To Encourage Workers
Judas and Silas, who themselves were prophets, said much to encourage and strengthen the brothers.
- Acts 15:32
1966 – Ah, now that was a year – Ford had released the Mustang just two years earlier – mini-skirts were starting to become popular – the Vietnam peacekeeping mission was gearing up for full-scale war – and I was ready to graduate from high school.
The whole world lay in front of me – choices abounded. I had been offered a full-time job as a draftsman at a local engineering firm, my Godfather offered to pay for my college education, and I could turn my part-time job at the factory into a full-time job at any time. I had a 1951 flathead 8, Ford, and the whole world was mine to take.
As I contemplated my future, I sorted out the choices. My part-time job consisted of working for Johns-Manville building products in the transit pipe division. I had worked maintenance, manufacturing, and shipping. Each assignment gave me money, but no stimulation. Beside, I was tired of brushing off the asbestos from my clothes each night after shift. So, that was not an option.
The draftsman job had much appeal. It offered money, advancement, no asbestos and a chance to use my gift of drawing. My high school drafting teacher had recommended me for the position and it was mine for the taking. But, was it really what I wanted to do?
I remembered Mrs. Singenberger, my sixth grade teacher. She gave me confidence, pride in school work and coached me into getting “C’s” in spelling. She cared for me as more than a student – a number in her grade book. She drove me to basketball games when my parents could not. She gave me an “A” when I deserved a “B” so that Mom would be proud of me and I would be proud of me. I thought – I could get money and work with kids – how cool would that be? So I applied to Northern Illinois University to become a teacher. I had been accepted and the future looked good.
Thus was my frame of mind as I walked down the church aisle one Sunday morning after services. Life was good. Just then Pastor Swanson put his arm around my shoulder, hugged me, and spoke life-changing words, “You would make a good Pastor.”
The words echoed in my mind as he walked away. “You would make a good pastor.” How could that be? Why? He must be kidding.
He was serious. Many a Sunday afternoon was spent exploring the possible traits I possessed that would make me a good Pastor. I pondered. I prayed. I took long drives to argue with the Lord. Finally, God and I came to a compromise. I decided that the three main traits every good Pastor needed was 1. give a good speech, 2. teach, and 3. be an administrator. So God and I agreed that I would make application to Concordia Teachers College to become a teacher, majoring in speech, with the goal of being a principal. When I mastered all three of the key traits I would attend the seminary and replace Pastor Swanson in the pulpit
I was accepted into Concordia – majored in speech and drama, became a teacher, and took my first Call as a Principal/teacher. My bride and I took over a two-room school and had a ball. I got to play with kids, got to read the teacher’s guide, and even was paid. Life was good – I was a Professional Church Worker – yes, my small salary elevated me out of the amateur rankings and gave me “Professional” status. I was happy.
After 35 years I still am a Professional Church Worker, still a Principal/teacher. Along the way I gave up the goal of becoming ordained and am very happy to be commissioned – no vote meant no mail and no pressure – district and Synodical conventions are fun.
Along the way I have taken a few detours – opting out of the classroom, getting back to it, but always happy to be a church worker.
However, happy is a relative term. The longer I am in ministry, the more discouragements come my way. Parents demand perfection from an imperfect child, an imperfect teacher, and an imperfect system. Board members still expect workers to balance the budget with their salaries, but increase work load expectations. Children push back and move lines – all the time smiling as they know they have power at home, so they fear no teacher. State officials try to cure society’s problems with lofty sounding legislation, not accounting for the teachers who must enforce arbitrary rules. Church members expect teachers to be involved in the life of the church – every day and twice on Sundays.
Lest one should receive the wrong impression, I am happier being commissioned. I have seen too many of my ordained brothers flayed alive at public meetings – berated for not being responsive to ministry needs, not being inspiring, not taking enough time away from family.
Add to the public persona, I must deal with the private person, the person that hurts, grieves, that has walked through the valley of the shadow of death, both personally and with family members. I get mad, angry – at lack of time with my family. I am tempted – to sin – to turn from God and say, “I need this, God, can’t you see that?” I struggle with finances – watching others drive better cars, wear better clothes, take better vacations. I suffer from guilt – I can’t meet my family’s needs – my needs – God why don’t you just take me home?
So I crawl into bed at night, snuggle with my wife and pray. As the prayer unwinds, my frustration, my anger, my bitterness melts away. As I listen to my wife’s heart talking to God, I weep tears of repentance, tears of joy, tears of remorse and determination.
I thank God that He has Called me. He does sustain me. He gives to me that which I need for the day – no less, always more. He loves me with a love I can only comprehend through the power of the Holy Spirit. He loves me so much that He sent His Son to bear that which was meant for me. The suffering, the pain, the humiliation I may suffer on this earth pales in comparison to that which Jesus suffered for me – individually and personally on the cross of Golgotha – a cross meant for me. The hope of heaven replaces the despair of hell. He quiets my heart – my mind and I sleep.
The alarm startles – rouses me from the arms of her whom I love. I am called to a new day of service. I thank God for another day of ministry. He is there – He says to me, “Go get them, you can do it.”
The day unfolds and I rejoice in victories – babies baptized – adults brought to their knees at the communion rail – Kindergarteners who “rock the house for Jesus” as they shout out the Lord’s Prayer – praying for the students – praying for my brothers and sisters in ministry – even mailing a form to the district is counted as a minor miracle and a victory.
Professional Church Workers face discouragement on a heavenly level. If they fail, a soul can be lost to heaven. Professional Church Workers need love, prayers, patience, and an infusion of the Holy Spirit. But most of they need to be celebrated!
I celebrate my fellow commissioned brothers and sisters – I celebrate my ordained brothers – I celebrate the deaconesses, the youth workers, the parish assistants, the music ministers, all those who answer as did Samuel, “Speak Lord, Thy servant heareth.”
Let us be the Judas and Silas who speak to the church workers in our congregation – let us speak words of encouragement – words that will strengthen, uplift, comfort and bring joy.
Let us also be the Judas and Silas who can speak words of encouragement to those church workers still in training. Let us seek out a future pastor or teacher and lay our hands on a shoulder with the words, you would make a good pastor – you would make a good teacher, you would make a great deaconess, parish nurse, DCE – you would make an awesome church worker.
Please celebrate with me.
- Acts 15:32
1966 – Ah, now that was a year – Ford had released the Mustang just two years earlier – mini-skirts were starting to become popular – the Vietnam peacekeeping mission was gearing up for full-scale war – and I was ready to graduate from high school.
The whole world lay in front of me – choices abounded. I had been offered a full-time job as a draftsman at a local engineering firm, my Godfather offered to pay for my college education, and I could turn my part-time job at the factory into a full-time job at any time. I had a 1951 flathead 8, Ford, and the whole world was mine to take.
As I contemplated my future, I sorted out the choices. My part-time job consisted of working for Johns-Manville building products in the transit pipe division. I had worked maintenance, manufacturing, and shipping. Each assignment gave me money, but no stimulation. Beside, I was tired of brushing off the asbestos from my clothes each night after shift. So, that was not an option.
The draftsman job had much appeal. It offered money, advancement, no asbestos and a chance to use my gift of drawing. My high school drafting teacher had recommended me for the position and it was mine for the taking. But, was it really what I wanted to do?
I remembered Mrs. Singenberger, my sixth grade teacher. She gave me confidence, pride in school work and coached me into getting “C’s” in spelling. She cared for me as more than a student – a number in her grade book. She drove me to basketball games when my parents could not. She gave me an “A” when I deserved a “B” so that Mom would be proud of me and I would be proud of me. I thought – I could get money and work with kids – how cool would that be? So I applied to Northern Illinois University to become a teacher. I had been accepted and the future looked good.
Thus was my frame of mind as I walked down the church aisle one Sunday morning after services. Life was good. Just then Pastor Swanson put his arm around my shoulder, hugged me, and spoke life-changing words, “You would make a good Pastor.”
The words echoed in my mind as he walked away. “You would make a good pastor.” How could that be? Why? He must be kidding.
He was serious. Many a Sunday afternoon was spent exploring the possible traits I possessed that would make me a good Pastor. I pondered. I prayed. I took long drives to argue with the Lord. Finally, God and I came to a compromise. I decided that the three main traits every good Pastor needed was 1. give a good speech, 2. teach, and 3. be an administrator. So God and I agreed that I would make application to Concordia Teachers College to become a teacher, majoring in speech, with the goal of being a principal. When I mastered all three of the key traits I would attend the seminary and replace Pastor Swanson in the pulpit
I was accepted into Concordia – majored in speech and drama, became a teacher, and took my first Call as a Principal/teacher. My bride and I took over a two-room school and had a ball. I got to play with kids, got to read the teacher’s guide, and even was paid. Life was good – I was a Professional Church Worker – yes, my small salary elevated me out of the amateur rankings and gave me “Professional” status. I was happy.
After 35 years I still am a Professional Church Worker, still a Principal/teacher. Along the way I gave up the goal of becoming ordained and am very happy to be commissioned – no vote meant no mail and no pressure – district and Synodical conventions are fun.
Along the way I have taken a few detours – opting out of the classroom, getting back to it, but always happy to be a church worker.
However, happy is a relative term. The longer I am in ministry, the more discouragements come my way. Parents demand perfection from an imperfect child, an imperfect teacher, and an imperfect system. Board members still expect workers to balance the budget with their salaries, but increase work load expectations. Children push back and move lines – all the time smiling as they know they have power at home, so they fear no teacher. State officials try to cure society’s problems with lofty sounding legislation, not accounting for the teachers who must enforce arbitrary rules. Church members expect teachers to be involved in the life of the church – every day and twice on Sundays.
Lest one should receive the wrong impression, I am happier being commissioned. I have seen too many of my ordained brothers flayed alive at public meetings – berated for not being responsive to ministry needs, not being inspiring, not taking enough time away from family.
Add to the public persona, I must deal with the private person, the person that hurts, grieves, that has walked through the valley of the shadow of death, both personally and with family members. I get mad, angry – at lack of time with my family. I am tempted – to sin – to turn from God and say, “I need this, God, can’t you see that?” I struggle with finances – watching others drive better cars, wear better clothes, take better vacations. I suffer from guilt – I can’t meet my family’s needs – my needs – God why don’t you just take me home?
So I crawl into bed at night, snuggle with my wife and pray. As the prayer unwinds, my frustration, my anger, my bitterness melts away. As I listen to my wife’s heart talking to God, I weep tears of repentance, tears of joy, tears of remorse and determination.
I thank God that He has Called me. He does sustain me. He gives to me that which I need for the day – no less, always more. He loves me with a love I can only comprehend through the power of the Holy Spirit. He loves me so much that He sent His Son to bear that which was meant for me. The suffering, the pain, the humiliation I may suffer on this earth pales in comparison to that which Jesus suffered for me – individually and personally on the cross of Golgotha – a cross meant for me. The hope of heaven replaces the despair of hell. He quiets my heart – my mind and I sleep.
The alarm startles – rouses me from the arms of her whom I love. I am called to a new day of service. I thank God for another day of ministry. He is there – He says to me, “Go get them, you can do it.”
The day unfolds and I rejoice in victories – babies baptized – adults brought to their knees at the communion rail – Kindergarteners who “rock the house for Jesus” as they shout out the Lord’s Prayer – praying for the students – praying for my brothers and sisters in ministry – even mailing a form to the district is counted as a minor miracle and a victory.
Professional Church Workers face discouragement on a heavenly level. If they fail, a soul can be lost to heaven. Professional Church Workers need love, prayers, patience, and an infusion of the Holy Spirit. But most of they need to be celebrated!
I celebrate my fellow commissioned brothers and sisters – I celebrate my ordained brothers – I celebrate the deaconesses, the youth workers, the parish assistants, the music ministers, all those who answer as did Samuel, “Speak Lord, Thy servant heareth.”
Let us be the Judas and Silas who speak to the church workers in our congregation – let us speak words of encouragement – words that will strengthen, uplift, comfort and bring joy.
Let us also be the Judas and Silas who can speak words of encouragement to those church workers still in training. Let us seek out a future pastor or teacher and lay our hands on a shoulder with the words, you would make a good pastor – you would make a good teacher, you would make a great deaconess, parish nurse, DCE – you would make an awesome church worker.
Please celebrate with me.
