tried to emulate the apostle.

“An obligation is laid upon me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel!” No matter how many times I hear Beuchner telling me to seek my “deep gladness” and Joseph Campbell telling me to “follow your bliss,” I have never been able to reconcile a life driven by an inner sense of bliss with Paul’s life driven by an commission laid on him by God. “Follow your heart” is a fashionable sentiment today, but the Bible warns us that our hearts often lead us away from God’s will, not toward it.

After another whipping, or stoning, or cold night in a damp prison cell, I am pretty sure it was not a feeling of inner bliss that motivated Paul to keep proclaiming the gospel. He had a divine charge and holy obligation, and “Woe to me if I do not.” While we live in a “woe IS me” culture of people complaining about how hard life can be, we don’t run into as many people with a “Woe TO me” if I don’t fulfill this or that sacred vow and binding obligation. I, too, keep getting out of bed and fulfilling my ministry because of a holy obligation, especially those days when that blissful feeling seem far away.

“For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward; but if not of my own will, I am entrusted with a commission.” I think Paul may be riffing on a “slave theology” here, saying, “Hey, if this ministry was job and my own career choice, I would be entitled to a reward, i.e., wage. But this is not a job, I am not an employee, this ministry is not of my own will; I am a slave  of Christ entrusted with a commission.” This view doesn’t jive well with modern individualists living in a free democracy. This is not a recruiting method you’ll encounter at the next job fair. But this is how Paul now saw his life: he’s “a slave of Christ Jesus, called as an apostle and singled out for God’s good news” (Rom. 1:1). And elsewhere: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” Gal. 2:20). He then tells all Christians the same uncomfortable truth: “You are not your own, for you were bought with a price” (1 Cor. 6:19-20). 

On June 27, 2015, in Kansas City, Missouri, the yoke of Christ was placed over my shoulders with the laying on of hands at the 130th Annual Meeting of the Evangelical Covenant Church. In the presence of hundreds of witnesses, I “was solemnly and publicly set apart and ordained” as I made holy vows to “faithfully preach and teach the Word of God, administer the sacraments, and serve with the love and authority of Jesus Christ.”

This was not of my own will, but the calling of God on my life. That day in Missouri I was “entrusted with a commission” and the stole placed over my shoulders that day (now hanging in my closet) continues to be a tangible reminder that I traded the pursuit of a more lucrative career and the American Dream in order to serve as a full-time slave of Christ. See photo—I’m 2nd from the left.

“For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them.” What motivates Paul’s ministry other than his deep sense of being a slave to King Jesus and “a slave to all”? I think I do detect here some inner feelings of bliss, an explosive thrill and joy in Paul’s character. He has traded in certain rights and freedoms for the joy of winning people over to Christ and using all possible means to bring them to salvation! While the word isn’t found here, Paul’s entire ministry was motivated by the love of Christ that had enraptured and rescued him, and Paul can’t envision spending his one life doing anything other than bringing Christ’s love to others. As we’ll soon see, he’ll bend and twist and flex himself in sorts of ways (“I have become all things to all people”) in order to reach all kinds of people with the good news that Christ’s Kingdom has arrived in the Messiah and they can get in on the action. While some get giddy thinking about an all-expenses paid island vacation or Mediterranean cruise, Paul’s heart did cartwheels at the thought of sailing the Mediterranean sea to bring the gospel to the islands. 

“To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law so that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law so that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some.” Again, I hesitate to compare myself to Paul, but this ability to bend and flex and paint outside the lines and think outside the ministry box and let God use every season of life and every silly job to advance God’s kingdom has been a hallmark of my ministry journey. Never quite at peace with being a stereotypical pastor leading a conventional church, my past twenty years have found me becoming lots of things to lots of people so that by all sorts of strange means I may reach some for Christ.

To the student driver, I became a driving instructor so that I might point them toward the Narrow Road to true life. To students across the metro, I became a substitute teacher so that I might shine a little light in those public schools. To the high school basketball player, I became a coach so that I might invite them to youth ministry events. To the teenage musicians, I became an organizer of open mic nights in the church basement so that I might draw teens into the eternal Dance. To those burned out on church-as-usual, I became a church planter so that I could help create a new kind of community that might draw them back. To the disillusioned college students walking away from the church, I became a professor, going into classrooms to cast a fresh vision of a more Jesus-shaped Christianity to win them back. To the spiritually homeless who don’t know where they belong, I created Kingdom Harbor to feed these scattered sheep with my writings and podcast episodes all week long. I have become a lot of things to a lot of people, and like Paul, I can only hope that “I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings.”  

Today, I marvel again at Paul’s unselfish devotion, the tenacity with which he fulfilled his ministry, his very human desire to be rewarded for all that he has sacrificed, but his resolve to conclude in the end that it’s not about getting a reward, but simply about fulfilling a holy commission and honoring a Sacred Summons. I think Pauls “Life Verse” and ministry motto might be summed up in Acts 20:24: “I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.”

As I close, let me again say I don’t want your pity or sympathy. But can I ask for you to honor and thank those in your life who have given their one life to full time service in Jesus’ army of love and grace, trying their best to advance his Kingdom of Light in what can be a very dark world. We rightly tip our hat and thank U.S. veterans for serving and protecting this earthly nation against our national enemies. Likewise, pastors and other full time Christian servants are serving day in and day out on the frontlines of a great spiritual battle and doing their best to save and protect people from the much greater Enemy of our soul. And the casualties of war are sharply on the rise among clergy. 

A recent study from Barna, a Christian research organization, showed that pastors are struggling with burnout at unprecedented levels. Barna reports that in March 2022, “the percentage of pastors who have considered quitting full-time ministry within the past year sits at 42 percent.”Tish Harrison Warren notes some reasons: 

The top reported reasons for clergy burnout were the same ones that people in the population at large face: stress, loneliness and political division. But these stressors affect pastors in a unique way. Pastors bear not only their own pain but also the weight of an entire community’s grief, divisions and anxieties. They are charged with the task of continuing to love and care for even those within their church who disagree with them vehemently and vocally. These past years required them to make decisions they were not prepared for that affected the health and spiritual formation of their community, and any decisions they made would likely mean that someone in their church would feel hurt or marginalized (“Why Pastors Are Burning Out,” August 28, 2022, The New York Times: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/08/28/opinion/pastor-burnout-pandemic.html). 

The Lord has spared me much of this pain, giving me a uniquely patient and forgiving church to shepherd. But even on the best of days in the best of seasons, a pastor still labors under a yoke that has been laid upon them. “You didn’t choose me, “Jesus says. “I chose you.” But with the help of the Spirit, this slavery becomes “sweet surrender” and Jesus transforms this Sacred Summons into an “easy yoke” and a “lighter burden” (Matt 11:28-30).  Let us honor and lift up those we know in full time ministry who are trying “to finish the race” and “complete the task” God has given them.