There can be a strange vibe of secrecy surrounding a pastor’s move to a different church. I am not speaking from statistics, but from my experience in the evangelical Baptist world. A pastor’s current congregation, minus a select few, is often unaware of and not involved in the process until the day they hear their beloved pastor announce his resignation and intent to move.
I wonder if there is a better way?
Recently, I read Leslie Tarr’s biography of T. T. Shields, Shields of Canada, and the recently published book, Long May Thy Servant Feed Thy Sheep, by Yuta Seki, on the pastoral theology of Benjamin Beddome. Both books recount how each handled changing churches (or staying put). There were fascinating parallels and surprising contrasts between Shields’ move from Adelaide St. Church in Hamilton to Jarvis Street Baptist Church and Beddome staying in the obscure village of Bourton-on-the-Water. A comparison between them raises important, not so obvious, questions that churches and pastors should consider regarding pastoral transitions.
Let’s consider both situations in turn.
T. Shields to Jarvis Street
For those who know of him, T. T. Shields is a polarizing figure. He was a remarkably strong defender of orthodoxy during the height of the fundamentalist modernist controversy in Ontario, punctuated by the McMaster controversy in the 1920s. But to many, he was overly authoritarian in ways harmful to Baptist witness in the early 20th century.
Those situations came after Shields’ appointment at Jarvis St. Baptist in Toronto in 1910. At that time, he was known as a gifted preacher and evangelist with an extraordinarily fruitful ministry at Adelaide St. Church in London, Ontario. His influence was expanding, making him one of the premier preachers and figureheads of Baptist life in Canada.
Jarvis St. was a significant church. Located in Toronto, it was the prime metropolitan church in the Baptist convention and several denominational officials considered it their home church. Jarvis St. was also prominent in Shields’s mind. By his own admission, after only a year or two of preaching, at the dinner table one night, Shields wrote on a piece of paper, “Rev. T. T. Shields, Pastor of Jarvis Street Baptist Church” (Tarr, pp. 31-32). In a way, this is what we might call his dream position.
Jarvis St. invited Shields for pulpit supply in February of 1910. Shields was not aware that the pulpit committee intended this as a test for whether he would be a good fit as their pastor. He ended up preaching in March of that year, and shortly after, Jarvis St. formally issued him a call to be their next pastor. Such a significant invitation did not go unnoticed. The denominational magazine, The Canadian Baptist, carried a story in April gushing with hope for the potential union between Toronto’s premier Baptist church and Ontario’s premier Baptist preacher. Tarr calls this “one of those choices which radically shape one’s future and which affect history” (Tarr, p. 50). Shields records how he made his decision, “after weighing all considerations in the balances, I concluded that the Lord, the Head of the church, was in the Jarvis Street call; therefore I accepted it.”
In sharing the news with the Adelaide St. congregation, Shields spoke with much affection for them, stating that “nothing but the clearest indication that such is the divine will could lead me to bring about a severance of our present relationship.” Even as he asked them to “consent to the severance” he reaffirmed his gratitude for hope for them.
The process for Shields’ move involved receiving a direct call from Jarvis St., his personal prayerful consideration, before accepting the call and informing the Adelaide St. congregation with the force of “certain clarity” that it was from the Lord. Absent from the process is any communication between the two churches and any formal consideration from Shields about whether God might reveal the call through his current church. God’s call was personal and direct.
Benjamin Beddome Stays Put
Benjamin Beddome, a sound preacher and proficient hymn writer of the 18th Century, ministered for over five decades in the obscure village of Bourton-on-the-Water. The obscurity of his pastorate is one reason he is not as well-known today.
In 1750, Goodman’s Fields Baptist church in London issued a call for Beddome. They sent two initial letters, one to Beddome requesting him to relocate to London to be their pastor and one to the Bourton church asking if they would comply with their request. The Bourtan church said no. A series of letters between churches followed over the next years, as the London congregation kept asking, and even suggesting suitable successors to Beddome. His congregation took every letter seriously. They talked over and prayerfully considered the request before responding with reasons why the answer was no.
While the London congregation saw the power of what Beddome’s influence could be in London, the Bourton congregation loved their pastor and never felt a sense of peace or divine calling to release him. Notably, this was not Beddome discerning a personal call in isolation, but both churches prayerfully together seeking the Lord’s guidance.
What was Beddome’s own view? In a letter dated November 22, 1750, Beddome responded to the Goodman’s Fields church. Throughout the letter, he lists a number of reasons why he was unsure he should be their next pastor, but also many points in favour of his relocating. There was clearly tension in his mind, as Beddome admits, “I am in a great strait. I cry to God for direction, but what way I shall take, I know not.” Beddome submitted the request from London to his own church, asking them to spend a month in private and corporate prayer to thoroughly consider the request. After one month, his church would send an answer, which Beddome considered would “appear most equitable and consistent with their duty.” Beddome would submit to his congregation, and he never moved to London.
There are interesting parallels between Shields and Beddome. Both were well-known, highly respected and gifted pastors who received a call from a church in a major city center. Each call considered the greater scope of influence such a minister could have in a major city. However, there is one obvious difference between the two situations. Shields made his decision, while Beddome put the decision in the hands of his church. Yuta Seki aptly summarizes that Beddome “did not view himself a free agent, able to remove to the church of his choosing. Rather, he placed himself at the disposal of the Bourton church in this decision of whether he would remove to London or not” (Seki, p. 72).
Some Questions to Consider
The purpose of this article is not to say which process is better or who got it wrong. Rather, my aim in reflecting on these examples is to raise questions we often leave off the table today. These are some of those questions.
How Does Congregational Authority Apply to Pastoral Movement?
Baptists today affirm the authority of each local church to appoint elders/pastors and deacons. But do they have the authority to overrule another church that issues a call to their pastor? Who yields when a pastor is certain God is calling him elsewhere, but his current congregation is certain he must stay? Often, the pastor’s sense of an internal call takes precedence, but might that be attributed more to an individualistic perspective rather than a Biblical norm? What about a situation where a church has turned against its pastor but refuses to accept his resignation? Must he stay?
The examples of Shields and Beddome invite us to consider these questions from different angles. Beddome’s case may be particularly helpful because of how abnormal it would be today. Seki says, “Put simply, most contemporary pastors would not consult their current church when considering a pastoral move, let alone submit to the will of his congregation on the matter. This, however, appears to have been standard practice in Beddome’s day as richly demonstrated in the letter correspondence between Bourton and London” (Seki, 104).
When I moved churches, I informed members of the pastoral staff, but the church didn’t have a role in making the decision. I’m not sure I would go about it the same way now.
What Should be the Extent and Purpose of Intrachurch Communication?
Stanley Fowler has highlighted a shift in Baptist views regarding denominational relationships over time. While Baptists today emphasize the independence of the local church over formal connections, early Baptists, along with defending congregational authority, affirmed “the ecclesiological necessity of some form of interchurch accountability and at least a kind of moral authority of these wider associations, which was not to be taken lightly” (Fowler, Collected Works, Vol. 2., p. 43). The visible expression of this was not a formal authority similar to Presbyterian polity, but a relational authority reflecting the Biblical teaching of the unity of the universal church (see 1 Cor 7:17).
Aside from a resume reference, I’m not sure what level of conversation is normal among Baptist churches during pastoral moves. My own move resembled the process between Shields and Jarvis St. (but featured much less publicity for some reason). Perhaps a recovery of a more formal process of intrachurch communication regarding pastoral moves might result in deeper gospel partnership. One not simply built on voluntary association but a clearer, more visible expression of the spiritual unity between the whole body of Christ. Such intrachurch communication aligns with Baptist polity and would benefit both the pastor and the churches involved.
How important is influence?
How much should the scope of a pastor’s influence factor into the decision to change churches? Must churches in prime real estate strive to get the most gifted preachers in their pulpits?
Overemphasizing influence comes with many dangers. For one, it can foster pride and arrogance in both the church and the pastor. The leap from considering yourself more influential to thinking of yourself as more important is not a long jump. An emphasis on influence can foster an attitude in pastors of seeing their current church as a stepping stone to something better. It can even lead to men seeing themselves as far too gifted to spend decades preaching in obscurity. The temptation to pride is very strong for the most gifted people.
Beddome’s example is a useful balance when considering the importance of influence. As Seki notes, his decision demonstrates, “the beauty and legitimacy of a pastor remaining in a station to which God had called him, even if it was a less glamorous and influential place” (Seki, p. 104).
Influence is not unimportant, but it should never be all-important. The glory of God, not the influence of gifted men, governs the priorities for calling and appointing pastors.
Admittedly, most of these questions come out of Beddome’s example. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. The example from Shields is how I’ve seen it done most. The example from Beddome raises good questions about whether that way is best.
