One of the occupational hazards of being a pastor is sometimes your words come back to you. Pastors talk a lot. Pastors often give counsel. Pastors instruct, teach, and preach. With all this talking, there are many directives and admonitions given. And so, it is not uncommon for someone to start a conversation with me with the words, “Pastor, you said.”

In the past week, this has happened twice. One was a comment made without recognizing that they were rebuking me, and the other was a direct and clear corrective word. Both were received as precious blessings and profound encouragements.

I recently read that the average length of service for pastors in Protestant churches in America is about four years. If accurate, it makes sense why so much of the advice to pastors concerning church leadership seems to be directed to the early years of ministry. From seminary professors to denominational leaders, I have often heard encouragements to pursue a long pastoral tenure. These encouragements often included descriptions of the benefits that come from long tenures. In last week's blog post, I wrote on eight blessings I have experienced after pastoring Central Baptist Church for over ten years. But I have also discovered that having pastored here for more than a decade has also brought some burdens. Here are three burdens that have come from pastoring Central Baptist Church over ten years.

A successful pastorate is as much dependent on the church as it is on the pastor. Since 2012 I have been privileged to pastor Central Baptist Church in Waycross, GA. There have been seasons of great joy and great sorrow, but there has not been a day I was not thankful for this fellowship. Recently, I have been reflecting on how pastoral ministry differs once you pass the 10-year point. Below are my observations of eight blessings that have come from pastoring CBC over ten years.

Several years ago, I played the role of tourist while staying in the smoky mountains of southern Tennessee. We loaded the kids in the van, got out our area attractions map, and headed to a nearby national park called Cades Cove. It was a simple affair. A cove nestled in the bosom of mist-shrouded mountains. A pastoral valley cleared and tamed as the first settlers of European descent arrived some 200 plus years ago. It remained the home of the first settlers and their descendants until the 1930s, when the U.S. government acquired it for a national park. Today it remains not dissimilar from what it was in the 1930s. A potted and bumpy paved road now traverses what was once a potted and bumpy dirt road that encircles the valley.

Today, only a few cabins and farm buildings remain. These structures no longer have a purpose as part of working farms but now are preserved as museum pieces. What once was a place where life was hard and laborious is now a scenic drive full of valley vistas and remarkable sightings of turkey, deer, and other wildlife that have grown accustomed to the slow-moving vehicles with their staring faces and clicking cameras. And yet they do remain. The cabins still show the hewing marks of their builders and original owners. The barns, still holding hollowed logs, worn smooth from their former duty of offering the grain and straw to hungry livestock. The cabins, mills, smokehouses, and barns, the plows, wagons, and planters warn and seasoned with use and age still look as though they could return to duty at this very moment. Yet every visitor knows that all these things– the houses, the mill, and the barns - the wagons, the plows, and farm implements have life no longer as useful tools but rather as museum relics of the past. They represent not what is or will be but what was and will be no longer.

I thought about using the title "That Time I Got Arrested in Prague," but being arrested is not actually what happened, but it does make for a more dramatic title. Here is the real story.

In 1996 I traveled to Europe with the Shorter University (then Shorter College) Chorale. The choir sang in wonderful venues in Austria, Germany, and the Czech Republic. While we were in Prague, we had time to explore the ancient city and take in the beautiful architecture and history.

After a full day of exploration, the day grew short, and we realized that it was getting close to the time we needed to be back at the hotel to prepare for the next event. We could have walked back, but the fastest way was to use public transportation. The problem was that we did not know how or where to purchase tickets to ride. We had been told that tram tickets were sold in many of the shops but not knowing the language meant we were not able to read the signs or ask for directions to find a shop that sold tickets. Our inability to read signs, along with feeling pressed for time, led us to make a very poor decision. Without much forethought or planning, we got on the tram without a ticket.

My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. I enjoy gathering with family, sharing a good meal, and spending the day unencumbered by the regular demands of life. During the Thanksgiving season, we rightly turn our attention to what we are thankful for. When thinking about what we are thankful for, we generally identify things, people, and events that we have received. You might be thankful for a good gift, a good relationship, or an advancement at work. These are certainly worthy of being thankful for, but I think there is something else that we should consider. God certainly blesses and provides by giving good gifts, but He also blesses and provides well by what He says "No" to and what He withholds.

Different eras bring different desires, but the common thread is a desire for what is perceived as better than what you have. When I was a kid, I very much thought that the kids who were growing up in homes that were more affluent than mine had it better. Many of them had parents who were much more accommodating to the desires and wishes of their children. Many of them, though they attended church somewhat regularly, had no problem with spending the weekend at the river or some other activity that seemed so much more exciting than attending Sunday school and worship. I often felt as though the kids who drove nicer cars were more blessed. I was very envious of those who could spend their Sundays skiing while I sat in church. On the issue of church attendance, I employed every argument I could muster to attempt to persuade my parents that missing a Sunday or two would not negatively impact my walk with the Lord. I passionately proclaimed that we were under grace and not under the law. In more desperate moments, I may have even insinuated that my parents were committing the sin of legalism. No matter how passionate I pleaded, their response to my desire to turn my attention away from worship and keeping Sabaoth was “No.” I was not thankful for it then, but the magnitudes of gratitude I feel today are incalculable. There was more grace in what I was not allowed to do than if I had enjoyed the freedoms and provisions I thought were so important.

There is a part of me that is sad to acknowledge the dearth of biblical literacy today. Biblical literacy has historically influenced our politics, public speech, education, poetry, and music. Without a general knowledge of the Bible, much of the writings of previous generations will not be fully understood. Phrases like “let justice roll down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream” in Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech lose their authority and power when they are divorced from the prophet Amos and become just another line in a great speech. Without an awareness of biblical themes, the opening words of the Gettysburg address just seem like a strange way to reference time.

Finding the right church is not easy. Unfortunately, too many see this as a consumer driven process rather than a spiritual act of obedience. Few go beyond the superficial of music style of the services or speaking ability of the pastor. In an interview for The Blue Mountain Review my fiend Clifford Brooks asked me how someone should go about finding a church. My response was five suggestions that I think are critical to making this decision.

You can test the water but—at some point—you must jump in. I appreciate that many come with questions and want to investigate the gospel first, but faith comes not by proximity but by intentionality. The claims of scripture are radical. The Bible teaches that God created everything; God demands righteousness; Jesus is the eternal God who came in the flesh; that he was born of a virgin; that He lived among us without sin; that He died as a sacrifice for our sin so that we might be saved; that Jesus physically died and was buried; and that He physically rose from the dead and ascended to heaven. You can investigate these claims. You can read the biblical witness of these claims. You can ponder and think on these things but, again—at some point—you must choose to believe or reject the testimony of scripture. It is an all or nothing proposition.

The New Testament church was not persecuted because the world they lived in was anti-religion. They were persecuted because the gospel they preached was exclusive. The Romans who so viciously mistreated the early Christians were not opposed to adding a new god to the list but would not stand for the testimony of Jesus claiming to be the one true God and the only way to heaven. That same dynamic is true today. Our culture loves religion as long as that religion makes no absolute truth claims. And that is the problem with Christianity – it makes absolute truth claims.

Men desire eloquence. God desires faithfulness. Men long to have their ears tickled. God longs for His truth to be known. Men judge importance by worldly metrics and success. God rejoices in humility and obedience. I believe that the pleasure of the Lord is more in the faithful preacher who is meager in skill than the great orator who was unfaithful to the truth. The danger is that the allure of the attentive crowd is great. The temptation for every communicator and preacher is to surrender fidelity for celebrity.

As adults, we often pay little attention to the seemingly insignificant moments we spend with children. We, in our adult sophistication, assume that their attention to the moment is as dull as our own. Yet, when we return to these places that hold such prominence in our childhood memories, we seldom recall the momentous occasions that made the paper or were recorded in the scrapbook.