Pastoral Care: Then and Now

Text:  1 Corinthians 3:1-9

Theme:  "Pastoral Care:  Then and Now"

6th Sunday after the Epiphany

February 16, 2014

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

Today's theme is "Pastoral Care:  Then and Now".  Obviously, this isn't the kind of theme or topic featured with any regularity on ABC, NBC, CNN, or what have you, and I can understand that.  There is a certain awkwardness out and about when it comes to thinking about Christian clergy and what Christian pastors do and what kind of care they provide.  Down here in the Bible belt, I learned pretty quick that we're called "preachers."  "Quiet, Ma!  The preacher just got here!"  (I confess that I never really liked being called a preacher.  After all, what person do you know that likes to be "preached to"?) 

When I make the acquaintance of someone new, and when they discover that I'm a pastor -- or, more precisely, a teaching elder or minister of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church, the response always seems to be along these lines:  "Oh, is that so?  Uh, well, uh, okay!   That's, uh, nice; good for you!"  Of course, the subject then turns immediately to something else. I've learned that people can be uncomfortable around clergy.  I get the feeling that the Christian pastor is considered, among the general public,  to be something of an odd duck.  There's a smidge of truth to that -- as you all know well after my three and a half years among you!  On the highest authority, those who are pastors are "fools for Christ's sake."

My first experience of what pastors do came at the church of my childhood.  I learned that they do a lot of talking in public . Then they would teach.  I went to a Lutheran parochial school from the K-8, and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, one of the pastors would come in to teach religion class. 

When I was 15 yrs. old, I was admitted to Dodge County Hospital in Fremont, Nebraska, and I would be there for about a week.  At first, they didn't know what was wrong with me.  I had a dangerously high temperature with severe intestinal problems.  (Turns out, it was a rare form of salmonella.)  One day, there was a knock on the door.  It was Pastor Levenhagen.  He sat down at my bedside and we chatted a bit.  Then he offered a prayer.  It was a visit that I've never forgotten.  It was pastoral care.  Mom and Dad cared for me; they worried and fussed and fretted.  But for Pastor Levenhagen to take time out of his day to inquire as to my welfare?   Even though it was "his job", it was pretty special.  While I couldn't put it into words at 15 years of age, I sensed that there was something important about what he did for a living. 

Now, one could argue -- with some merit -- that the world has changed considerably since Jesus Christ Himself sent out the first pastors.  As a result, pastoral care has had to change.  While the apostles and the first pastors -- Peter, James, John, St. Paul, Titus, Timothy, and the whole lot of them -- certainly visited the sick, I don't think they had to fill out a patient chart at a hospital computer terminal. I know they didn't have to have a post-graduate degree at an accredited seminary.  Peter and Andrew and James and John, you will recall, were professional fishermen.   I know that they didn't have to carry a lifeless infant in their own arms from a neo-natal intensive care unit down eleven stories to the basement morgue at a metropolitan children's hospital.   I'm sure they didn't have to run interference in a crowded, cramped emergency room after a death occurred.

Let me share this story.  A year ago this past Christmastime, I was called to Presbyterian Hospital.  I was on-call as chaplain.  Chaplains provide pastoral care in specific settings.  A 17 yr. old girl, a student-athlete, had died suddenly due to unforeseen complications brought on by on a minor surgery.  Her family, gathered in the room, were in the midst of massive grief. As teenagers tend to communicate via text messaging these days, the word got out pretty quickly.  In short order, thirty to forty friends of the deceased gathered in the waiting room.  I sensed pretty quickly that I had two jobs:  guard the immediate family's privacy and share any further information from the family to grieving teens waiting outside.

In the midst of all this chaos, I have to tenderly ask the immediate family to vacate the room so the Denton Country Coroner can do their initial examination.  Meanwhile, with the family outside the door, here comes the driver from the Tarrant County Medical Examiner's office to pick up the body.  The timing couldn't have been worse.  Hurriedly, he burst into the ER pushing the gurney and wanting to know where the body was.  Fortunately, I was able to spot that and direct him and his gurney away from the family.  I smiled politely and directed him aside to a private hallway.  I looked him in the eye and said:  "I will come and get you when the family is ready.  Have a seat.  Can I get you something to drink?"

Yes, pastoral care has changed because the world has.  But I'm also here to share that God's Word has not changed.  As our text from Corinthians points out, one task of pastoral care is to know what kind of nourishment from God's Word that people need.  Paul wrote to them:  "I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it." 

Another thing that hasn't changed is alluded to in our reading:  human nature being what it is, churches can be messy places.   At Corinth, Pastor Paul noticed jealousy and quarreling among the faithful.  Sounds pretty messy to me.  There were even what we today would call "personality conflicts" -- or just personalities in general.    One says  "I follow Paul."  Another says  "I follow Apollos."  Does this sort of thing happen today?  Of course it does.  I know a mega-church in California where the congregation's leadership took out a catastrophic liability insurance policy on their pastor.  They thought if that pastor would leave for another church, they would be stuck.  Members would disappear and resources would dry up. Hearing about this, it dawned me:  many  of those at that church have more faith in their pastor than they do in the Lord!  Did they not think that if that pastor left that God wouldn't provide them another under-shepherd?

Pastor Paul tells his fellow believers at Corinth:  "What, after all, is
Apollos? And what is Paul?  Only servants through whom you came to believe -- as the Lord has assigned to each his task.  I planted the seed.  Apollos watered it, but God made it grow."  And thank God that that seed -- the seed of the Gospel, the good news that God, in Christ, loves us forever -- is still planted and watered today.  Neither the one who plants or waters is anything, but only God who makes things grow.

Speaking of growth, that is something we  thank God for today.  Three and a half years ago, when God called me -- through your session and congregation -- to serve as pastor here, it was determined that an "installed pastor" could not be supported. Thus, the status of the call you extended was changed to "temporary supply."  But for some time now, you have grown into being able to support an "installed pastor".  For my own part, I -- like Paul and Apollos -- have just done a little planting and watering!  And you have done your part.    God has made it grow! 

The session has asked that the status be changed.  Grace Presbytery's Committee on Ministry has approved request.  Now, what remains is for you, as members of the church at large in solemn assembly today and according to the church's usual order, to approve it as well.

It has been a joy and honor for me to plant and water the seed among you.  I sense that every time I step into pulpit, when I pour water at font, when I break bread and pour wine at the table or in the home of a shut-in, when I'm privileged to share your lives in their joyful moments and painful ones, when I walk a grieving family down the aisle to say their final goodbyes.    Where I've fallen short of God's expectations and yours, I ask  forgiveness -- yours and God's. Where there is joy in this ministry, give God the glory that is due.

When I was first ordained in the Lutheran Church way back in 1987, it was Pastor Levenhagen -- the one who had visited me in the hospital -- who preached the ordination sermon.  He quoted St. Paul: "If anyone desires the office of bishop, he desires a noble task."  Then he looked me in the eyes once again, and he said:  "It's a great job; God says so."

He's right.  Amen.