Confessions of a Reforming Recluse

I’m standing in the hallway on the sixth floor of the Frank-Crowley Courts Building in Dallas. I am patiently waiting with about 90 other potential jurors. Some people are standing. Some are sitting on the few benches provided by the interior designers. Some people are sitting on the floor.

Many people have electronic devices to occupy themselves. Some people brought a book to read--they have obviously been in this position before. Others spoke quietly to friends they happened to see there by the coincidences of the randomized juror selection process. I am spending most of my time standing and sometimes typing notes into my phone about an idea for something to write.

I'm used to being a recluse

The mood is somber. There are no signs telling us to keep quiet, there is simply the situation. Some fidget. One or two men are pacing the floor. I find myself looking around at everyone. I am not great with people, but when I am in a crowd I do not feel comfortable unless I make at least glancing eye-contact with most of or all the people in the room. I don’t know why I am like this. 

I also do a lot of thinking during those times I find myself in a crowd. I think about all kinds of things. I think about the people sitting. I think about the men who are perfectly capable of standing to allow a lady to sit in their places. Then my mind goes back to a time when Karla was pregnant and I went to the doctor with her almost two decades ago. I became engrossed in a sports magazine and tuned out the world around me. Reality escaped and, though my body sat in the room, I was transported to another place. Before I left on this journey there was no one in the waiting room. Karla had gone into the doctor’s room for her check up. So I went away--at least mentally.

I was brought back to reality with a tap on my shoulder. One of the friendly nurses was talking to me. She asked if I would mind giving up my seat for a pregnant lady. My confusion morphed into dread because, to my horror, I was surrounded by pregnant women. They were all unconcerned at my presence, but I remember how surprised I was that I could become so engrossed in my thoughts that I would not even notice others around me. As realization of my situation dawned on me, I saw several women in the doorway. I could feel their eyes burrowing into mine. They were probably not angry, but I was sure they were at the time. Maybe the source of the heat I felt was not the heat of their anger but the heat of my own blood as it rushed to my face in embarrassed reaction. I was mortified. And I was clearly in the wrong.

I always think about that when I see men sitting when women should be allowed to sit. I marvel at the insensitivity and at the same time realize that those men are not even there. They are some place else, as I was while waiting in the doctor’s waiting area.

When I’m in a crowd I begin to think--and that is not always a good thing. I wonder what everyone around me must be thinking about me. I know in my mind that no one cares to watch my every move. There is just no reason to imagine they would look twice at me. Perhaps I have delusions of self-importance. Some people have suggested as much in the past. All I know is that if I were so “self-important” why would I get so flustered with the idea that people are looking at me and judging what they see? There is an important reason that I stand in corners and against walls while in public, and the reason certainly is not because I have delusions of grandeur!

Now I find myself in middle of a room, surrounded by people I have never met, and because of the nature of the situation, I’m at the center of the hallway. There is no room in the corner or against the walls. I had a great spot leaning against a pillar, but just a few minutes ago I started to feel bad because the ladies around me standing up must surely also be tired. Perhaps it was my turn to stand somewhere else and let one of them lean against the pillar. That sounds chauvinistic to many, I’m sure, but it actually comes from a place of deep respect. I don’t think women are weak and inferior or cannot stand for an hour or two. I just believe in showing honor to them. This was part of my process of thinking. I do this thinking a lot while in crowds. Now I find myself in middle of the hallways, surrounded by people along the walls and leaning against the pillars. (There are probably ten of us who don’t have a place along a wall or pillar.)

As I stand here, I can’t decide what to do with my hands. For some strange reason I am very concerned with what people think of me folding my arms at my chest. I remember hearing someone say that this is a sign that I have something to hide. I don’t want people to think I am closed off. I also heard someone once say that folding the arms can be a sign of anger. So I put my hands in the pockets of my slacks. 

The pose I now hold is also saying something to the people around me. Do I want them to see me as afraid to be in front of a group? Wouldn’t I rather want them to see me as strong and confident? After all, hands in the pockets are a sure sign of insecurity. Or does it say I am unsure of what to do with my hands? Maybe it says I am too casual.

I took my hands from my pockets and am now fidgeting with my fingers. But this is a sign of nervousness. What do I have to be nervous about? As I look around to my right I see a man staring at me. He is likely staring past me, or maybe does not realize what he is doing, but his eye-contact does not break when we look at each other. I look back and wonder if my body language somehow made him think I was a threat. I looked to the other side and a woman’s eyes made contact with mine and she quickly looked away. Was she also thinking I was a threat? Surely not. But it certainly made me rethink my pose. At this point that is the only word for it: “pose”. There is nothing natural about my body language anymore--and this point does not escape my thoughts.

I put my hands to my sides outside the pockets in a position that I can only define as neutral. This makes me aware that I am the only person in the room standing that way. “Why am I standing at attention as if I were military?” I’m obviously not military. I’m fat and old. But as I stand with equal weight on my feet and hands to my side, I remember that I was taught that this is the right way to stand. It shows that I am ready and confident. But ready for what?

Now people must be seeing me as a person ready to strike. This pose is too assertive. Maybe if I keep my hands to my side but lean my weight onto one leg...

Why do I care what others think about my “pose”? Why am I concerned with what my body language says to fellow jurors? I don’t know, but this is the way things are. 

And now I realize something important. I had been thinking about ways I can keep people from looking at me as nervous or looking at me in other negative ways. I realize now that I have a choice to make. I can hold myself in a way that makes me look closed to others, or I can hold myself in a way that makes me look open to others. I imagined what that would be like. Maybe instead of putting my hands to my side I could hold them out to others in a handshake, or put one on someone’s shoulder while greeting him. This seems to be a much better use of my hands!

I can show myself to be self-centered or people-centered. 

I want to be a people person, but my habits make me less than that--including this habit of wondering what my body language says to others. So I asked myself, “In this situation, with all these people around, what would Jesus do?”

That is a dangerous question to ask. It is dangerous for me because I know at least part of the answer was that Jesus would at least try to get to know some people so He might have the opportunity to teach them later. For a man who has difficulty meeting others, this is a scary thought.

I put aside my paranoid feelings and my normal self-criticism and critiquing and leaned toward a man standing next to me and made a comment to break the ice. When I did that, the criticism fell away and for the rest of the day I did not think about my body language except for a few very brief moments when it was appropriate. I stopped worrying about what people were thinking about me and started to consider their own lives and feelings.

Jesus can make you what you ought to be. His life shows us the way. If we live like Him, we will be much better people. He can make you whole. He can make you normal. In fact, when you begin to follow His example and put others before yourself, you will notice a lot of your problems do not seem like problems anymore. 

I made a few friends while spending a day at the court building. I helped people get out of their own shells. I even got to talk to people about church. The self-criticism, the paranoia, the endless chatter about myself melted away because I took the time to think about someone besides me.

Maybe I’m becoming a “people-person” after all. Maybe you can become one too.

What Does A Preacher DO?

A Beginning Discussion

What does a preacher do?

What is the role of the preacher? This may seem like a simple question, but the answer determines values, goals, and priorities that must be set. Without a Clear understanding of the answer, all goals and priorities are guesses at best.

First we must determine who sets the role? There are three possible origins for the role: the preacher, the congregations who “hire” the preacher, and God. While most (if not all) would say that God is the one who determines the role of the preacher, let's not be too hasty. There is a difference between the ideal and the practical. We all know that God should be the one to determine that role since He is the one who created the system and need for preachers. He is the final authority. But He did not spell every detail out for us. We must make some decisions about the work. We have that freedom as long as those activities fall within the parameters established by God. So after God, who decides what a preacher does in his day-to-day activities?

Maybe it's just me, but I have a difficult problem grasping what I am supposed to be doing sometimes. When there is a sea of possibilities, how does a preacher determine what he should accomplish? This question has been persistent in my work. I have tried many things. I have accomplished some things and failed at others, but often I arrive at the same question: "Is this really what I need to spend my time doing?" Some preachers seem to have it all figured out. I am not one of them.

Basic Expectations

Obviously there are some basic expectations of preachers. They should prepare and deliver sermons and Bible classes. They should visit the sick and those who are unable to attend worship. Generally, we preachers exist to help the church grow. One question I have is, “Is that all?” (That is not a flippant question. I just want to make sure that I do ALL of my work, not just part of it.) 

When I think of what it means to “help the church grow” I begin to wonder if a more vague understanding of a role could exist. This perplexing statement at once states everything and nothing. After all, is it not God who causes the growth of the church? Do I really think I am going to cause growth?

Considering the broad definition of “helping the church grow” can be mind-boggling. In essence, it is nothing less than stating that the role of the preacher is to make sure every person in the community, county, state, or world—as many people as he can possibly impact—makes it to heaven. The amount of work indicated in such an innocent phrase cannot even begin to be explained.

I have enough trouble making sure I am spiritually right and going in the right direction. I cannot possibly hope to fulfill such a large role! So this broad perspective serves only to cause me to come back to the same question—what's my practical function here?

Getting Practical

There is no question that preachers have the role of helping the church grow, but (as I tried to point out above) that is simply too much to contemplate. It is not that the task is so large that it terrifies me to contemplate. I know that God does not expect me to save everyone, only to do what I can do to bring about the most good for the most people—and even that is too generic. I have no problem looking at the vast ocean of possibilities and responsibilities that come with preaching because I know that all Christians are in the same position and role. I also know that GOD is the One who is in control. I am just helping where I can. It's not the SIZE of the task but knowing where it will be better to join in the work that gets to me.

Location and Impact

So, after thinking about this, one way of bringing some order to the chaos is to look at the location of the preacher. Obviously, a preacher can help people in any place, and no preacher worth his salt would refuse to help someone simply because of that person's location. But that person's location might prevent a preacher from helping him simply because he must prioritize in order to bring some order to the chaos.

Now, looking at all the possible actions in a given area does not help much in defining the role of the preacher, but it does help a little. And the question of role takes on new meaning at this point. How does a man decide the geographical impact of his work? I am not considering the decision a man makes when determining what congregation to work with at this point. That is a completely different problem that must also be considered in light of financial, familial, and other needs.

The question at hand centers upon his impact in the place he lives and works. Does the preacher focus on the members of the congregation? If so, how will people outside the church be brought to God? What about Christians in the same area who happen to attend other congregations? Does he have responsibilities toward them? Within the preacher's home congregation, unless it is a very small group, he would still make some tough decisions. Who should I spend my time with? Should I spend my time with the weak? How about the strong so that they do not become weak? What about the sick? How much help and support is enough for each person? Do we ever get to the point that we do not need continued encouragement? What about time for study and preparation for sermons?

The list of questions like those above are seemingly endless. And the question returns: What is the role of the preacher?

God's Wisdom

Generically we know that God is the author of preaching. It becomes obvious, however, that He left many decisions to be made. This is not a fault of God. Instead, it shows His wisdom in many ways.

If a preacher struggles with and decides upon his role, he will appreciate the tasks. They will be HIS tasks and therefore much more likely to be accomplished.

Additionally, everyone is different and in different situations; therefore, each preacher's work will be different. God's guidelines allow the greatest freedom to operate without losing sight of the overall work God expects.

Based on these ideas, the importance of understanding a preacher's role is even greater. We can see that personality, desires, ability, opportunity, and even congregational needs all play a part in defining the preacher's role.

Considering Both Sides

Considering the question about the origins of the role shows us that the preacher and the congregation he works with must work together to define and understand the role of the preacher based on the above criteria (and more).

Does the church have a right to expect certain activities from the preacher? They do not have  any more right to expect certain activities from him than he has in determining what actions he thinks God would have him take. The needs of the congregation are important. Those reasons are what led them to invite the man to live and work with them. Ideally, a congregation could expect a man to perform every function they intended and do it in the exact ways they desired, that is, if preachers had no rights.

The role of preachers, from God's general instructions, is to preach the word. That entails many things beyond the mere delivery of sermons. It entails study, practice of delivery, and skill development. It includes making a connection with the audience—something that can only be done by building relationships and reputation. And how does a preacher build relationships and his reputation with others in the congregation?

He is also to be evangelistic. How can a preacher hope to teach the church to be evangelistic (2 Timothy 2:2) if he is not evangelistic? How can he be a preacher if he is not preaching to the lost and building those relationships? As John Maxwell once stated, “The greater the impact you want to make, the greater your influence needs to be.” How can a preacher hope to impact the community if he is not allowed time to build those relationships?

On the other hand, how can a preacher accept support from a congregation and say that they have no right to ask him to do anything? Is that reasonable? If they called for a preacher to come, chances are they have needs. Those people have much greater ability to know their own needs than the preacher does. Yes, they need the Gospel, but what parts? How should it be delivered? Preaching is more than saying words in a pulpit. It is about impacting lives.

Concluding Thoughts

The obvious conclusion is that the preacher AND the church leaders should discuss and agree upon the roles the preacher will play. That may be something that must be flexible. It may need review from time to time to reassess priorities. Those decisions may be left to the preacher a great deal—and he should be given the flexibility to meet the many demands of the preacher's work. But the church must be involved.

It is not fair to either side to set the role without the input of the other. It is also not fair for either side to set the role in a generic fashion. Just because the last preacher did something is not necessarily a good reason for the next one to do it.

All in all, determining a preacher's role is not an easy task, but an important one. Preachers and congregations might get along well without ever finding time to discuss these things formally. I can imagine that many preachers will have little trouble with this, especially if the church is not demanding. There is, however, a fine line between “not being demanding” and being apathetic. The preacher and the congregation will benefit greatly by having a clear understanding of roles so that goals and objectives can be administered effectively.