Pastoral Stress

As multiple deployments of military personnel continue to Iraq and Afghanistan, more and more reports filter back concerning the rise of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in our troops. It stands to reason that these men and woman cannot receive repeated trauma and not react both physically and emotionally. It all builds up over time.

Given the title of this blog article I do not want to insinuate that much of the normal stress endured by pastors is comparable to the overwhelming stress of a battle environment. My point, however, does concern a difference between normal working stress and the kind of stress that is serious enough to eventually result in physical and emotional harm. With training in CISM I recognize that sometimes 'critical incidents' - incidents that are more intense than normal - can and will be life-changing and personally destructive if ignored and left unattended.

Many outside of the immediate working of the pastoral ministry probably do not realize the potential for such stress in the life of their shepherd. They may marvel at times how he seems to deal with death so professionally, or navigate congregational conflict with such calm, that they believe he is untouched by the events themselves. But he isn't. He may be able to distance himself emotionally from the event at the time, allowing an emotional 'buffer' so that he can function. However, back in the quiet of his home or office with time to process the events, he may begin to eventually feel the accumulated burden of what he has carried.

One area that exacts so much toll on pastors, yet is probably too often ignored, is inner church conflict. Unlike the parishoner who blows up at a meeting or storms out of your office, pastors, by and large, do not feel the luxury of allowing themselves to lose control. Instead, they absorb the energy of the anger and frustration, attempting to patiently listen and empathize, yet all the while the intensity within begins to reach dangerous levels. Yet all that we know about stress tells us that the worst possible thing to do is to internalize it. For when we do this, it will express itself elsewhere, usually in inappropriate or hurtful ways. Do we wonder why the marriages of pastors too often suffer the same fate as those in the rest of the community? One might pause to look at what unresolved stressors are affecting his and his family's life.

The pastor's family often absorbs the stress of the parish right along with the pastor. They, too, feel limited in how they can express their own frustration and anger. Living in the 'glass bowl' of the parsonage they feel on regular display, many observing how they will deal with their lives. It is a mixed blessing to be in such a position. On the one hand one has the opportunity to model Christian behavior to those who need to see how one can live our Christ in their family and community. On the other hand pastors and their families are also quite human and have the same emotional needs as others. Finding appropriate venues to express these remains an ongoing challenge.

Pastors know that in accepting the mantle of their office they accept the burden of their calling as well. By and far they are no given to 'whining' or complaining about the weight they carry. In fact, most, like traumatized veterans returning home, will even go to great lengths to avoid talking about it. So many others need their listening ear and understanding presence. How can they be so selfish as to burden others? Furthermore, their churches need their steady leadership in the midst of the tumultuous storms of parish life. Someone has to be calm when others are losing their cool.

Yet stress is stress, and untreated will harm the person enduring it. Much over the years has been written about pastoral burnout, but one wonders if much has been done to address the underlying causes. It's not just from being too busy, although overwork will take its toll in time. The problem is that buried frustration, fear, and anger. That is the hidden culprit. Hopefully most pastors have opportunities at winkels to 'vent' and receive brotherly encouragement. My guess is that many do not. But to let these emotional ghosts drift unseen is to welcome eventual breakdown. I am encouraged to hear of some who are addressing these matters, not least of which is DOXOLOGY. May many more pastors be able to take advantage of these opportunities to release and heal. The church depends on it.

Can You Speak of the Church without the Threefold Order?

Having just taught a Bible class last night on the structure and teaching of the Catholic Church, I took a moment this morning to go over to the blog of Daniel Woodring, former LCMS pastor now turned Roman Catholic. His latest post concerns information about the clerical structure of the church as indicated by church father Ignatius of Antioch. The good father, in referencing the typical order of bishop-presbyter/priest-deacon claimed that "Without these three orders you cannot begin to speak of a church." Mr. Woodring (I assume he is no longer in the "orders" of which he writes) notes that if Ignatius was wrong, it is quite surprising, given his relationship to the apostolic church and his status, that no one corrected him. He then says: "You may reject the threefold office, but you cannot avoid the question, 'Why didn't the early Church reject it?'"

I am well aware that for the Catholic church the outward structure defines and identifies what is considered legitimately "church" (as opposed to the biblical Lutheran view that the church is identified by the "marks" of Word and Sacrament.) In fact, the RC church goes a step further in claiming that without the pope there is no legitimate church. I suspect that Ignatius, writing in the second century, didn't anticipate that, although the RC church no doubt simply puts the pope in the "first order" of bishop. To be truthful, however, the pope is an order unto himself. He may sometimes be referred to as a 'first among equals,' but in practice I fail to see the equality.

Still, what are we, as Lutherans, to do with Ignatius' claim and Woodring's challenge? Does the Lutheran church truly "reject" this order? No, we do not. Luther was more than willing to live with the entire ordered structure of the late Medieval church if only the bishops would be the pastors they were supposed to be, instead of political leaders into which they had evolved.

The historical reasons for our current structure in the LCMS are a bit complex and beyond this brief post. However, in many ways we have retained the structure, even if we do not always use the exact titles. Is it right to read the current RC structure as it exists today back into Ignatius? I would think not. The Lutheran church recognizes Ignatius' concerns in that it has always claimed that you cannot talk of the church without the public office of the ministry (contrary to some claims within the Lutheran church notwithstanding.) It has always acknowledged the order of laity and called servants of the Word. And as Woodring rightly admits, the terminology in the New Testament is 'fluid.' A careful read of St. Paul will reveal that there is anything but a rigid and set definition of the terms then employed in the sense that the RC church now insists. Lutherans, for example, recognize that "bishops" are synonymous with "presbyters." In Christian freedom (and that is the operative word - freedom!) we are permitted, as need arises, to order the church with increasingly complex structures, or to remain as simple as a little rural church requires. I cannot see in Paul any insistence on the exact structure now seen in the RC church (And we haven't even dealt with matters such as archbishops and cardinals.) Furthermore, in fairness to Ignatius I suspect he did not visualize the complex ecclesiastical bureaucracy that has now emerged claiming apostolic legitimacy.

For the record, I, as a Lutheran, do not "reject" this structure. I also believe that I can remain true to Ignatius' concerns in the current order we now observe, where the true office of bishop - a churchly office of Word and Sacrament ministry - is mandated within each parish, along with the other supportive structures as well which carry on the time-honored duties we associate with the deaconate office.

How Do You Know When a Church is Dying?

"The church is dying!" a concerned member declares. And who feels they can argue? Average attendance is down considerably from those past glory years. The Sunday School looks quite a bit smaller than it did a generation or so ago. It seems that there was more energy, more enthusiasm, more sense of mission in those 'old days.'

Are these then the irrefutable signs that a church is on its way to closing the doors for good? In popular models of the church numbers are especially key. When attendance goes down along with general membership, so does the hope of any meaningful future. Other signs are rather subjective, and depend on one's definition of "exciting" or "enthusiastic."

I am hesitant to even attempt to define what it means when a church is dying. For starters, can we impose a certain number of criteria apart from a reasonable view of the church's historical context? In others words, is it fair to nakedly assess a church's future based on a chart-like comparison where 'up' is good and 'down' is bad? Is is possible that congregations instead have a history that comes in 'waves,' some rolling in high swells, and some, just as in life, dipping deep into the darker recesses of suffering and struggle?

As I look at my own rural parish I realize that numbers will never truly tell the story or future of this little corner of the Kingdom. Built and planted over 120 years ago as concerned Lutherans attempted to minister to increasing numbers of those carving out a place in the Northwoods to farm, the congregation grew naturally right long with those burgeoning farm families. At its peak it was not uncommon to see a household of as many as 14 children. Can you imagine the kind of Sunday School you could have with such 'mega-families'? Yes, 50 or more children in those days was not at all uncommon. Youth groups really never required recruitment. They were the expected part of what then formed the center of the social activity of those days.

Times, of course have changed. Radically changed. Families are smaller. Much, much smaller. Farms are fewer. Many other activities compete for the attention of young people that couldn't be imagined in those simpler times. Morals are often in shreds, the world having crept in the back door of a generation that enthusiastically embraced it and all its enticements. We battle new demons in these days. Demons that seem more sophisticated and crafty than before. Now it seems that we can be in the middle of a bustling city yet feel like we are a lone outpost in the prairie. Indeed, we are cultural outposts, for a culture alien to our ancestors have since surrounded us and left us as islands.

Yet still we do not die. Babies continue to be brought to the font to be given new life in Christ. Marriages continue to be blessed at the Lord's altar. The sound of children still resonates in the basement hallways as teachers patiently attempt to teach them for one more hour. True, we are older and fewer. But we are still here.

How does one gage life and death in these cases? If life is of Christ, we must start with Him. Is Christ still proclaimed? Is His life-giving flesh still offered in the Blessed Sacrament? Are children still buried in the tomb of the watery grave to be raised to new life through Christ? If all this is true, then life is present.

Quite often a doctor will listen intently to a faint pulse, but will not declare the patient deceased. He wouldn't even say the patient is dying. It would be unthinkable. Why then would we want to declare a church dying if the pulse of her activity at a given moment seems weak and difficult to hear to our sometimes poorly tuned ears? Bombarded by the loud, harsh sounds of our culture we lose the ability to feel the softer vibrations of genuine living reality.

Any time we attempt to call the moment of death in a church we risk making the wrong call. God does not need large wealthy congregations, or buildings flush with people and activity. He can use these things, but He is not dependant on them. He also is know to allow his children to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, so that in faith they might learn anew, grasping only the cross for comfort, that He is with them, and they will not fall.

So for today I'm not going to think any more of what it means when a church is dying. I guess I'm no longer sure if it's a question we can even ask.

When Interpretations Differ - To What Authority Do We Appeal?

Christians often disagree in how they interpret Scripture. Sometimes these disagreements are minor and fail to rise to any level of concern. They can safely "agree to disagree" without compromising the integrity of their faith. On other occasions the disagreements set two interpretations against one another with the claim that those with whom they disagree are teaching "contrary to the Word of God." At this level it is impossible to "agree to disagree," for the integrity of the witness is at stake.

Yet how do Lutherans resolve such differences? With our historic teaching that "scripture interprets scripture" does this not place us in a 'no win' position of having in the end to embrace both views? Roman Catholics can appeal to the magisterium of their bishops to resolve the differences as they in turn appeal to the ancient cannons of their teachings. But Lutherans do not appeal to anything 'above' the clear Word of God. God's Word is the final authority.

The Lutheran Study Bible has a helpful note on dealing with this subject in the introductory articles at the beginning of the Bible. Under "How to Read and Study the Holy Bible" on pages xxvi-xxx, the general editor outlines some very instructive points, such as the Scripture focuses on Jesus Christ, the Scripture agrees with itself, the scripture is understood through context, etc. However, even when these principles are used, how does one deal with the potential problem of the 'renegade interpreter' who pits himself against the generally accepted teaching of the church? Under the section entitle "The Holy Spirit Leads Us to Confession of Faith with the Church," the editor writes:

Never imagine that believers exist without the Church...When the Holy Spirit calls someone to faith, He likewise calls that person to serve in the congregation of the faithful (2 Tim 3:16-17). A Christian should not set out to interpret Scripture by himself, in isolation from other believers. God's people meditate on Scripture together (1 Tm 4:13) and interpret Scripture in view of Scripture.

Life together in the Church requires unity, because people cannot dwell together long without agreement (1 Cor 1:9-10).....[The editor outlines the various 'confessions' the church has developed over the centuries to guide the Church and address abuses, then share the following.] ....The need for these "rules of faith" should call us to humility, to acknowledge that our own reason, experiences, interests, and opinions are distorted by the effects of sin. Just a surely as a child needs the faithful guidance of parents and teachers to learn how to read new believers also need the community of faith to learn how to read the Holy Scriptures. Even Jesus - the Word of God in the flesh - humbly listened to the teachers at the temple in Jerusalem (Lk 2:46). the creeds and confessions are a written record of how God's people faithfully interpret Scripture."

1 Corinthians 10 and Those Who Wish to Commune at Conflicting Altars

The most difficult aspect of the close(d) communion practice in our churches usually comes with the presence of a prospective communicant from another Lutheran denomination, especially the ELCA. Many people accept the fact that it is not appropriate for Catholics or Baptists to present themselves at our altar. But Lutherans from other denominations present a unique and thorny issue for the pastor. Where should the faithful pastor turn for support?

Exegetes readily admit that Paul's words in 1 Corinthians do not directly address denominational membership as we currently understand it. How could they? The church, thankfully, was yet one. Unfortunately the temptation exists to brush away our need for faithful fellowship at the altar by utilizing the seeming silence of scripture as our escape clause. Furthermore, it is argued that membership in a congregation that happens to belong to another denomination does not automatically imply that the prospective communicant possesses the confession of that church body. To a degree there is truth here. We do not deny the reality of 'felicitous inconsistency' where many a Lutheran possesses an orthodox understanding of the faith while belonging to a heterodox church body.

However, do we simply overlook this and disregard their denominational affiliation? No. Pastoral care exceptions aside, the public participation of a Christian in a congregation with which they hold formal membership does involve them, even unwittingly, in the errors of that church. And to what scripture do we appeal? My suggestion is that 1 Corinthians 10:14-22 is our firmest ground in this case. Now I can already hear the protests since Paul here is talking directly about those who participate in pagan rituals and worship while at the same time presenting themselves at the Lord's Table. Are you saying that the ELCA churches are demonic altars? No. My point here is that Paul clearly shows how the involvement of a person in the sacrificial worship of any religion is a real participation (communion) in that faith.

I make this first point because the argument is often put forth that a person's involvement or association with the ELCA does not connect them in any way with the errors of that church. To the contrary, participating in a church that teaches error connects you intimately with those errors whether you intend it or not. Thus, when talking about error and falsehood in the church as much as the demonic deceptions of the pagans, Paul's instructions are clear: flee! One could imagine a Christian of the first century arguing with Paul trying to convince him that being at the pagan temple was just a social thing, and that he was in not danger of straying from his Christian faith. He could do both, no harm. Paul, however, would warn him that his confidence was overstated and the danger was real.

Furthermore, the issue of unity is also at stake. In the same context Paul states: "Because there is one bread, we the many are one body, for we all share in the one bread" (vs. 17). A careful examination of the first chapter of 1 Corinthians will reveal the divisiveness already present within the Corinthians congregation and Paul's call for unity. They are lining up in differing factions. They are embracing contrary teachings. All this is unacceptable. That unity is now further threatened by the careless participation of some of its members in the religious rites of the neighboring pagan temple.

When a person tries to maintain their participation in two churches that teach different doctrines and are not in unity of faith, is this really any different? In our individualistic culture today we loathe the idea that the actions of those with whom we might associate could be connected with us. We are 'free agents' accountable only to ourselves, and if we must, directly to God on our own terms. It is as if the church hardly exists in this cases; merely me and Jesus is all that counts.

We must hold people accountable for the confessions with which they associate themselves. If they don't believe what a given church teaches, then leave. You have a choice - and a responsibility! If you want to fellowship at my altar, then sever yourself from the demonic errors that you have become connected with, even if unintentionally. This is for the good of your own faith, not just the integrity of the church's public witness.

Close vs. Closed Communion?

When debates rise about the fellowship policy of the LCMS with respect to participation in Holy Communion, inevitably we are subjected to the supposed semantic distinction of "close" vs. "closed." Often in synodical literature the word is merged into one with the "d" encased in parentheses, indicating that understood properly the words are synonymous.

Try convincing anyone of this who is committed to a "functionally open" policy and you encounter a losing battle. Unfortunately language has changed and along with that the older word "close." Dr. Kurt Marquart in his article "Gold, Silver, and Bronze - and Close Communion," notes:

Actually "close" is simply an older form of "closed"-as in "close carriage." So, despite the touching stories that have been made up about "close" communion-and why that is so much better than the "exclusive," and therefore politically incorrect "closed" communion-the fact is that "close communion" and "closed communion" mean exactly the same thing. The opposite of both is "open communion," not something like "distant communion"!


Unfortunately many pastors in the Synod long ago began making the unfortunate distinction between these words, forever contaminating their use. Personally I am done with the words. They only end up in a losing debate, for the person proposing an open practice will always appeal to the more modern understanding that "close" has nothing to do with "closed."

I commend the article referenced above for your complete review. Marquart was my professor at seminary, a man for whom I have the greatest respect.

Catechesis: The Quiet Crisis

In recent discussions at my church on the subject of close communion, one thing has become increasing apparent to me. We have a crisis in our church body and the 'ground zero' of this crisis is in our ongoing failure of catechesis, the work of teaching and passing on to our people the faith once delivered to the saints. To that end I would like to commend to you a past article from the Concordia Theological Quarterly out of CTS-Ft. Wayne. It is an article from 1992, written by a then young pastor by the name of William E. Thompson, entitled "Catechesis: The Quiet Crisis."