I attended a funeral yesterday of a man I didn’t know, but whose brother has attended the church I pastor for many years. The service was officiated by a man who I had never met. As I listened to him, I noticed that he was not the most eloquent speaker, that he didn’t pastor a mega-church, and he was very much a “country-preacher.” But it didn’t take me long to sense something deeper in this man and it left me both humbled and challenged.
I listened to this preacher talk about the many conversations he had over the years with the now-deceased man. How many times he had told him about the Lord and tried to get him to surrender his life to Jesus Christ. And how many times the man had said to him, “I know you’re right, but I’m just not ready.” Thankfully, the man eventually did accept Christ before his passing. But what struck me was the devotion this pastor has demonstrated to his duty to win people for the Lord. He drives a school bus to help pay his bills. Then he gives himself to the people in his church, getting to know them, their children, and their grandchildren. You will probably never meet him. His name will never be mentioned on the blogs or at leadership conferences. He will never write a book – he even admitted he could barely write! But I listened to him with tears in his eyes plead with the people there to give their lives to Christ. And I found myself crying with him.
Two things I want to say right now. First, I want to be found faithful like this pastor. I just felt God’s pleasure listening to Him. I could almost imagine God smiling and pleased with this faithful son. And I realized how easy it is for me to forget what my work is all about. Sure, I want to be a better leader and build a great church. But in the process, I don’t ever want to get to a place where I don’t take the time to invest in relationships with people that need the Lord.
Secondly, I have resolved that I want to spend my life helping this kind of person. I want to do what I can to resource them and minister to them so they don’t feel like they are alone. I’m not talking about just telling them how to build a bigger church. I’m talking about encouraging them and helping them to know that they are really making a difference, and to be one who will be there to listen to them, let them cry on my shoulder, and also to celebrate their victories with them.
I am humbled at the thought.
