Check out the earlier articles in this series where Maxie shared about the need for personal holiness (part 1), surrender (part 2), character (part 3), faithfulness (part 4), the wisdom of the saints (part 5), discipline and obedience (part 6).

Two more characteristics of the saints I want us to explore as we wrestle with the question, “Will I finish well?” Closely akin to the issue of obedience is a third characteristic of the saints: they didn’t seek ecstasy, but surrender to the will of the Lord. 

The Meaning of Surrender in Christian Leadership

In her strange and beautiful book which is part memoir and part meditation, The Cloister Walk, Kathleen Norris talks about the experience of becoming a Benedictine oblate. She said she knew two things: One, she didn’t feel ready to do it, but she had to act, to take the plunge. Two, she had no idea where it would lead. An oblation is an abbreviated, yet powerful profession of monastic vows. A person attaches herself to a particular monastery by signing a document on the altar during mass. The promise is that you will follow the rule of Saint Benedict in so far as your situation in life will allow. Norris confessed, 

The fact that I had been raised a thorough Protestant, with little knowledge of religious orders, and no sense of monasticism as a living tradition, was less an obstacle to my becoming an oblate than the many doubts about the Christian religion that had been with me since my teens. Still, although I had little sense of where I had been, I knew that standing before the altar in a monastery chapel was a remarkable place for me to be, and making an oblation was remarkable, if not, incomprehensible, thing for me to be doing. 

The word “oblate” is from the Latin for “to offer.” And Jesus Himself is often referred to as an “oblation” in the literature of the early church. Many people now translate “oblate” as “associate,” and while that may seem to describe the relationship modern oblates have with monastic communities, it does not adequately convey the religious dimension of being an oblate. Substituting the word “associate” for the “oblation” in reference to Jesus demonstrates this all too well; no longer an offering, Jesus becomes a junior partner in a law firm. The ancient word “oblate” proved instructive for me. Having no idea what it meant, I appreciated its rich history when I first looked it up in the dictionary. But I also felt it presumptuous to claim to be an “offering” and was extremely reluctant to apply to myself a word that had so often been applied to Jesus Christ. (Kathleen Norris, The Cloister Walk, xvii-xviii)

After making that confession, Norris told about the monk who was to be her oblate director – that is, the one who guided her studies of the rule (a period that was supposed to last a year but rambled on for nearly three). She spoke with appreciation for this spiritual guide who waited patiently for her to sort out her muddle. Finally she said to him, “I can’t imagine why God would want me, of all people, as an offering. But if God is foolish enough to take me as I am, I guess I had better do it.” 

The monk smiled broadly and said, “You’re ready.”

That kind of submission was the ongoing concern of the saints. They did not seek ecstasy, but surrender to the Lord. They knew that submission in the Bible is a love word, not a control word. It means letting another love you, teach you, influence you, shape you. On the human level, the degree to which we submit to others is the degree to which we will experience their love. Regardless of how much love another has for us, it can’t be appropriated by us unless we are open, vulnerable, and submissive.

The saints experienced the same thing in relation to God. They knew that it is only when we can imagine what God wants with us, or what He might do with it, and certainly when we are humble enough to know that anything He does for us or with us is all grace, only then that we put ourselves in the position for the Spirit to work within us. 

Surrender Over Ecstasy: How the Holy Spirit Actually Leads

While we are not to seek ecstasy but surrender, Paul weds the two in a remarkable way. Here is one example of it.

They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. When they had come opposite Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them; so, passing by Mysia, they went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision: there stood a man of Macedonia pleading with him and saying, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them. (Acts 6:6-10)

Paul was not seeking an ecstatic experience, but he was open and responsive to the Spirit’s working in his life. He followed what some would certainly label ecstatic – a vision of a man begging, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” Paul interpreted this vision as God’s call to go to Macedonia and preach the Gospel.

He went specifically to Philippi, the major city in the Macedonian region, a port city, and easy to get to. Miraculous things happened there. Lydia, a Gentile businesswoman, was converted and the Philippian church was established in her house. A slave girl was delivered of “a spirit of divination” which led to Paul and Silas being beaten and thrown into jail. There in jail the third miracle took place. When Paul and Silas were praying and praising God at midnight, God honored their trust and faithfulness by throwing open the prison doors and freeing them. This miracle led to the conversion of the jailer.

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was an earthquake, so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were unfastened. When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed that the prisoners had escaped. But Paul shouted in a loud voice, “Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.” The jailer called for lights, and rushing in, he fell down trembling before Paul and Silas. Then he brought them outside and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?”  They answered, “Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.” They spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. At the same hour of the night he took them and washed their wounds; then he and his entire family were baptized without delay. (Acts 16:25-33)

The conversion of a Gentile businesswoman and a jailer, along with the healing of a demon-possessed slave girl – all the result of Paul’s surrender to an ecstatic vision. The lesson is clear. When we are open to the Spirit, and cease trusting our own wisdom and power, our actions, and accomplishments will far exceed our normal potential and capacity as commonly perceived. Jean-Pierre de Caussade addressed the issue in this fashion:

Those who have gauged the depths of their own nothingness can no longer retain any kind of confidence in themselves, nor trust in any way to their works in which they can discover nothing but misery, self-love and corruption. This absolute distrust and complete disregard of self is the source from which alone flow those delightful consolations of souls wholly abandoned to God, and form their unalterable peace, holy joy and immovable confidence in God only. (Jean-Pierre de Caussade, Llewelyn, pg. 249).

We need to keep balance: never trust our own resources alone, but never doubt that the Spirit will use us, often in remarkable, even miraculous ways. Again, the key is not to seek ecstasy, but surrender and openness to the Spirit’s working.

The Pursuit of Holiness and Purity of Heart

The fourth and final characteristic of the saints that I would mention is this: they were thirsty for holiness.

If there is no obvious difference between a Christian and a non-Christian, something is wrong – seriously wrong. Paul made a graphic distinction between those who belong to the day and those who belong to the night.

But you, beloved, are not in darkness, for that day to surprise you like a thief; for you are all children of light and children of the day; we are not of the night or of darkness. So then let us not fall asleep as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober; for those who sleep sleep at night, and those who are drunk get drunk at night. But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, and put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. For God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing. (I Thess. 5:4-11)

See the sharp distinction between “children of light” and “children of darkness.” What Jesus wants is not admirers, but disciples – those who will conform their lives to His. 

Meister Eckhart warned that “There are many who are willing to follow our Lord half-way – but not the other half.” (The Imitation of Christ, arr. and ed. Douglas V. Steere, Great Devotional Classics, Nashville, TN, The Upper Room. 1950, pg. 8)

In his introduction to a short collection of passages from The Imitation of Christ, Douglas Steere says:

The Imitation not only recruits disciples from those who have been admirers.It would train and draw these disciples along until they were willing to enter “the other half,” the half where the easy charts and pocket maps vanish and where there are no return tickets available. It, too, would launch them out upon the 70,000 fathoms of water where the foot can no longer touch bottom, where there is no longer any trusting God and keeping your powder dry, but where one must now trust God and take what comes a day at a time. (Steere, pp. 8-9)

All the saints acknowledged this. They were thirsty for holiness and sought to conform their lives wholly to Christ.

The end toward which we move in our thirst for holiness is purity of heart. The Puritan divines labeled this heart-work. John Flavel, a seventeenth-century English Puritan, put it in this perspective: the “greatest difficulty in conversion, is to win the heart to God; the greatest difficulty after conversion, is to keep the heart with God… Heart-work is hard work indeed.” (Keeping the Heart, Grand Rapids, MI, Sovereign Grace Publishers, 1971, pp. 5, 12).

The crux of our heart-work toward holiness is our will fully surrendered to Christ so that God can take full possession of us. The Apostle Paul expressed it autobiographically:

But if, in our effort to be justified in Christ, we ourselves have been found to be sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! But if I build up again the very things that I once tore down, then I demonstrate that I am a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing. (Gal 2:17-21)

Holiness requires the full surrender of our independent self-will in order that God can eradicate our self-orientation. I have a young friend named Tammy who is living this Jesus style dramatically. She was converted at the University of Georgia. She arrived at Asbury Seminary as a student about the same time I came as president. I didn’t learn her story until a couple of years later. She arrived at school with only enough money to take her through the first semester. Hers is a modern faith miracle story. She worked as much as she could, but there was no way she could work enough to pay her tuition and living expenses. So she prayed. She never asked for money, but time and again when she had nothing, no money to continue, somehow it would come. 

The summer before her last year in seminary, she went to India on a short-term mission. By a series of circumstances and following God’s call, she returned to India a year later to establish “Grace House,” a home for street children. When I last heard from Tammy, there were sixty children under her care in two different facilities. The story is the same as it had been during her years in seminary. She is totally dependent upon the Lord. I have never known her to ask anyone for money, but miraculously she receives what she needs.

Indeed it is the Lord who always sustains lasting ministry.

Holiness, surrender, obedience, discipline – these words mark the pages and my imagination as I think of finishing well. The saints before us have shown a way for sustainable ministry. Do we want to be holy? Will we offer our own ‘personal holiness’ to our congregation’s need for the Kingdom?

Check out the earlier articles in this series where Maxie shared about the need for personal holiness (part 1), surrender (part 2), character (part 3), faithfulness (part 4), and the wisdom of the saints (part 5).

If we want to finish well in our ministry, we do well to look to those who have walked before us. In my studies and conversations I have noticed several I wish to elaborate for these articles.

First, they practiced discipline, at the heart of which was prayer.

Sister Marie Bonaventura was living a relaxed life as a nun in Rome. After much encouragement, she was finally persuaded to attend a conference on the Exercises, the disciplines of the spiritual life. The very first meditation was on the purpose and end of man. The meditation inspired such fervor in her heart that the priest, giving the meditation, had scarcely finished when she called him to her, and said, “Father I mean to be a saint, and quickly.” She then went to her cell, and writing the same words on a scrap of paper, she fastened it to her crucifix, where it would be a constant reminder.

The saints have all known that there is no way “to be a saint, and quickly.” St. Francis de Sales gave direction for our beginning journey. ”We must begin with a strong and constant resolution to give ourselves wholly to God, professing to Him, in a tender, loving manner, from the bottom of our hearts, that we intend to be His without any reserve, and then we must often go back and renew this same resolution.” (St. Francis de Sales, A Year With The Saints, p. 2)

One of the most inspiring models of discipline in the sports world over the past few decades was the rise of Tiger Woods. He is unquestionably one of the best golfers in the history of the game. At age twenty-one, he won the Masters Tournament – the youngest ever to win and by a record twelve strokes. In an article on “How the Best Golfer in the World Got Even Better,” Don Goodgame wrote:

For a glimpse into the greatness of Tiger Woods, look past his runaway victory in the British Open at St. Andrews last month. Forget his triumph – also by a record margin – in the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach in June. And set aside his prospects for stomping the field in another major tournament, next week’s PGA Championship at Valhalla. Consider, instead, what Woods did right after he dominated the 1997 Masters. He studied videotapes of his performance: blasting 300-yd. drives, hitting crisp iron shots right at the pins, draining putts from everywhere. And he thought, as he later told friends, my swing really sucks.

Now let’s put that in perspective. Woods had joined the pro tour only seven months earlier, at age 20, and captivated the game and its fans as no rookie ever had. He had won four of the 15 PGA Tour tournaments he entered, earning millions in prize money and some $60 million in endorsement contracts from the likes of Nike and Titleist. At the Masters, against the best golfers in the world, he had virtually lapped the field, winning by a record 12 strokes. He was being hailed as the next Jack Nicklaus, who is considered one of the greatest golfers of all time.

And now, incredibly, Woods was going to risk it all by overhauling the swing that had brought him to this summit. He told his coach he wanted to make serious changes in the way he struck the ball. The history of such efforts is not auspicious. Some fine golfers – Ian Baker-Finch, Steve Ballesteros, Chip Beck – have revamped their swing and never returned to their earlier glory. What was Woods thinking?

“I knew I wasn’t in the greatest positions in my swing at the Masters,” Woods said during an interview. “But my timing was great, so I got away with it. And I made almost every putt. You can have a wonderful week like that even when your swing isn’t sound. But can you still contend in tournaments with that swing when your timing isn’t as good? Will it hold up over a long period of time? The answer to those questions, with the swing I had, was no. And I wanted to change that.” In other words, Woods, already considered the best by many of his peers, was gambling that he could get dramatically better – and was willing to do whatever he thought might help him someday surpass his idol Nicklaus as the greatest ever.” (Time, August 14, 2000, pp. 57-58)

Though Tiger’s fall from such heights have since been well documented, one cannot deny his discipline on the links. It is a challenge to would-be Christians. Anyone who has read the gospels knows that Jesus’ call is to a “narrow way.” He couldn’t have made it clearer.

How to Grow Spiritually: The Role of Discipline in the Christian Life

Then Jesus told his disciples, “if any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it or what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life? (Matthew 16:24-26).

Paul also made it scathingly clear: “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” (Romans 12:1)

I don’t know a Christian in all the ages to whom we turn for teaching and inspiration who did not give himself or herself consistently to discipline and devotion. It should be obvious that we need to place the disciplines for the spiritual life at the heart of the gospel. The purpose of discipline is to enhance our relationship with Christ, to cultivate a vivid companionship with Him. It is through spiritual discipline that we learn to be like Him and live as He lived.

In his book, The Road Less Traveled, psychiatrist Scott Peck observed:

There are many people I know who possess a vision of [personal] evolution yet seem to lack the will for it. They want, and believe it is possible, to skip over the discipline, to find an easy shortcut to sainthood. Often they attempt to attain it by simply imitating the superficialities of saints, retiring to the desert or taking up carpentry. Some even believe that by such imitation they have really become saints and prophets, and are unable to acknowledge that they are still children and face the painful fact that they must start at the beginning and go through the middle. (p. 72-73)

Sister Marie Bonoventura’s commitment may have been genuine: “Father I mean to be a saint” but her time-line – “and quickly” – is really laughable. We “must start at the beginning and go through the middle.”

The beginning is, as de Sales said, “a strong and constant resolution to give ourselves wholly to God” and the middle consists of often going back to renew this same resolution.

What Does Obedience to God Really Mean? Beyond Rule-Following

Another characteristic of the saints is that they were concerned about obedience. They were convinced that obedience was essential for their life and growth. We remember that word of Jesus: “Not every one who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of My Father in heaven. On that day, many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and cast our demons in your name and do many deeds of power in your name?’ Then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.” (Matt. 7:21-23)

We do have a right to ask, to seek, and to know the will of God, but once we know it, nothing but obedience will do. The saints sought to arrive at the place in their relationship to Christ that their one longing was to live and walk in a way that would please God and bring glory to God’s name.

Obedience meant abandonment. Jean-Pierre de Caussade wrote to one who depended upon his spiritual guidance that abandonment to God “is, of all practices, the most divine.”

Your way of acting in times of trouble and distress gives me great pleasure. To be submissive, to abandon yourself entirely without reserve, to be content with being discontented for as long as God wills or permits, will make you advance more in one day than you would in a hundred days spent in sweetness and consolation. Your total abandonment to God, practiced in a spirit of confidence, and of union with Jesus Christ doing always the will of his father, is, of all practices, the most divine. (Llewelyn, pg. 101)

What a simple, yet profound expression of abandonment: “to be content with being discontented for as long as God wills or permits.” A friend of mine, Norman Neaves, was the pastor of The Church of the Servant in Oklahoma City. He shared about a member of his congregation who wrote him a letter at 2:47 in the morning. She couldn’t sleep that night, was upset and troubled on the inside, so she poured her feelings out to him. This is what she wrote:

Which state of grief is this? Or is it grief at all? Just when I experience a little consistency in my new life alone, the next rug I step on is pulled out from under me. Is this all a part of adjusting, or am I being humbled for some greater purpose? My faith is not strong enough to stand on. But my instinct to survive this lonely stretch of my life is so compelling that I’m able to leave the security of my past and go on. Why do my thoughts wake me up in the night, screaming out for paper and pen? There are so few answers, I’ve found. It would be nice to have the comfort back, but not at the expense of my very own soul. So what can I do? Well, I think I will continue to feel my way back through the dark, feeding my faith until someday the lights come on again. (“Living Down In the Valley, sermon preached December 2, 1990)

Does this remind you of the Apostle Paul?

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. . . I rejoice in the Lord greatly that now at last you have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned for me, but had no opportunity to show it. Not that I am referring to being in need; for I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Phil. 4:4-7, 10-13)

Our spiritual formation is a dynamic process, a growing willingness, or even a willingness to be made willing, to say yes to God every day in every way possible – no matter what the circumstances may be. The more we pay attention to God, the more aware we will become of the yet-to-be redeemed areas of our life – and the more we will need to abandon ourselves to the transforming power of the indwelling Christ.

How to Know God’s Will: Scripture, the Holy Spirit, and Christian Community

Jesus made clear how essential abandonment is when He taught us to pray, “Thy will be done.” There are two common ways we pray this prayer. Sometimes, we wrestle against God. We receive intimations of something God wants us to do, some call – and we wrestle against God because we are not sure we want to respond. Or, we come face to face with an issue of God’s justice and holiness – and we resist. We don’t want to do it.

But there is also another kind of wrestling. It is not wrestling against God; it’s a matter of wrestling with God against that which opposes God’s will. It really becomes a matter of spiritual warfare. We sense that there are forces within our world which are opposed to God’s will: sickness, hate, meanness, narrowness of spirit, fear, lethargy, prejudice, and ill will. I speak of our warfare against the forces of darkness – we wrestle against Satan himself. We set ourselves against all such forces and to them we cry, “God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

There is the whole issue of abandonment. Sometimes when we pray, “Thy will be done,” it is a declaration of submission in which we confess that we do not know what is best but we want God’s will. We struggle, we wrestle, we stay in the presence of the Lord until our hearts are made tender, and we’re ready to trust God and surrender our will to Him.

My favorite story about Lourdes has to do with an old priest at that famous healing center who was asked one time by a newspaper reporter to describe the most impressive miracle he’d ever seen there. The reporter expected him to talk about the amazing recovery of someone who had come to Lourdes ill and walked away well. “Not at all,” the old priest said, “if you want to know the greatest miracle that I have ever seen at Lourdes, it is the look of radiant resignation on the face of those who turn away unhealed!” That’s abandonment! – thy will be done as a declaration of submission, confessing that all we want is God’s will – because we know that it is best for us.

There are three seeds which, when planted in the soil of obedience, produce the fruit of God’s will in our lives: one, Scripture study; two, conferencing, that is deliberately and honestly sharing with godly persons for edification and discernment God’s will and guidance; and three, divine conviction wrought by the Holy Spirit.

In the divine school of obedience, we all know there is only one text book – and that is Scripture. We also know there is only one model – and that is Jesus. We also know and have experienced the way the Holy Spirit will plant a deep, deep conviction without our lives, calling us to go in a particular direction.

What Is Christian Conferencing and Why Does It Matter for Spiritual Growth?

I want to talk about a resource of knowing God’s will that I think we pay too little attention to – that is Christian conferencing. Jesus promised that where two or three are gathered together in His Name, He would be present with us. Conferencing with godly persons who love Jesus, who want God’s will for their lives and for us, is a trustful and dependable way to seek God’s will.

One of the most dramatic moves in my life was based on my accepting God’s will through Christian conferencing. My primary calling is clear: to be a pastor/preacher. I was exercising this vocation with great joy, fruitful response, deep meaning, and continual spiritual growth as senior minister of a large congregation. People were being converted, healed and coming to maturity in Christ. Our outreach ministries to the “least of these” and to non-Christians were expanding. My wife and I could not have been happier. We had served that congregation for twelve years, and intended to stay until retirement.
Then came the call to the presidency of Asbury Theological Seminary. For months I would not even consider the possibility, refusing to even talk with the search committee. The Holy Spirit impressed upon my wife the notion that I should at least consider what seemed to be a clear call through the committee. So we did – but without clarity on my part. In desperation, really, I began a conferencing process with Godly persons whom I loved and trusted, some with whom I had shared my Christian walk for twenty-five years. I knew they loved God. I was certain they loved me, and wanted God’s best for me.

It was through them that I discerned God’s will. Since making the decision to accept the seminary presidency seven years ago I’ve had little doubt (and that only during brief periods) that I was in the center of God’s will. Over and over again my calling to this ministry has been confirmed.

As stated earlier, there is a general will of God for all His children which we can, to a marked degree, learn from the Bible. There is, however, a special individual application of God’s will concerning each of us personally. This comes to us only through the Holy Spirit. On these occasions, the Holy Spirit plants solidly in our being certain convictions about God’s will. We dare not quench the Spirit. Yet, it is altogether in keeping with God’s direction that we test these convictions with Scripture and Christian conferencing. Again, however, once we know God’s will, nothing but obedience will do.

Check out the earlier articles in this series where Maxie shared about the need for personal holiness (part 1), surrender (part 2), character (part 3), and faithfulness (part 4).

It is not enough to recognize that the fruit and progress that result from our leadership are based on strong character. We must practice the disciplines that build that character and make us the prophet/priest God calls us to be.

Why Character Matters in Christian Leadership

Some of you will remember Frank Harrington. He was the long-time minister of Peachtree Road Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, one of the great churches in the nation. I remember the last time I was with Frank, before his death. I told him a story about my in-laws – Jerry’s mother and father – who live in Atlanta. Frank was one of their favorite television preachers. One Sunday morning as they listened, they were bolted in surprise by Frank’s reference to their son, Randy, Jerry’s brother. Randy had died of cancer a few years before. I had written about Randy’s death in one of my books, and quoted a letter that Randy had written to me in the midst of his suffering with cancer. Frank used that letter as an illustration in his sermon – he mentioned my and Randy’s names. Well you can imagine how that took Gerald and Lora by surprise – to hear a letter, written by their son, going out to bless thousands of people who had heard Frank preach. 

Well, I told Frank that story. The next week, when he was back in Atlanta, he called my in-laws and shared a pastoral visit over the phone. He had thousands of people in his congregation, a national television ministry – yet he took the time to call two people whom he’d never met and shared with them the love of Christ. He was a model preacher in many ways.

How to Grow Spiritually: Questions Every Leader Should Ask

I remember one of his own experiences which he shared. When he went off to college, he was a candidate for the ministry under the care of Harmony Presbytery in South Carolina. Once a year he had to appear before the presbytery in person to give an account of his progress, his plans, and his studies. “In retrospect,” he said, “there’s only one thing I remember about those appearances. Mr. Knox, an older white-haired minister, would get up and ask the same question every time I was there. ‘Frank, are you making any progress in your walk with Christ?’

That’s the sort of question we need to ask ourselves – and we need to do it probably by asking ourselves three different questions: 

One, am I growing?

Two, do I want to change?

Three, how deep is my desire for holiness?

What Is Spiritual Formation?

All of us could recall the events and crucial timeframes in our ministry which were watershed occasions, transition times, marking dramatic redirection or paradigm shifts in our understanding of vocation, church, the Christian life, and spirituality. One of those came for me when I was invited to join the staff of The Upper Room to direct a ministry, primarily calling people to a life of prayer, providing direction and resources for growth in and the practice of prayer – giving structure to a united expression of prayer by people around the world. I told Dr. Wilson Weldon, then editor of The Upper Room, that the fact the board was inviting me to assume this responsibility showed the church to be in desperate straits, since I was such a novice in this area of life and its development.

This responsibility forced me to be even more deliberate and disciplined in my own personal life of prayer. It introduced me to a wider dimension of spirituality than I had known. During those days, I knew no one within the Protestant tradition who was talking about spiritual formation. The Roman Catholics have known the importance of this aspect of Christian growth and have used “formation” language through the centuries. It wasn’t long before we at The Upper Room were talking about spiritual formation and seeking to provide resources for a broader expression of spirituality than we had known before.

Spiritual Disciplines for Christian Leaders: Lessons from the Saints

I became intensely interested in the great devotional classics. The Upper Room had published a collection of little booklets – selections from the great spiritual writings of the ages, writers whose names I barely knew and to whose writings I was a stranger: Julian of Norwich, William Law, Francois Fenelon, Francis of Assisi, Evelyn Underhill, Brother Lawrence, and an array of others. I began a deliberate practice of keeping company with the saints, seeking to immerse myself in the writings of these folks, which endured through the centuries, expressing Christian faith in life and becoming classic resources for the Christian pilgrimage. Parenthetically, out of this keeping company with the saints have come two workbooks – Keeping Company With the Saints and Lessons From the Saints.

As I have kept company with the saints, I’ve observed some characteristics they had in common:

… they passionately sought the Lord

… they discovered a gracious God

… they took Scripture seriously

… Jesus was alive in their experience

… they practiced discipline, at the heart of which was prayer

… they didn’t seek ecstasy but surrender of their will to the Lord

… they were thirsty for holiness

… they lived not for themselves but for God and for others

… they knew joy and peace, transcending all circumstances.

I submit these to you as the dynamic that will enable you to stay alive in your ministry and guarantee that you will finish well.

Check out the earlier articles in this series where Maxie shared about the need for personal holiness (part 1), surrender (part 2), and character (part 3).

A couple of years ago I was smitten in my heart by a word I heard in the ordination service of the Free Methodist Church. It was verses 4 and 5 of Ezekiel 2: 

The people to whom I am sending you are obstinate and stubborn. Say to them, ‘This is what the sovereign Lord says.’ And whether they listen – for they are a rebellious house – they will know that a prophet has been among them.” (NIV)

God’s Call to Ministry Is About Faithfulness, Not Success

Ezekiel is sharing his personal story of God coming to him in a vision and calling him to be a prophet/priest. He sees the “glory of Yahweh” coming down from heaven and it is so overwhelming that he falls on his face. But the Lord will not let him remain there: “Son of man, stand on your feet, and I will speak with you.” And the Lord does speak. The message which Ezekiel is to preach is given to him in a kind of scroll. So, Ezekiel receives his appointment. It is not a promising situation. Not the planting of a new church that is sure to grow in an exciting fashion. Not to be the senior pastor of First Church downtown which has tremendous influence in the entire community. Not an appointment to a rapidly growing church in suburbia. It is a hard call and God makes it clear. In exercising his prophetic office, Ezekiel will have to preach to deaf ears and dwell among scorpions. Now all of us have preached to deaf ears – but none of us have dwelt among scorpions – though one of our student pastors told me recently he had some polecats in his congregation. There is no prospect of success laid on the prophet in his initial call to ministry. And that burden of no prospect continues to increase as God continues to speak. 

In this call of Ezekiel, there are some lessons, some directions, and powerful promises to us as we contemplate the fact that the fruit and progress that result from our leadership are based on strong character. 

Listening to God as the Foundation of Spiritual Leadership

First, God says, “Stand on your feet and I will speak to you.” (2:1) The lesson? We are to listen. Our stance must always be a receptive one. “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.” 

Now note the second thing. After hearing God tell him to “stand on his feet,” so that He might speak to him, Ezekiel says, “As he spoke, the Spirit came into me and raised me to my feet and I heard Him speaking to me.” The lesson? It is not our ability to do what God calls us to do, but our willingness to respond, to yield, to attempt what He calls us to that releases God’s power. God called Ezekiel, “Stand on your feet” but then – as Ezekiel says – “a Spirit entered into me and set me on my feet.” 

We may express this second lesson in this fashion: God does not call us to a ministry or a mission that we can accomplish in our own strength and with our own resources – but only with His divine aid. In that way, we’re kept on our knees, dependent upon Him.

Character and Holiness in Ministry Flow from God’s Word

Then there is a third lesson and a promise. Listen to it, Ezekiel 3:1-3: “And He said to me, ‘Son of man, eat what is before you, eat this scroll: then go and speak to the house of Israel.’ So I opened my mouth and he gave me the scroll to eat. Then He said to me, ‘Son of man, eat this scroll I am giving you and fill your stomach with it.’ So I ate it and it tasted as sweet as honey in my mouth.” 

The lesson? We must become one with God’s word. We must depend upon His sustenance. What we say must be matched by how we live. It is then that people will know that a prophet is among them. That’s what character and holiness are all about as it relates to our Christian vocation.

So far in this series, I have shared how personal holiness and surrender have kept me spiritually alive throughout my ministry. Let me now make my case and offer specific notions which I pray might have at least some hints of wisdom. 

Spiritual, emotional, and relational growth takes time and energy. It requires discipline. It diverts us from “pastoral duties” which will eat us alive if we don’t keep perspective. When we start in ministry, we’re enthusiastic for God and we want nothing more than to be sterling men and women of God. Whether it’s due to our seminary training, or ecclesiastical machinery, or competition among pastors, early on we’re tempted to become increasingly preoccupied with success. We start climbing the ladder, looking for a bigger church, a bigger salary, and greater recognition. 

Later in ministry, we realize how we’ve strayed. It’s not that we have ignored spiritual growth and character completely, but we’ve not had the time or inclination to concern ourselves with it.

Somewhere along the way, most of us wake up to the fact that we have not kept perspective. If we have not forsaken our first love, we certainly have not kept that love alive. We’ve not given it first place.

Why Character Matters More Than Leadership Skills

Unfortunately, many of us are in our forties and fifties before we come to this realization. Here, then, is my first assertion: All the permanent fruit and progress that result from our leadership are based on strong character. Let me say that again: All the permanent fruit and progress that result from our leadership are based on strong character. Who we are is more crucial than what we do. That is a part of why McCheyne’s word which I quoted earlier is so important. “The greatest need of my congregation is my own personal holiness.” 

Now here is a shocking fact: our ministry has the potential of handicapping character. Although the average parishioner thinks being a pastor makes it easier to grow character, we know otherwise. Vocational ministry can dry and stiffen the red, tacky earth of the human spirit for several reasons. Note some of these.

Common Obstacles to Pastoral Spiritual Growth

For one, the need for job security. It arises from the good and natural inclination to provide for our families.  How much of our ministry, the tone and direction of our ministry, is shaped by this need? Congregations can be fickle. Staff/Parish Relations Committees can be unrealistic and demanding. Too many churches demand far more of their leader than is possible. 

Without conscious awareness, this need for job security does affect significantly how we do ministry – it certainly impacts the prophetic edge of our ministry. I remember an occasion early in my ministry, during the racial upheavals in Mississippi in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. I had taken a clear stand with the Civil Rights movement, which brought me into direct conflict with many folks in the church. At one point, the leaders held a special board meeting to confront the issue – some supporting and others opposing me.

After the meeting had gone on for some time, one opponent who wielded substantial power in the church, asked, “Well, Maxie, what can we expect of you in the future?”

It had to be the Spirit working within me. I heard myself saying, “You can expect me to be consistent with what I feel the Gospel is calling me to do.” 

I wish I could claim that I have always been that clear in my convictions, and always that strong. It simply hasn’t been the case. All of us – when we are honest – probably would confess that our need for job security has shaped our ministry. And that becomes a handicap for character-building.

Akin to this is a second reality – that is the frequent moves of pastors from one congregation to another. The facts are astounding, really. When we are constantly on the move, moving from one congregation to another every two or three or four years, we don’t have the opportunity to clarify troubling issues or work through recurring problems in our own personhood and character. 

High and unrealistic expectations are another hindrance. I remember a story about a woman who approached the great Scots preaching Alexander Whyte, complimented him profusely, and said, “Oh, Dr. Whyte, if I could just be as saintly as you are!” 

“Madam,” he replied, “If you could see into my heart, you would spit in my face.”

We may fear that if people discover who we really are, we’re finished, or at a minimum, our credibility and influence will wane. The human reflex is to hide, put on a mask. Hypocrisy is the greatest temptation of religious professionals. 

The opposite of high expectations is another hindrance – stereotyping. Some people don’t want us to be real saints. Those who by word and deed call people to more Christlike behavior. They want us to be merely nice, fulfilling our role with reasonable skill and efficiency. Under that expectation, it’s easy to become complacent. Instead of striving to become all that Christ calls us to be, we simply do what is expected of us: regular hospital calls, decent sermons, warm blessings at women’s groups. Ministry may certainly be that much – but it is not only that much – it’s far more.

Though Les and Leslie Parrott are dealing with this next issue, I have to register it. Family pressures can really handicap character – and can play a significant role in our quest for holiness. Family pressures aren’t unique to a minister’s family, but they are exacerbated by the pressures of ministry. We must pay close attention to our families and how we grow in relation to each other within the family.

Preventing Burnout in Ministry Through Spiritual Self-Examination

The big point I want to make is that we need to be aware of the fact that our professional ministry has dimensions that thwart character development and growth in holiness. We can deal with the temptations that come with our vocation by continually asking ourselves questions like these:

1. Am I resisting image-building by living as transparently as possible.

2. Am I dealing with the self-deceit that comes from the applause of others?

3. Am I keeping my calling clear, resisting both the temptation for security and a competitive spirit?

4. Am I defensive when asked questions about the use of my time and the consistency of my spiritual disciplines?

5. Am I blaming others for things that are my own fault and the result of my own choices?

Let me restate the claim. “All the permanent fruit and progress that result from our leadership are based on strong character.”

In my last article, I took the long way around to getting to where I really want to be in my sharing with you. Often the Holy Spirit speaks to us in some very personal way to lift us out of discouragement – but not only so, calls us to make an on-course adjustment in our pattern of life and ministry.

I don’t know who Thomas Fuller is, but I owe him an enthusiastic expression of gratitude. He provided a warning that has become a kind of motto for me. I came upon it about eight months before I accepted the presidency of Asbury Seminary. Here is his word: “Let not thy will roar, when thy power can but whisper.”

Let that register solidly in your mind: “Let not thy will roar when thy power can but whisper.” I discovered that statement in my devotional reading in May of 1993. Putting a date on it has meaning. With that in mind, let me share a confession that will put it in perspective and signify why that admonition is so meaningful to me.

From Poverty to Perfectionism

I grew up in rather severe poverty in Perry County, Mississippi. My mother and father did not go to high school. I felt myself culturally, socially, and intellectually, as well as emotionally, deprived. In reaction to that I developed an almost sick determination to achieve. To get out of that situation, to be a success. So I’ve spent a great part of my life driving myself unmercifully. The game I have played through the years is this: “See here, I am worthy of your love and acceptance.”

Throughout my life, until a few years ago, I had a recurring dream. I’m sure some of you can identify with this. The recurring dream expressed itself in different ways, but always there was the same dynamic. The setting was that I had to be somewhere to preach. It all centered in my deep feelings of inferiority, my inadequacy, and my drive to be an excellent preacher. So in my dream I would need to be somewhere to preach.

Sometimes I would be at home; the service of worship was to begin in ten minutes and I would be struggling to button the collar of my shirt, unable to do so, knowing that I was running out of time. Or, I wouldn’t be able to tie my tie. Or I might discover that the cleaner had mixed up my clothing and I would put on a pair of pants and find the coat didn’t match. Or even discover that the pants might be three or four inches too short. Or that I couldn’t button them around my waist – things that would be preventing me from getting to the church in time to preach.

The dream expressed itself in all sorts of ways which demonstrated my struggle, my fighting, the pressure and the stress, the drivenness of my life – all circling around my own feelings of inadequacy and unpreparedness, as well as the limitations of my past – yet with the drive for perfection.

Interpreting Anxiety Dreams in Ministry and Leadership

Well, I had not had that dream for a long, long time; in fact, for many years. But it happened again on Tuesday night, July 27th, 1993. I recorded that date in my journal. I felt as though the dream went on all night long. When I woke at five o’clock in the morning, I was in a sweat and I was worn out. There was no logic to the dream and the sequence made no sense. Again, it was the same old thing. I had to preach at a great convention attended by a lot of people. I had not had time to make the kind of preparation I’m committed to making; I was just too busy. I kept saying to myself, “Well, undoubtedly, I’ll get some time and I can put something together.” But time was not given and the evening for my speaking came. I threw some sermon manuscripts into a file. Now listen to this. I believe that different things in our dreams have special meaning. I put the sermons into the kind of file my wife uses for domestic work – an accordion-type file, usually brown, with ten or twelve compartments. The lesson? I need to be more dependent upon Jerry. We need to accept the care of those who love us and admit our need for that care. 

I put all the sermons and notes in that file, jumped into my car, and headed for the convention hall. I got there 15 minutes before it was time to preach and I knew I had to be by myself and get some notes ready for my speaking. I went into the first door that was available and found myself in a kind of canteen. There were chairs and tables and a counter. I sat down at a table and I began to go through the file and find something I could use that night. 

I suddenly became aware that there were three women seated at a table in the room. I don’t know where they came from, but there they were. One of them brought me a glass of milk. It was a beautiful gesture. The lesson? Life is not a competitive battle. We’re all gifted. We don’t have to constantly prove ourselves. We can’t live independently; we need each other.

Then I became aware that there were four men sitting at a table over in a corner of the room. One of them looked at me, recognized me, came over immediately, and introduced himself as a minister. He told me he had been reading all of my books and using them in his church and how much he appreciated my ministry. Instead of saying to him, “Look, why don’t we have some time together after the service tonight?” I was very rude. I cut him off with some angry words about being interrupted. The lesson: we can become so frazzled that we cannot perceive opportunities to give and receive love, so involved that we can’t discern priority issues.

In desperation, I returned to my effort to find something to say. Then it was time – time to go on. I grabbed some notes and started to leave the room and go to the podium. I had on a freshly starched white shirt and my best suit – so I thought. The truth was I had on my coat, but I looked down and discovered I was wearing the pants of a jogging suit. The dream ended.

Spiritual Surrender: Let Not Thy Will Roar When Thy Power Can But Whisper

I went to my study for my morning time of prayer after that dream, having received a message from God, a message to surrender, to let go. In retrospect, I knew why I had had that dream. I was the Chair of the Committee on Evangelism for the World Methodist Council, and I was supposed to leave that coming Sunday to visit our congregations in the Czech Republic, to speak at a conference in Estonia, and to visit a congregation in Russia. I was also chairing the Board of Trustees and the search committee to find a new president for Asbury Theological Seminary. That process was just getting underway and was a huge responsibility. I was working on a book manuscript which had a deadline four weeks later. A lot of things were going on in the life of our church, Christ United Methodist in Memphis. We were growing and expanding in so many ways, adding new staff and planning a building expansion. The opportunities for ministry were almost overwhelming. On top of all that, my mother had had a stroke the Sunday afternoon preceding the dream.

So God was speaking to me again, and on that Wednesday morning I renewed my commitment to the Lord. The word from Thomas Fuller, which I had underscored in a book I had been using in my devotional time, and which had been God’s word for me, came alive. If it didn’t hint at irreverence, I would say, “The word became flesh.” “Let not your will roar, when thy power can but whisper.”

I yielded to him, I let go and I let God. I canceled my trip to Russia. I said to the Lord that I was going to do my best and be a responsible chairperson for the search committee at Asbury, but I was not going to get all stressed out about it. Some folks may be wondering about all that, since I became the president. That’s another story altogether. I accepted the fact that it would not be catastrophic if I missed my book deadline and I committed my mother to the Lord. I would continue to be the best leader I could for my congregation, but I was not going to carry the weight of it on my shoulders. God doesn’t intend that for any one of us.

So I surrendered. I realized again how limited I am and how dependent I am upon the Lord; how yielded I must be to Him if His power is going to be perfected in my weakness. The line that I had marked in my devotional reading a few days before had been made powerfully alive by my dream; “Let not your will roar when your power can but whisper.” 

Finding Strength in Weakness: Lessons for Christian Leaders

Now here’s the kicker. A year after that dream, I became the President of Asbury Theological Seminary. I accepted that call kicking and screaming, because I became convinced that it was God’s will for this particular season of my life.

How many times during my first years at Asbury did I recall that dream – and that word of the Lord from Thomas Fuller, which was connected with that dream: “Let not your will roar when your power can but whisper.”

Dreams sometimes lead where you had not intended to go. Where do you need to surrender? Where might your power yield to the Holy Spirit’s roar?

There are some experiences or encounters that are so solidly lodged in our memory they continue to invade our consciousness – to haunt us – to help us or to hinder our Christian walk, to call and challenge us to be more than we are. 

John Birkbeck is a person around whom for me a whole cluster of memories is gathered – memories that invade my immediate awareness now and then. John was a Scot Presbyterian preacher. During a part of my tenure as the World Editor of The Upper Room, he was the editor of the British edition of The Upper Room. He was a marvelous preacher in the classic style of the Scot divines.

I remember long walks in the evenings through the streets of Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Aberdeen. I remember extended hours across a table in a café over coffee – talking and talking and listening and listening. We were never together without my probing him about Christian doctrine, his own insight into Biblical truth and preaching, and the wisdom of the Scot divines. It was John who introduced me to the Scots preacher Robert Murray McCheyne. I hope I will never forget what John brought to my attention in one of McCheyne’s books. Listen to it: “The greatest need of my congregation is my own personal holiness.”

The Role of Personal Holiness in Effective Ministry Leadership

I want to lodge that solidly in all our minds. I found it true in all my years of pastoral ministry, “The greatest need of my congregation is my own personal holiness.” 

I remember a time in my life back in the early ‘60s when I was confronted with this shocking fact: I am as holy as I want to be. I was a young Methodist preacher in Mississippi. I was the organizing pastor of a congregation which had known amazing growth. It was also in the midst of the Civil Rights upheaval in the South – and Mississippi, of course, was a constant powder-keg. The church was a kind of Cinderella story – a dramatic demonstration of church growth. It became one of the success stories of Mississippi Methodism.

Overcoming Pastor Burnout and Spiritual Exhaustion

Back during those days there was no church growth literature. There was no testing of persons to see if they would make good candidates for church planting. We did it intuitively, by the “seat of our pants” as we would say down in Perry County, Mississippi. I worked myself to the bone. I was worn out physically and emotionally. I kept asking myself a lot of questions – “What is the difference between this congregation and the Rotary Club? Is there a quality of life here that is not present wherever people meet together? Why is it that most of these people have the same ideas about race relations that people outside the church have?” And on and on the questions went. 

It was a tough time and the fellowship of the church was splintered by my involvement in the Civil Rights movement. I didn’t think there was anything radical about my involvement, but many folks in the church could not understand my commitment and participation. I couldn’t understand their lack of understanding. The Gospel seemed rather clear.

The pressure, stress, and tension wore me out. I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted, and ready to throw in the towel – even had thoughts about giving up the ministry. My resources were no longer adequate. Then, one of those God things happened – you know the kind of experience I’m talking about – a signal occasion that sets us on another path or at least sends us in a different direction than we had been going.

I went to a week-long retreat/conference, a Christian Ashram, led by the world-famous missionary/evangelist E. Stanley Jones. I will never forget going to the altar one evening, to have Brother Stanley lay hands on and pray for me. He knew my story – we had shared together during the week. As I knelt, he asked me the probing question: “Do you want to be whole? Do you want to be holy?”

That was a signal sanctifying experience in my life, changing forever the direction of my ministry. Through the years since, I have constantly asked myself: Do I want to be holy? and I have constantly reminded myself that I am as holy as I want to be.

How to Manage Discouragement in Ministry

I want you to keep that tucked away in the back of your mind as I share with you about personal growth. My overall theme is “Staying Alive All Your Ministry Life.” An overarching question is, “Will you finish well?” 

I’m at the age when I can look back and plot the zigzag course of my journey and hopefully share a bit of wisdom for those who are beginning, as well as for those who have been at it for a while and have made the saving discovery that our calling and our performance in ministry require on-course adjustments all along the way. Let me illustrate by addressing just one area of ministry life – the fact that the very nature of our work makes us vulnerable to drastic moods, and one of our disciplined responses to life must be the master of our moods. 

Consider one of the most common moods: discouragement. Anybody know anything about that? Of course you do. I want you to know that it manifests itself in the greatest of leaders. You remember Moses. At one time he would express his willingness to die for his people. Listen to him as he speaks to the Lord in Exodus 32:31-32: “Oh, what a great sin these people have committed! They have made themselves gods of gold, but now, please forgive their sins – but if not, then blot me out of the book You have written.” That’s the same person – willing to die for his people – who at another time wanted to die in order to get away from them. Listen to him in Numbers 11:11-15: 

Again he’s speaking to the Lord: “ Why have you brought this trouble on your servant? What have I done to displease you that you put the burden of all these people on me? Did I conceive all these people? Did I give them birth? Why do you tell me to carry them in my arms, as a nurse carries an infant, to the land you promised on oath to their forefathers? Where can I get meat for all these people? They keep wailing to me, ‘Give us meat to eat!’ I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me. If this is how you’re going to treat me, put me to death right now.” 

It’s true, isn’t it – that we whose ministry involves seeking to lift others, and keep their eyes focused on “higher things,” have our turn trying to conquer the destructive moods in our own life. Moffatt has a wonderful translation of Job 4:3-5, which describes our situation: “You have yourself set many right, and put strength into feeble souls; your words have kept men on their feet, the weak-kneed you have nerved. But now that your turn has come, you droop; it touches you close and you collapse.” We know about that, don’t we? 

Biblical Strategies for Sustainable Ministry

I’m using this only as an illustration to get to a personal confession – but since I’ve raised the whole issue of discouragement, let me offer two hurried suggestions that may help us triumph over the deadly mood of discouragement. First, we need to recognize that the mood of discouragement is often the psychological reaction to extreme mental and physical fatigue. When you’re seeking to deal with discouragement, be sure that you are adequately rested. Second, discouragement often results from an impractical idealism, an illogical attempt at perfectionistic activity. Now, I know about that. You will be hard-pressed to find a more optimistic, idealistic person. How often have I had to cry out, “Oh, hopeless idealist that I am: who will deliver me from the bondage of believing that in this life all ideals can become realities!” 

We need to constantly make a valid distinction between a philosophical idealism and moral responsibility. Just because we know all that can be done, and just because we desperately want to do it, does not necessarily mean that we have to do it. Sometimes doing what we see needs to be done may transcend our human capacity – particularly when other human beings are involved.

The greatest need is your own personal holiness. Be encouraged. It is God who sustains. You are not alone, the Holy Spirit comes alongside in a very personal way to guide us. Seek His rest and consolation. Sanctification and encouragement will follow.