Sometimes I’m tempted to want to be more than I am, but when I’m thinking straight, I’m glad I’m just a pastor.
Not a social media influencer. Not a thought leader. Not a pundit. Just a pastor. And not a pastor at large, but a pastor of one particular church in one particular location with a defined group of people. I’m not everyone’s pastor; I’m their pastor.
In fact, not the pastor but a pastor. I’m grateful to serve alongside other godly elders who share in the oversight of this local church. Whenever someone asks the church’s position on a tricky issue, I’m grateful that I don’t have to give the answer. Leadership is shared; responsibility is shared. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Shepherd the flock of God that is among you,” Peter wrote (1 Peter 5:2). I don’t shepherd the church in general. I get to help shepherd one particular congregation. I get to know its people, its unique set of strengths and challenges. I get to love its people.
When I moved to the church I now pastor, I felt awkward at first. I looked out on Sundays at people I didn’t yet know and didn’t yet love. They were strangers. It felt like I was a permanent guest preacher. I had committed to this church, and they had committed to me, but I didn’t know them yet, and they didn’t know me. That’s changed over time as I get to know people. Pastors know their people and care for the particular congregation entrusted to their care.
Pastors don’t preach sermons to people in general. They preach to their congregation, their people, with its particular needs and issues.
We’re to do this eagerly, Peter writes (1 Peter 5:2). I follow one pastor on social media mainly because of his gratitude for his local church. “Best thing going,” he frequently posts. It never feels like he’s boasting; it always feels like he’s just grateful for what every pastor gets to enjoy. I used to listen to another pastor who frequently told his congregation, “I can’t believe I get to be your pastor.” I think that’s the kind of eagerness Peter’s talking about. Don’t pastor like someone’s put a gun to your head; pastor like it’s the greatest privilege of your life.
Pastors get to be examples to the flock (1 Peter 5:3). Not everyone will see my life up close, but my church should. They should see how I act outside of the pulpit. They should know how I treat my wife, how I act when I’m tired, how I respond when I don’t get my way. They should know me well enough to see me repent when I sin. They should observe the pattern of my life because I’m their pastor and they know me.
“And when the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory” (1 Peter 5:4). When you’re just a pastor, your social media presence may not impress. Your name may not be known except by a few. You may work in obscurity, sometimes among sheep who bite. But the commendation you will receive is unbelievable.
When I lose perspective, my heart longs for influence and recognition. But when I consider what a privilege it is to just be a pastor, I’m filled with gratitude. What a gift to be just a pastor.