Words: 1434
Time to read: 8 minutes
I recently had a conversation that was thought provoking well beyond the scope of what we were actually discussing. That you can have that type of conversation and stimulate further thought is challenging and engaging. This was a veritable trip down memory lane, recounting colleagues and fellow students from the not-so-distant past that feels like a lifetime ago. Name after name streamed across my mind, many of them were mere acquaintances, and a few I knew slightly more intimately but none were what I would deem close friends. I studied at a small independent Baptist Bible college, the type where everyone knows everyone, and perhaps more importantly, seemingly everything about everyone. We all had ostensibly the same goal (or something akin): studies, work, marriage, present ministry obligations, and future ministry placement. The varying degree of one’s satisfaction usually stemmed from how well one of those particular factors was going (or not). Many of the students all knew each other before arriving, or at least had a vague familiarity. Quickly bonding together and banding together as you so often do in such a setting, friendship (and love) was formed quickly and often quite steadfastly. The drive, not only of present ministerial obligations but also, of future ministry opportunities provided many with an impulse to whole-heartedly serve, even in situations that were often far beyond one’s understanding or experience. Perhaps most importantly of all—there was a constant message in walking with the Lord and seeking His heart and presence as ministry was done and sought out.
As the names flowed and the memories kept on coming, I had to take a step back and ask myself a question: why were some still in ministry and others (perhaps many more?) not?
I know in my case I was saved when I was 6 years old and then called to the ministry when I was 9. I was driven, whether correctly in motives or not is beyond me, to take my studies seriously. I was implored to take every present ministry opportunity seriously. I was exhorted not to be tempted to see the now as just a stepping stone to the next thing in my “career”. I can’t say that I always heeded that wise advice. I can’t say that my motives were always so altruistic as just serving God. I certainly can’t speak for others; still, the question nagged at me.
Some appeared to completely desist the moment they arrived on campus. That they had no heart for the work of the ministry or were there simply to appease an authority in their lives was indubitably obvious. Others perhaps started with the right motives or intentions. The allure of money or mutual attraction of a possible mate was often a deterrent in continuing fully ahead. The Gospel ministry isn’t known to be a place for building serious wealth and regrettably, often can fail to even meet basic personal financial needs—another topic for another time. What’s more, the ministry was not what they thought it to be or allowed perhaps a bad example or embittered soul to cauterize their tender heart that once beat with the simple desire to serve God. Perhaps the most baffling of all are those that went on to complete their course of study (no mean feat) and then entered into the ministry, often newly married or with serious prospects of marriage, only to leave the ministry altogether, often by their own volition. My heart hurts knowing that at such a young age and a crucial stage of building a life together, couples left not only the ministry but from following God altogether. In some cases, the marriage did not survive the tempest.
Why?
Perhaps it’s because in Bible school there is such a camaraderie to serve and have a heart for God. That’s certainly not always true in the real world. Often, it’s quite the opposite. Perhaps they depended too deeply on parental or authoritative spirituality. Perhaps they were simply going to alleviate their own sense of duty or their parents’ or pastor’s expectations of them. The cases are many and the diagnosis is impossible to discern. I’m not sure that this side of heaven we’ll truly know why.
But perhaps I could offer a thought.
Ministry never was and never will be about us, about me. I am simply a servant. If God should choose to use me to do great works, humanly speaking, then all praise to Him. If He should choose to allow me to suffer in obscurity, then all praise to Him as well. Jeremiah had a peculiar way of seeing the difficulties that he passed through in Jeremiah 20. He tells the Lord that he has been deceived. He was unaware of the immense cost and toll that the ministry he was given would take on him. Fair enough. But I think that’s merely an excuse for his own self-loathing and despondency. God had forewarned Jeremiah that the people would reject him. That they had an obdurate heart predisposed to rebellion was disclosed to Jeremiah at the outset of his work. The only deceit was self-deceit—the fact that Jeremiah had chosen to not believe it. He desired a different reality. And why shouldn’t he? He loved this rebellious, obstinate people. These were his kinsmen. These were people that he knew personally. Surely they couldn’t be so hard of heart?!
And yet they were. They persisted, even delighted, in such callousness.
But Jeremiah was called nonetheless. Jeremiah was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. He just didn’t like it. He didn’t like it because it wasn’t the ministry that he would have chosen. The opportunities for which he would not have matriculated. A ministry that he had not chosen was given to him. Wallowing not only in the mire of the prison bit but of his own self-misery, he accuses God of deceiving him. Surely this couldn’t be what he was wasting his harried life on? Surely there was something of human vanity and worth to show to others that he could accomplish? But no. Sitting there in that pit he rediscovered the source not only of his call but also his passion—the Word of God. Rather than seeing the Word that he received as a burden, he had to be reminded that this Word was his purpose in life, even if no one else wanted to hear or chose to see. He was not serving man, he was serving the Almighty who made no mistake in calling this self-loathing prophet. When His Word returned to be a fire, when His Word revived to compel him forward, Jeremiah did not shrink from such an impulse. He continued on. Life was not better. It actually only worsened for him. Yet, he persisted. He continued.
Why do some stay and some go? Why do those who profess to be God’s called man decide to leave the ministry, and allow themselves to be deceived and beguiled by Satan’s craft? Why do some servants of God seemingly stray so far from God’s Word? Self-deceit. Nothing is ever as it truly appears, least of God’s work when His enemy is indefatigably laboring to take his men out. The Enemy has no use for me. He really doesn’t care how I fall or what he uses to bewitch and beguile, just as long as I’m ineffective. Perhaps most telling, this ineffective ministry can happen even in the midst of an apparently thriving ministry. Man was quick to laud Saul’s appearance and evident leadership abilities, yet he resorted to rebellion, manipulation, conceit, and envy attempting to maintain the kingdom as his own. The kingdom is not mine. The ministry is not mine. It is the Lord’s. I must maintain a spirit that humbly acknowledges His ownership and possession. I must be careful to always maintain His Word as a fire in my heart. The moment that ceases to be true I am in grave danger of being unable to see God’s greatness and my constant need for His Word and wisdom.
I have heard it said that faithfulness is not measured in years but in decades. I would argue that even decades is not sufficient. Faithfulness is not measured simply in decades but only in a lifetime. Be it 10 years of ministry, as I have known many servants of Christ who died all too early from a human view, or for 70 years or more, may His Word ever ascend our hearts with His holy fire with a firm view on Christ and a compassionate eye towards others.