The Long Haul
You have all have noticed that 40 is a very important number in scripture. Whenever it is used–and it is used a LOT–it means a really, really long time. When the Bible uses 40 it almost inevitably means there is a crisis, OR God’s people have a critical decision to prepare for, OR they have to learn something really important. 40 means: time to pay attention. Think about it. Noah in the ark, Israel wandering in the desert, Elijah journeying to the mountain, Jonah warning the Ninevites to repent, Jesus in the wilderness wrestling with the devil…whether 40 years or 40 days, it’s a long, long time.
All of this has crossed my mind recently while contemplating a personal milestone. As of June 30th, I have been an ordained pastor for 30 years. THIRTY years! Sheesh. Thirty isn’t forty…but it’s getting up there. If it’s not a long, long time…it’s at least a long time. After my 11 years in business out of college and 3 years in seminary, those 30 ministry years break down like this: 3 years in Minneapolis MN (Assoc. Pastor) + 11 years in Seattle + 9 years in Los Angeles + 7 years in Santa Rosa = 30 Years.
Being a pastor was never my idea. I was pretty settled into a business career in the 1980s and 90s. Philosophically I believed (and still do, even more strongly) that God calls people into all sorts of different things–not just pastoral ministry or missionary work, but education and nursing and business and teaching and on and on. We need Jesus-followers in every vocation, in every place. Maybe someday the Church will ordain or commission people to these other callings too. In hindsight, though, I experienced a certain restlessness after a decade in business, one I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Then, over the course of a year and a half, my wife Anne and I began to feel an inexplicable pull toward full-time ministry. I could have understood if that was to parachurch ministry, campus ministry or chaplaincy…but ministry in the Church? I’d always had something of a love/hate relationship with the Church. Some days I still do.
Nonetheless, we felt drawn like a piece of metal headed toward a magnet. God opened doors, and I unsuccessfully tried to close them until it became glaringly obvious that our previous plans for our life were not exactly what God had in mind. So, on the evening of June 30, 1996, I found myself sitting in a wooden pew in my home church, Bethany Presbyterian in Seattle (which I later pastored), for my ordination service. I was listening to one of my favorite people, Bruce Murphy. Bruce was the pastor of Bethany, a good friend and mentor to me, and I had listened to him speak in that setting to our congregation many times. On this particular evening, however, he was speaking directly to me.
Bruce’s job in the service was to give me a personal “charge,” sort of a cross between an exhortation and marching orders. It must have worked, because though I have forgotten most of what went on in that service, I haven’t forgotten what Bruce said to me. The image he used was originally written in Herman Melville’s classic novel Moby Dick, and it had been pastorally applied in a Eugene Peterson book, The Contemplative Pastor. The image was of a harpooner. A harpooner, as described by Melville in the 1800’s, sat in the front of one of the small skiffs that a large whaling ship dropped into the water when a whale had been sighted. When you boiled it down, the harpooner had a relatively simple job. Not easy, but simple. His job was to watch for the whale. If the harpooner was distracted by anything— the large ship, the waves, the wind, his colleagues rowing the boat, the other skiffs—he would miss the whale and thereby let down everyone on the expedition. His one job was to watch for the whale and then throw the harpoon–accurately, I presume.
As Bruce stood in the same pulpit he preached from every Sunday and that I later did, he looked me in the eye and said, “Dan, you have only one job too. Your job is to watch for God. Now, everybody will tell you that you have lots of other jobs– administration of an organization, teaching, staff leadership, preaching. Some people will even tell you it is your job to mow the church lawn or clean the toilets!” (The latter task, I now know, is actually requested less frequently than the unclogging of those toilets, which inevitably plug up exactly five minutes before a service or wedding begins.) Bruce continued, “You will need to resist many things so that you are free enough to do your one job: Watch for God. And when you see God, point others towards Him.” Accurately, I presume.
That was thirty years ago. I’ve learned many things since then from pastoring, most of them simple to understand and hard to live out:
God is amazingly faithful and can be trusted.
Surprise should be a major part of Christian vocabulary.
Wonder pops up frequently and unsolicited.
Every single person is valuable to God.
If you want to know what God is like, look at Jesus.
The Gospel is hands down the best news the world can hear.
A major calling for every Christian is to pay attention…to watch for God.
Thirty years isn’t forty, but it’s long enough to learn that watching for God’s presence is not just my calling as a pastor…it’s part of every believer’s task. And when we see the Lord, we have the great privilege of trying to point other people in his direction. Accurately, I presume.
Peace of Christ,
Dan Baumgartner
Dan Baumgartner is the senior pastor at The Covein Santa Rosa CA and currently serves on The Fellowship Community Board.
These are the expressed views of Dan Baumgartner and not necessarily broader views of The Fellowship Community.