Questions from the well

Three concerns regarding the future of Adventist ministry

Robert S. Folkenberg is the former president of the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists.

As part of the celebration of 70 years of Ministry, the world president of the Seventh-day Adventist church declares his most telling convictions and concerns about the ministry of the church today.

At the close of a long day of labor, three seminarians and an aging pastor were gathered around the village well. As they peered into the stone-lined shaft, the conversation turned to how to measure water in the well.

"It's not hard to figure out," said one seminarian. "I'd simply calculate the volume of the bucket, lower it into the well, and count how many trips it took to drain the shaft."

"Leaving us a dry well," murmured the old pastor.

"No," said the second. "That's not the method I'd use. I'd fill the well with small stones, displacing the water to the top, and measure it as it poured over the lip."

"Leaving us no well at all," muttered the old pastor.

"Be reasonable," said the third. "I'd calculate the diameter of the well and lower a weighted rope to the bottom. By measuring the depth of the water, I could ascertain the volume of water in the well."

"Leaving us no mystery at all," mumbled the pastor.

"Well, then how would you do it?" the three cried. "Do you have a better method for measuring the water in the well?"

"As for me," said the old pastor slowly, "I, too, would lower the bucket into the well but only once. And when I pulled it up, I would take a long, cold draft.

"And in the refreshment of that drink, I would measure the water in the well: Did it slake my thirst? Did it brighten my eye? Did it cool my brow? Did it clear my thoughts? "If it did those things, then we would know it is good water--great water--and all the water that I or any person in this village needs.

"Measuring the depth of water in the well is only done by those who never thirst." There's a special kind of humor in asking a church administrator to share his thoughts about the future of pastoral ministry. As a group, administrators are frequently criticized for caring only about what can be identified, objectified, and quantified caring only about the volume of water in the well. Far from the real world, the old saw goes, administrators can't know the lot of those who "stand and deliver" before the people of God week in and week out. In our rarefied, bureaucratic world, some suggest that nothing "real" ever happens.

But the fact remains that I still get thirsty---and not just for the cold, clear stuff that bubbles from the fountain in the hall way. As I watch a world spinning madly out of control, as I wrestle with situations even Solomon might shun, I find myself more thirsty every day for the water of life drawn from the wells of salvation. More insistent than the alarm clock at 5:00 a.m. or the telephone ringing at night is the growing sense that I must drink each day that water that Jesus offered to the woman at the well. Without that water, ministry is a dry and dusty chore.

Are we quenching our thirst?

So come with me again to the well.

Whether pastor or administrator, Bible worker or evangelist, every minister drinks from a common well. The indispensable first question about the future of ministry is to ask if we are finding our own thirst quenched by the living water Jesus offers His servants. If we are, then there will be joy in the journey. If we aren't, then there will be nothing to cut the taste of dust and ashes in the mouth.

There are some who simply assume that every pastor experiences a dynamic connection with Jesus Christ and move on to other topics, but I no longer do. In my own story, and in the stories of many pastors close to me, I know too much about the dry seasons, the difficult days when we are tempted to build pipelines and aqueducts for the water we have rarely tasted. The unique demands of serving people urge us to "put others first," by which we mean giving greater precedence to their thirst than to our own. But as laudable as that sounds, it's the beginning of an inward spiritual dehydration.

The living water can't be dammed or stored in reservoirs; it can't be caught in Evian bottles, awaiting dry tomorrows. As one author puts it, "You do not have what you once had with God. You only have what today you received from Him."

The future of Adventist ministry is being shaped right now by whether or not each of us is devoting personal time each day with Jesus Christ for prayer, for study, for worship. From one end of the church to the other, it's time that we announce to each other the requirement that every Adventist pastor be a deeply consecrated person of God. We must say it so often that we come to believe it: A prayer-less pastor is a false shepherd, and a minister not grounded in the Word is a blind guide, regardless of rhetorical talent, sensitivity to people, or administrative skill.

Look deeply in the well, pastor. Are you enjoying a daily conversation with your Saviour that quenches your thirst? Are you finding new insights and deeper meanings from your study of His Word? Have you rejoiced today because of the salvation purchased for you by the blood of Jesus Christ? Is your own life your marriage, your family, your attitudes, your habits being transformed by the power Jesus promised to give all who follow Him? (John 1:12).

I'm describing a kind of personal spiritual inventory for the pastor and by the pastor that is far more searching and direct than any instrument the church could ever develop. I'm dreaming of pastors who hold themselves accountable before God, just as God holds each of us accountable before Him.

Many pastors tell me they have found personal assessment to be one of the most beneficial things they've done in ministry. To ask myself several times a year a series of honest questions about my spiritual life (or to cultivate a spiritual partner whom I've encouraged to ask such questions) is to face life as every believer must face it with honesty, with humility, and with hope. Ministering the gospel to others must never be an excuse for not enjoying the goodness of God myself or experiencing His trans forming power in my own life.

Are our members growing in grace?

A second question emerges as I peer into the depths of the well: "Are the members of my church experiencing the joy of the gospel and the power of transformation as a result of my ministry?" Here we are tempted to get wobbly and to start worrying aloud about those who want to count everything and put it on some chart. We fear that in asking the relevant question "Are my members growing in grace?" we will be diverted to a set of less-than-relevant answers to pie charts, baptismal statistics, goals achieved, and targets reached.

But there can be no more candid mirror of my own experience with God and my profession of ministry than the spiritual condition of the people who receive that ministry week after week. This doesn't mean that every member will be spiritually responsive or that sin hasn't case-hardened some believers. Yet it remains true that a praying pastor inevitably produces a praying congregation. A pastor rejoicing in grace cultivates a people who shout aloud the goodness of the Lord. A minister finding victory over personal habits and attitudes models before the church the truth that we serve a transforming Lord. If my ministry is authentic, if it is being blessed by God, then I should welcome the task of replicating in others my personal experience of salvation and teaching them to drink at the same well.

It's far easier to blame the church for spiritual immaturity than to recognize that I may be partly responsible for creating or maintaining that immaturity through a life of busy but prayer-less ministry. When I summon whatever professional objectivity I possess and candidly assess the spiritual condition of my people, chances are I will see there at least a dim reflection of my own spiritual struggles. Looking honestly at the spiritual condition of those I serve is the surest way to propel me to my knees, pleading with God for a power beyond myself and a message not my own.

Put candidly, the questions are: "How many of my members are experiencing the joy and transforming power of the gospel? Are growing numbers of them rejoicing in the assurance of salvation through the atoning blood of Jesus? Is my flock digging deeper into God's Word as a consequence of my ministry to them? How many of them are facing difficult life circumstances with prayer rather than solely with their wits? Are these numbers any greater than they were six months or a year ago?"

No one is better equipped both to ask and answer these questions than the pastor. Administrators and those who serve the church in specialized ministries can't know the matrix of family dynamics, historical considerations, and gift clusters that make up the unique character of each local congregation. Those of us who serve the church in nonpastoral roles have a special obligation to create a climate of candor and encouragement in each region so that no pastor is ever deterred from asking and answering these crucial questions.

If it's true that the church can't achieve what God expects of it without accountability---and I believe it is---then we must be certain nothing hinders us from that task. No pastor should ever fear that honest assessment of the church he or she serves will ever be anything but praised and appreciated.

How do we relate to the great commission?

A third question emerges from our look into the well: "Do those who receive my ministry give evidence that they understand their unique role in the great commission?"

For 135 years, Seventh-day Adventism has rightly emphasized the task of disciple-making, and we've done so with a vigor and enthusiasm that has carried us into almost every nation on the globe. To be an Adventist---with our special commitment to God's Sabbath, with our unique under standing of Christ's ministry in the heavenly sanctuary, with our prophetic insights into the future of this world is to have a passion for those who will go into a Christ-less eternity unless we share with them the truth as it is in Jesus.

As a spiritual leader charged with making disciples, I must hear the questions: "Am I building people who exhibit a passion for souls? Do those who hear me preach and teach the good news of the gospel also hear the gospel call to go and make disciples? Is my passion for lost people becoming their passion?"

To think and speak this way requires a different paradigm of pastoral care than many of us have grown up with. The pastor simply as a quiet shepherd, content if only the flock experiences biological growth, can not be a satisfactory model for ministry. But the pastor as a trainer-equipper, model, coach, guide, and fellow missionary gives him or her a motivational and spiritual power that grows directly from the authority of the Word of God.

I heard recently of a group of laypersons who were upset because their pastor had roundly scolded them. It was his business and not theirs, he told them, to give the Bible studies and prepare people for baptism. They felt the frustration so many of God's people feel when they hear the call of Jesus and yet confront the reality of a church unprepared to harness their energies. Those of us called to professional ministry need to overcome whatever insecurities we may feel when mission "gets away from us." Demo graphic trends in our world movement and the reliable counsel we hold dear point us to a future in which both the quantitative and qualitative growth of God's church will be so explosive and so rapid that all our minister-centered visions will be useless or next to useless.

In conclusion

Reading this, some cynic might conclude that I see the future of Adventist ministry as a series of question marks. That leaves the impression that I have doubts about the future of the church or Christ's ultimate triumph in this world. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

But it's true that the power of the right questions---well-asked and well-answered---will shape our destiny more than any other element I know.

A refreshing breeze is blowing through our faith and our profession just now, allowing us to dream new dreams and cast a different vision for serving the people of God. I want to be part of God's emerging plan for His people, whatever the cost to my old paradigms and cherished opinions. And if questions godly, biblical questions---help that happen, then I welcome them. I hope you do as well.


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Robert S. Folkenberg is the former president of the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists.

January 1998

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