I’ve always resisted the idea of a pastor being one who simply "marries and buries."  One whose job is supposedly to perform weddings and funerals, baby dedications and hospital visitations, Christmases and Easters.  You know, that idea of the pastor being the keeper of the cultural faith, the religious master of ceremonies for certain special occasions and rites of passage... it just feels like a relic to me, something from a bygone era of "Christian" America and Europe...

I prefer to think of “ministry” in a much more holistic fashion.  It's not just about sermons and ceremonies; it's about the day-to-day grind of life.  Trying to follow Jesus in everyday existence -- simply devoting ourselves to "the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer" (Acts 2:42).  Something that happens not just in the "Temple courts" but also from "house to house," as basic as sharing a meal together.  In this regard, I guess you could say I've attached myself to an even more traditional (pre-Constantinian) image of the pastor as being the "shepherd," just taking care of a big ol' flock of sheep day in, day out (even though this can also be really frustrating for me sometimes).  Shepherd / friend / care-taker / utility infielder...

This is, in effect, what I originally "signed up for" when I decided to go into full-time ministry.  It definitely wasn't preaching sermons or officiating ceremonies; it was just spending time with young people, talking about life over a cup of coffee, getting to know each other while taking a walk or playing basketball or that type of thing.  It was "hanging out," interacting with people in groups of 3 or 4 or 10, talking about life and love and faith and doubt.  That's where I figured real life and real ministry happened.  And for the majority of my decade in full-time ministry, that is exactly how my ministry has worked itself out.  For that matter, I think I'd be very content for it to stay that way for the rest of the time that God may keep me in this line of work.

Even so, I'm also coming to terms with the "official Christian stuff."

Over the last six months -- probably not so happenstance, considering the coincidental departure of my co-pastor who had previously played more of the official "mouthpiece" role -- the "official Christian stuff" seems like it's become more and more a part of what I'm doing.  I'm preaching more for our Sunday worship gatherings.  Last month, I performed my first wedding.  Last week, just like the church sending out missionaries in the Book of Acts, I and some others from the church prayed and laid hands on a woman from our community who's moving to Mozambique for a year-and-a-half to work for a development organization.  Later this month, we're planning a baby dedication for some dear friends who've just had their first child.  I look back on the years here in Amsterdam and realize that I've baptized dozens of people.

Over the past months, I've spent hours talking people through various ask-outs, break-ups, and general relational angst.  I've prayed with people as they've struggled to overcome addictions and offered practical help to people confined to crutches and wheelchairs.  I've represented our church at city-wide ministry functions and in small fellowships of pastors.  In short, I've been playing the classic role of the "minister."

What's surprised me is that I've not felt "relegated" to this role at all.  On the contrary, I've found joy in it!  I still believe in a more holistic vision of "ministry" that goes way beyond the sermons and ceremonies.  But I've come to see that such a view doesn't necessarily preclude participation in classic church ceremonies.  In fact, there's something beautiful in the opportunity to help maintain an awareness of God through the rites of passage which mark significant life changes:  struggling through relationships, getting married, having babies, living life.  These occasions mark a fresh opportunity to depend on God in a new area of responsibility or commitment -- and, if anything, I've found that the participants in these ceremonies are not bothered by "token religious obligations" but actually more spiritually open and pliable during such transitions.  Not to mention the fact that such events within a Christian community also typically prove to be strategic chances to interact with non-Christian friends and family as well!  No, this "official Christian stuff" is not a burden, a liability, or an occupational hazard; it's a position of honor, to help spiritually support people through unforgettable life experiences.  It's shepherding in one of its purest forms!

I've still got a lot to learn, I'm sure.  But I felt it was helpful for me to put some of these pieces together in my own mind -- to assure myself that I'm not some kind of sell-out or corporate tool.  As a third-generation minister, I can be especially self-conscious about potential misconceptions of ministry.  Yes, I'm doing a lot of the same things that my father did, before me, and his father, before him.  It's true that the hand-book for these occasions hasn't changed a whole lot in the last hundred years (note:  the images here with this post are taken from Hiscox's "Star Book for Ministers," originally published in 1878 and reprinted in 1906, originally inscribed by my grandfather).  But that doesn't mean that the "official Christian" events we celebrate are not fresh or meaningful.  They can be fresh and time-honored at the same time!

And so, I consider it a great privilege that I can continue with the work of marrying, burying, and carrying on... so help me, God.