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Sitting in the Pastor’s office at old First Church was a bit intimidating.  I was a college student seeking advise from the Pastor of my home church. I  had lots of energetic, pre-seminary, business management major, know-it-all enthusiasms.

Having just written a paper on “Management by Objectives” I dropped a few key phrases into the conversation then asked him about what goals and objectives he pursued for the church’s ministry.

He looked at me for a while, then with a patronizing smile that was probably practised over many years, he said, “Oh I don’t have any goals at all for the church.  In fact I see the church like a great cruise ship: while at sea it doesn’t matter what direction you head as long as there is lots of food and drink and everyone has a good time.”

My discomfort with his analogy stayed with me for the rest of my life.  I watched the once great First Church under his ‘leadership’ slide from over 4000 vibrant members to become an aging congregation of about 400 faithful saints.  When he finally retired there wasn’t much to commend his decades of pastoral care.

The church is not the Love Boat, and the Pastor is not Captain Stubbing.  No amount of food, drink and mediocre music can replace the passion of God’s people called together for a purpose greater than their own comfort.

When the passion to pursue God’s active agenda in our lives is replaced by the deadening addiction to personal peace and comfort, a death spiral begins from which few churches have reversed or survived.

Bob Dylan sang, “He who isn’t busy being born, is busy dying.” This applies to us individually and also as a church.

Being born takes work and time.  a young mom-to-be carries a new life for nine months before introducing the baby to the world.  Few would describe the birth process as effortless, painless or easy.  Why do we expect spiritual birthing to be any different?

I am too often impatient, preferring instantaneous results for any and all my efforts.  I also experience discouragement when life doesn’t happen according to my preconceived expectations.  I think I may have an inner clock that sounds an alarm in my head when something takes too long.

One of the many times Eileen and I were seeing a marriage counselor, the therapist gave us a gift: it was a clock for our home.  Around the clock face was the reminder: “God’s timing is perfect.”  A reminder that my internal alarms didn’t always line up with God’s life-giving timetable.

I think I’ll look for the joy instead of the quick results this time.