My mentor and professor in Bible College Michael Holt was very experienced in ministry and always had great advice, and knew many things about the intricate inner workings of Church life and policy. He was very influential on me in those years. We were talking about my desire to minister to youth pastors, and he shared this article that he had written many years ago in Youth Worker Journal. I hope it blesses you and helps you on your journey to maturity in student ministry. I know he has influenced me. Thanks Michael!
Pastors I Have Known; Lessons I Have Learned
BY MICHAEL HOLT POSTED ON OCTOBER 09 2009
Thirty years ago I entered full-time ministry energetic, excited, and naïve. I actually began as a church music director; "Minister of Music" it said on my business cards, my door, and the plaque on my desk. I'd been there about two weeks when the pastor said to me rather conspiratorially, "You know…you're the youth director." I was stunned. What did youth directors do? I was fresh out of college, prepared to lead choirs, sing solos, and get children to stand still in their cute little robes. Youth director? What a challenge!
As the years have passed, I've realized that God simply used that avenue to get me where I was supposed to be; music was fine for a while, but youth ministry changed lives. I haven't sung a solo in years and I sure don't miss those holiday pageants. I've learned some crucial truths through the years that aren't specifically about youth ministry, though they impact it substantially. In working with seven different pastors, I've realized that those you work for can have an incredible impact on how you work.
Brother Fred
Perhaps it started because I had this profound belief that pastors were men of God who could do no wrong…or not any serious wrong anyway. They always did the right thing, in the right way, with everyone's best interest in mind, even mine. They were supposed to be kind and caring towards everyone. That's probably why I couldn't believe that Brother Fred was so distant. We never had staff meetings unless it was him, me, and the secretary to talk about some big-time church function like a revival that he wanted to be sure was publicized on everything but the toilet paper.
So, dutiful staff member that I was, I would arrange everything around his schedule (he was the pastor) and hope for the best. He never commended me for anything, but he would be critical if something didn't live up to his standards, and he never explained those to me either. If I asked questions about anything, he had this funny way of arching his eyebrow, which let me know I must be a fool for asking such a question. So I quit asking, although I did spend some time in front of the mirror learning to do the eyebrow thing.
I should have been wiser, but how wise can you be when you're 22 and green? I was loyal, I was on time, and I worked long hours. The ministries I led grew, but he wasn't happy with me, I could just tell.
After about a year, he seemed particularly grumpy one day, so I just asked him what was wrong. He gave me the eyebrow so I gave it back to him. He seemed a little taken aback, so I just waited. "The church just isn't growing," he said. "I expect more out of you." "What did you expect?" I asked. He did the eyebrow thing again and replied "We should have added 20 families by now. It's been a year and that hasn't happened. The deacons and the personnel committee read a study and told me if we got another full-time staff member that we could expect growth—that families with teenagers would join. I told them it wouldn't work."
And then I understood: he'd never wanted a new staff member in the first place. Here I was all eager to learn, and he had no clue what or how to even teach me. So I said, "That's what you want? You want 20 families?"
"Yes, that's what's expected of you," he answered. So I went and sat in my office and wondered how to fulfill the job description I'd never been given.
Frankly, it didn't go well after that. I really think I got myself snagged into some kind of ministerial performance-based acceptance. After another year of seemingly frantic attempts to please Brother Fred and get twenty families, I was asked to resign because I "had not fulfilled my responsibilities." He showed up unannounced at my house after a board meeting and quietly but firmly informed me my services were no longer required. He did the eyebrow thing the whole time. But I learned some valuable lessons through that experience:
Ask more questions in the interviews.
Make sure the pastor is looking for a staff member.
Be sure of what the job expectations are, and get it in writing.
The eyebrow thing works really well with middle schoolers.
Brother Clyde
Soon, I took a position with a church in a blue-collar community—practically everyone worked at the local mill. These folks were great—they loved God and they loved us. My pastor was an enigma to me. He was fastidious about his appearance, yet had never heard of the word "tact." Once during a hospital visit with a lady who was having a "procedure," Brother Clyde asked, "What type of procedure?"
"A female procedure," she said shyly. By this time, I'm looking for the exit.
He asked, "What kind of female procedure?"
She replied "A DNC."
"What's that?" he asked.
Since I knew what that was, I gave him a slight nudge, knowing he was headed for major embarrassment. So she told him in technical terms exactly what was going to take place. He blushed crimson, asked me to pray, and we left. In the car he said, "I can't believe she told us that!"
I often wondered what he did all day. Monday through Thursday he would show up at the office after 9:00, ask me to go to the hospital with him, then we'd eat lunch at his favorite hot dog stand, where he would loudly harass the Middle-Eastern proprietor about the pornography behind the counter. He would urge the man to be saved so he wouldn't have to deal in this sinful filth and the man would smile, nod, and wait on the other customers while I ate my hot dog as quickly as possible so I could get out of there. I never said so, but I thought that my pastor might be using an ineffective method of evangelism.
After lunch, He would go home to study, which never seemed to be reflected in his sermons. He never asked me what I did, nor did he give me any guidance or accountability. On Thursday he would admonish me to be sure to visit the hospital on Friday because he had to go see his elderly mother in a neighboring town. Once I commented to his wife how kind he was to see his mother so consistently. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Are you kidding? He plays golf all day while I sit with his mother!" Then I realized why he was absolutely totally unavailable on Fridays, not for a funeral, not for anything, he was "with his mother." Would you believe he placed 3rd in the World Clergy Invitational in 1972? He retired from that church in 1998 after serving 25 faithful years; doing what, I have no idea.
Lessons learned;
Don't ask probing questions in the hospital. You might get an answer.
You can't win someone to Christ by condemning his or her lifestyle.
Most mothers don't play golf on Friday.
There's a lot to be said for just showing up Sunday through Thursday.
Brother Roy
We moved when I saw some greener grass. Brother Roy sounded positive—the church was ready for growth, my ministry would complement his, the leaders were open to change, etc. Boy, was I naïve! The church wasn't growing, the leaders weren't open to anything, and his wife, Rose, the faithful secretary who worked for free, actually ran everything. It amazed me that she could work so hard but never seem to do anything but get the bulletin together. Whenever I asked her to do anything, she was always busy.
Needing some storage space, I snooped around until I found some unopened Sunday school literature from the 1950s. Certain that it had been overlooked in some past church-wide cleanup, I was throwing it into the dumpster when she caught me. She demanded I put it back, saying it would be used eventually. When I told her that if it hadn't even been opened in 20 years it probably wasn't very valuable, I thought she was going to have a breakdown. She actually began to stammer and went into her office and slammed the door. I felt like reminding her that I was the minister and she was the secretary, but I thought that might push her over the edge. The next day, her husband, my pastor, took me off into a distant classroom and very gently told me that I must be very careful with her—that she worked very hard and that people really appreciated her and I had hurt her feelings badly. When I asked him exactly what I had done to hurt her feelings, he said he couldn't quite say, but I had. I began to realize something was really wrong, but remember I was naïve.
Brother Roy and Rose had adopted a son who had major problems; they were constantly making excuses for his behavior and paying his speeding tickets, and I knew from the kids in the youth group that he was headed for trouble. Once when I tried to offer some youth minister advice, he quickly changed the subject, then later said to be sure not to mention anything to his wife about the boy. We had a famous evangelist come to speak and my pastor put him in the dumpiest motel in town. He even deceived the congregation about the offering we received for our guest, saying to me, "My wife said we couldn't give him that much! She said we need to be more frugal."
One of the last straws was the day I called our office supplier; the clerk sarcastically said "Shall we bring it out to the curb?"
What do you mean?" I asked.
"Your secretary always has us bring it to the curb so she doesn't have to put a penny in the parking meter."
"No, I'll be glad to come in for it." Which I did, very humbly muttering our church name to the clerk and hoping no one recognized me. I learned some great lessons there:
Naivete is a great quality, if you can afford it.
If the pastor's wife is in charge, you probably don't want to work there.
Frugal is a nice sounding way to say tightwad.
If you're embarrassed to mention your church in public, you definitely don't want to work there.
Brother Don
The famous evangelist took a liking to me and recommended me to a church in another state. Talk about greener grass, it was five times bigger, had a TV ministry, and was even closer to the grandparents. Unfortunately, the salary was the same. We bought a house, had lots of youth workers helping out, and I could snap my fingers and have 100 kids at just about anything. The pastor was incredible; older, wiser, very fatherly, always giving me advice and insight into people and situations. After a year, I attended a national youth pastor's conference and was introduced to the biblical concept of discipleship. I asked the Lord to give me three Timothys.
Noting that I was often gone from the office, Brother Don asked me in staff meeting where I was spending my afternoons. "Discipling Eddie M., Eddie H., and Jimmy K.," I told him. When he inquired as to what that meant, I explained the concept of investing my life into others that they might do the same and so on. He looked puzzled and then said we were starting a discipleship program and I shouldn't be wasting my time with those boys. "Really?" I said.
"Oh yes," he replied. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a charm bracelet with twelve profiles hanging from it. "See this? Next month, we start a Sunday school campaign on the Twelve Disciples. If you come to Sunday school twelve weeks in a row, you'll get a charm for each disciple."
Not yet having learned the art of keeping my mouth shut, I blurted out "And you call that discipleship?"
"Why certainly," he replied. And we went on with business.
Later, he summoned me to his office and chewed me out. "Who did you think you are, questioning my authority and my leadership?" He shouted. Then he pulled out my job description, threw it at me, and told me to go over it, determining what I wasn't doing. When I asked when he wanted it back, he snapped, "No hurry!" and turned away. I went to my office, worked on my job description, made sure I was doing all of it, and then wrote in the extra things I was doing that weren't on it. Leaving it on his secretary's desk, I went home and told my wife about my interesting day.
The next morning he was waiting for me. The veins in his neck were bulging and his baldhead turned red. He was actually rather scary, accusing me of insubordination and of turning the youth against him. I apologized for things I'd never even thought of, trying to figure out exactly what it was I'd done wrong. It was downhill from there; a few weeks later, there was a secret board meeting (no one who was involved in ministry with me was there, incidentally). The next day I was fired, given a check for one month's pay, and basically ordered off the property.
The next Sunday, it was announced that I'd been dismissed for "failure to fulfill my responsibilities." I was devastated. This was the first ministry that I felt like I had actually made a difference in some students' lives. My reputation, my integrity, and my future in ministry all seemed wrecked. Plus we were pretty much broke. I learned some hard lessons:
The grass is never really greener over there.
Never trust anyone until they've proven trustworthy.
Biblical convictions must never be compromised, even if they get you fired.
Unemployment compensation covers fired ministers in some states.
Brother Jim
After four months, a church finally hired me. When we'd been forced to sell our house, the lawyer at the closing recognized me from the television ministry and asked what had happened. When I told him, he encouraged me to sue. "You'd win easy," he said. "Not an option," I replied and moved my wife, my son, and my broken heart to a small inner-city church stuck somewhere in the 1950s.
I've never made a move without some sense of God's leadership, but this became a mess. Brother Jim was very concerned for his flock, especially the senior adults. His wife had to be the center of everything, constantly reminding us of her cultured upbringing. Brother Jim was always trying to get me to come to useless meetings. When I asked him why he went to the useless meetings, he said, "I want to keep my job!"
The leading members talked endlessly about the good old days when the church was flourishing. Most of those doing the talking had been born and raised in the neighborhood, but had fled to the suburbs as the area had changed. They faithfully drove into town to their lovely old sanctuary and did everything they could to keep it an inviting place. At my request, they even put up a basketball goal in the parking lot for the students. They bought a bus for us to take youth trips.
They couldn't have been more supportive until I asked to use the bus for ministry to a local orphanage. The board refused my request. When I asked why, the chairman said, "Well Brother Michael, you know some of those kids might offend our members."
For a moment I couldn't grasp his logic. Then I realized what he meant; "You mean that those kids aren't welcome at our church because some of them aren't white?" I asked incredulously! Brother Jim just stood there saying nothing. He really did want to keep his job. I resigned. Several of the members tried to get me to say that Brother Jim had driven me off, but that wasn't true. My own sense of justice had driven me away. I've never been back, but I sure learned some valuable lessons:
Spend lots of time in the interview process focusing on the pastor's wife's body language.
Don't accept a church bus with limitations.
Keeping your job is seldom worth it.
C. J.
After a brief para-church venture I landed at another mega-church as part of a multi-staff youth ministry team. The pastor seemed to be a real visionary and took me under his wing. One day he said, "After me, you're the most effective staff member we have." Man, that felt good, especially after my previous experiences. I was his loyal follower until the fatal staff retreat. He wanted our opinions on the key to spiritual growth in our church. After much prayer, I told him that he was the key; that we as a staff would follow his lead and the folks in the pews would follow suit; if he was seeking God, it would filter down—sounded pretty biblical to me. In front of the entire staff, he said, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"
Several of the staff warned me I was in trouble but I can be determined, even stubborn. I checked my attitude, made sure I was doing my job, and waited. Before long the personnel committee asked for my resignation. When I asked for a reason, they couldn't give me one. I said, "Give me a reason and I'll resign."
Growth had led to major parking problems, so the staff was required to park at a nearby mall. One Sunday after the service, I came out to the car to find my wife sobbing. Our 8-year-old son was severely disabled, and we had a handicap sticker allowing us to use the disability spaces. On our car was a hand written note signed by C.J. stating that "staff were forbidden to use the parking lot!" I was enraged! I plotted his murder! I would firebomb his house. I thought of hundreds of ways to do him in.
Over the next several weeks, I became so ill with bitterness that I was hospitalized. Finally I asked God to forgive me, then went to my pastor and discretely confessed my bad attitude, asking his forgiveness. (I didn't say I had planned to kill him, thinking that imprudent.) He warned me to watch myself, that I was headed for trouble. Within the year, I resigned, knowing I couldn't work under those conditions. I took a job pumping gas at a service station. Talk about lessons:
Watch out for smooth talking pastors.
Telling the truth can get you into serious trouble.
Murder is not an option.
Brother Joe
I was done with ministry. We joined a church across town and I pumped gas; it was one of the happiest times of my life. Then Brother Joe asked me if I would consider the church's part-time youth position. I reluctantly agreed, and the ministry exploded. Just like God to do that to me; at least the gas station didn't explode! After 3 months, Brother Joe said the board wanted me to come full-time. I was pretty gun shy, but I agreed. Brother Joe was a very unusual man, very earthy, but also very godly. We moved into a very nice church-owned home and began to work in earnest.
Soon Brother Joe asked me why my wife was not returning his wife's phone calls. "I think she's afraid to; she's been hurt by lots of pastor's wives," I replied. A few days later Joe called me into his office where I found my wife, looking rather surprised. Then Joe opened the back door of his office and his wife Joyce entered. Everyone sat down and he prayed something like; "Father, we know Michael and Jane have been hurt by lots of people. Show them that we only mean them good. Amen." Then Joyce explained to Jane that she was sorry for all that had happened to her, and that she couldn't fix that, but that she was a minister's wife who needed friends and she couldn't think of a friend that she'd rather have than Jane. Jane cried. Joyce cried. I cried. Joe said "Amen". The women went out to lunch to celebrate their new friendship. Joyce treated for lunch and as they shopped afterwards, she bought my wife a very nice dress that wasn't on sale.
We had a church van that I used for youth events, sometimes taking students out by just grabbing the keys and leaving. I got back from one such spontaneous trip to find Joe waiting for me. "Did you take the van during lunch today?" he asked.
"Sure," I replied. "I took a group of kids out to lunch. We had a blast!"
"And did you tell the secretary when you got the keys; 'Sometimes it's better to ask forgiveness than permission?'"
Thinking fast, I muttered something like "I might have said something like that."
Joe's response was, "So you didn't notice that the bus was signed out for the senior adult trip?"
"Guess not," I said with my winningest grin. He took me into his office, dressed me down, and told me I was a 'Jacob,' a manipulator, and that I should be fired. Then he told me he was willing to work with me, to help me get this defect out of my character if I would submit to his direction. Thinking the option was termination, I agreed. For a year, he spent time with me, working on my character. I became a changed man, no longer a manipulator. Joe loved me enough not to fire me when I deserved it.
Our disabled son Jonathan got sick and spent several days in the hospital. After we'd been there around the clock for 3 days, Joe and Joyce showed up one night and announced that they would spend the night with Jonathan, that we were to go home and get some rest. When we protested, he said, "That's an order." So we went home and cried ourselves to sleep, unable to believe that we were loved so much.
I served at that church almost six years before God put me on the road as a speaker. Leaving my students was hard; leaving my leadership team was harder; leaving Joe almost killed me. I've met very few men for whom I would gladly lay down my life. Joe is the most godly man I've ever met. He's the kindest man I've ever met. He restored my hope in pastors. Today I'm going over to his house to help him set up his computer, and I'd gladly do anything within my power for him. Lessons, you ask?
God has agents everywhere. We just have to wait for them to show up sometimes.
God has an agenda and a schedule, and they're not mine.
Quality by its very nature is rare. Quality men and women are even more rare.
Suffering is usually worth what it costs to learn the lesson.
One Joe is worth all the other pastors I've known.
2. Be honest with your sexuality: This applies to you and communication with your spouse, but you also have to have someone in your life that you can talk about this with. If you do not then you are only on a destructive pattern. It is a lie to say that we are not sexual beings and that we do not or should not have sex drives. God made sex for our pleasure, and for us to reflect Christ's love for the Church. Please be honest about this and talk with your partner about it. My wife and I recently are talking more and more about what we appreciate and do not appreciate in our sexual lives. We are being honest with each other, and we are growing in great ways in this area. Because of it we are growing to love each other more deeply. You also need to be able to talk honestly with outside people. There are things that guys can share that are just not appropriate in the marriage relationship. Sometimes you need to gripe, sometimes you just need to dump what is in your heart, and sometimes the dark stuff in a man's heart might be too much for your wife. I know that it is sometimes too much for my wife, so I encourage that mentor, discipler, friend, accountability partner, or someone who pushes you on to holiness. Please do just that with each other...Push each other on to holiness...If God does then we should too.
