St Sebastian, Pietro Perugino (1446/1452 – 1523), Borghese, Rome

In preparation for some presbytery work, I recently came across a form used in the process of receiving new pastors into our denomination. The form is to be signed by a physician who must examine the candidate and then certify that they “will be able to sustain the physical and emotional demands of full-time professional ministry.” As it should be, we don’t see blood pressure or cholesterol numbers, just the certification that the candidate is good to go. But to help the physician in making the determination of fitness for ministry, the form provides eight points to consider:

1. The average pastor works 50-plus hours per week.
2. He/she normally works at least part of every day each week, at least one full day every weekend, and usually at least two evenings per week.
3. The average pastor trains and manages the responsibilities of numerous volunteers and, in most cases, at least some paid staff.
4. A ministry professional’s capacity to fulfill his/her ministry responsibilities is dependent in part upon his/her physical condition, and his/her body’s ability to handle stress and long hours of ministry.
5. It is common for a ministry professional to place a higher priority on the health of others, rather than on his/her own health.
6. The average pastor deals with constant gossip, regular conflict, higher unrealistic expectations than almost any other profession, and is often underpaid for his/her education and experience.
7. Every person who attends a church — whether they contribute financially or not — considers himself an expert on the pastor’s “performance” and usually expresses that opinion to others … but not to the pastor.
8. The emotional stress of being responsible for the satisfaction and well-being of anywhere from one hundred to several thousand people is much like your medical profession, except a pastor has to socialize with all of them after work.

I felt uneasy after reading this description of the life I had lived for so many years. No wonder there is such a dearth of good pastoral candidates these days. Frankly, I think the list is poorly and provocatively worded, but, better said, I would agree with the basic truth of each statement. Yes, it is sometimes like that.

As I was pondering this discouraging list, a strong rejoinder popped into my text message inbox. A pastor friend still practicing told a quick story about an incident from earlier in the day as he was caring for the sheep in his charge: “What a blessing this job can be,” he wrote.

I needed to hear that.

The life of a pastor can be hard; it often is. The life of a Christian can be hard. Jesus pronounces a blessing on his followers when (not if) they are persecuted. (Matthew 5:11-12). Writing to his fellow pastor and friend Timothy, Paul likens his life in ministry to having fought a good fight and having run the long race. (2 Timohty 4:7) No image of a room full of trophies or coming to the end of wonderful cruise.

But Jesus’ prayer for his disciples on the very night that he was betrayed is that “my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.” (John 15:11) To the Corinthians Paul acknowledges affliction as part of his ministry but presents joy as greater, “In all our affliction, I am overflowing with joy.” 2 Corinthians 7:4. Reflecting on the outcome of his long ministry, John writes, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” (3 John 4)

In order to be installed as a pastor in our denomination, a physician must examine the candidate, blood pressure, cholesterol numbers, and all, and certify that the candidate “will be able to sustain the physical and emotional demands of full-time professional ministry.” The form the physician signs paints a dismal and bleak picture of the pastor’s life. No wonder we have so few people responding to a call to be a minister.

What if we added, “Must be able to fight a good fight and run a long race – and to be overflowing with joy.”?

I suppose it has been a decade or more since “The Real Reason. . .” became so commonly used by headline writers. You see it used in what could be regarded as the most respectable media and by the bottom feeder rags. We might call it the Buzzfeedization of journalism. A quick search of Google News produced these examples (you can do your own investigation):

• The Real Reason Chick-fil-A’s Chicken Is Better Than All Others
• The Real Reason American Socialists Don’t Win
• The real reason Trump is deploying the National Guard across America
• Karl Urban Explains the Real Reason Behind Mortal Kombat II Delay
• The Real Reason Men Should Read Fiction
• The real reason Meghan Markle and Prince Harry quit royal life

Taking a cue from an opinion writer who argues “Political Gnosticism Is a Modern Sickness,” we might simply say “Gnosticism is a modern sickness.”  The “Real Reason” headlines are just one symptom of our sickness. Continue reading →

I am writing this on Tuesday, August 25, 2025, an appropriate day to reflect on 25 years of posts to an internet platform. Yes, exactly 25 years ago I sent the first of what would become the weekly E-pistle to the  members of Park Presbyterian Church in Beaver PA. We were just a little over two years into our time in Beaver. Not all the members received email (do you remember something called WebTV?) and those who did had to use some awful dial-up modem to get online but it was a start. Those were the days.

Blogging was to 2000 as podcasting is to 2025. Back then every pastor thought he needed to be a blogger. Today they want to be podcasters. The worldwide web is littered with the dry skeletons and decaying corpses of what were intended to be pastors’ blogs – and podcasts.

I wonder if my greatest success as a blogger has been in my persistence. I have posted week in and week out for 25 years. I took the E-Pistle with me when we moved to Langhorne on the other side of Pennsylvania, and for twelve and a half years it was the LPC E-pistle.  And now for five years of retirement in Indiana, “Observations.” Over a thousand, maybe 1,500, posts. Or maybe my greatest success is in the grace of readers, who for 25 years, week by week, have read what I post. Perseverance of the saints, they call it.

Happy anniversary to me. Continue reading →

I learned long ago that it is best if I call a plumber when the faucet is dripping or an electrician when the lights are flickering. My attempts at do-it-yourself fixits have not typically ended well. Ask Becky about the last time I changed the oil and filter on our car. Hint: it was 1985. So, yes, thank goodness for Jiffy Lube.

When you are mechanically challenged, as I am, it is best to put the wrench down slowly, turn around, pick up the phone, and call someone who knows what they are doing.

I have been thinking about fixits and calling the experts as several situations are unfolding in areas of my life where I may have some responsibility. There are several, and the details don’t matter, other than to say these are situations where wires may be sparking, trust is slowly dripping away, and the check engine light has begun to flash.

I am tempted to pick up my wrench and try to fix what needs to be fixed. Continue reading →

If all goes according to plans, Becky and I leave for a long-anticipated trip to Brazil seven weeks from today. We’ll see some sights and we will see some friends! In preparation for good conversations with our friends, we are brushing up on our Brazilian Portuguese using an online course we really like. Professora Virginia is a Brazilian who has lived in New York City for a dozen years. She knows both American and Brazilian cultures and is a gifted teacher.

The other day I was working through a lesson Virginia titled “Don’t Be Rude! How to be polite in Brazilian Portuguese.”  The main takeaway is to avoid stand-alone imperatives, “Help me with this.” And instead to use the “futuro do pretérito,” or conditional verb tense, along with a “por favor.” “Would you help me with this, please?”  Yes, it’s always a good idea to be polite, especially if you are a stranger in a strange land. Continue reading →