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.

I felt a sadness as I explored the three church buildings of Cades Cove. I felt a longing for what was and grieved for what would never be again. Each building retains the same beauty of its construction and ornamentation as they held before their congregations moved away. Though lacking modern accoutrements, all three church buildings have been well maintained and still house the accommodations and furniture employed by their former members. Unfortunately, they are today essentially museum exhibits, preserved for observation but not for use. This designation was a source of sadness and grief for me as I walked through these empty church buildings.

The architecture of church buildings often is designed for beauty, but esthetics is not the primary concern for the design of a church building. Church buildings may be beautiful, but they are not constructed singularly for esthetics but primarily for action. The three church buildings of Cades Cove are functional in form and simplistic in nature, built for ministry. While it is true that more sophisticated and moneyed congregations have built more elaborate and ornate structures than those that grace Cades Cove, they too are mostly functional in their architecture. Whether it be for preaching, teaching, or meeting a need in the community, church buildings are designed to support the church's ministry. And it is ministry that is at the heart of a church's existence.

Outside of each church building are small cemeteries. The tombstones are a lasting witness of those who worshiped in each congregation. These gardens of the dead have their own stories to tell about the congregations that worshiped in these buildings. Common surnames top many of the stone markers telling of prominent families in each church. Dates of birth and death are chiseled into each grave marker giving witness to the world that the occupant knew at birth, the events of history they knew in life, and the plenty or scarcity of the number of their days at death. Though most markers give up few secrets other than the most basic biographical information about the person that lies beneath, some speak, though cryptically, a more elaborate witness. Historians tell us that the residents of Cades Cove were greatly divided in their loyalties during the Civil War. The festering disunity in the congregations was so great that the churches chose not to hold services for long periods during the war. One grave marker leaves no doubt about the loyalties of the one buried beneath by declaring that rebels in North Carolina murdered its occupant. Other graves are remarkable simply because of their age. This is particularly true for the graves of those who fought in the Revolutionary War. Yet these realities are expected. These churches are old; thus, so are the inhabitants of their cemeteries. Though remarkable, it is expected to find graves of those who died long ago. However, what I did not expect to find in these old cemeteries beside abandoned church buildings were modern grave markers. The congregations that built these buildings and buried their dead in these cemeteries have long since disbanded, but I discovered in the freshly turned dirt and slabs of marble not yet stained by the abuse of weather that their legacy remains.

These buildings were constructed with one purpose in mind – preaching. Preaching is a relatively simple activity. It is singular in focus and defined in its goal. The very structure of these buildings gives testimony to the singular focus and defined goals of their congregations. The proclamation of the Word of God was their aim. There is something refreshing about such simplicity. For those who worshiped in these structures, church meetings were a time to hear the Word proclaimed. They certainly sang hymns together. They prayed together and for one another. However, the primary focus and the defining element of their gatherings was preaching. The architecture of these buildings gives witness to this singular focus. The buildings were built to provide a place for preaching. The furniture is arranged to facilitate preaching. These congregations certainly participated in other activities associated with their ministries, but the testimony of the buildings is that their primary activity was preaching God’s word.

The problem with nostalgic thoughts is they are but sentimental imaginations, not necessarily accurate recollections. These places of worship are simplistic, yes – but perfect, no. There is value in simplicity, yet there is also foolishness in holding to the past out of nostalgia alone. I am thankful that my church in South Georgia, where humidity, heat, and gnats create a summer environment that can wilt a rock, has air-conditioned buildings. With the blessing of air-conditioning comes related aggravations, but these are considered small compared to the unpleasantness of enduring south Georgia’s oppressive heat and humidity.

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 have often heard it said that sheep are dumb. Generally, this assessment of the deficient intelligence of the ovine mind is used to explain the propensity of sheep to wander off from the herd and become lost. The Bible often uses sheep as a metaphor for God’s people. As such, when biblical passages are taught that deal with the imagery of sheep and their shepherds the negative assessment of being dumb and stupid is often applied both to the sheep and to Christians. This negative description of sheep is so commonly used that it gives the impression that the biblical perspective of sheep is universally negative.

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.

There is a moment in the evening just before dark when everything changes. It can catch you off guard if you are not careful. I am thinking of the moment when dusk turns to night. Walking through the woods in the afternoon sun is a beautiful experience. And, even after the sun sets over the horizon, there are those last rays of the sun that paint the air with beautiful tones. If you walk deep in the woods, enjoying the last moments of the day, you will find (before you are aware) something happens to change everything.