While it’s the thought that counts, maybe it’s not the best idea to buy your preacher a case of beer to show your thanks during Pastor Appreciation Month.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But … there’s a time and place for everything under the sun and, well, maybe just a gift certificate for supper or groceries would be more appropriate.
Or a loaf of home-baked bread, leavened or unleavened.
Truth be told, we should have written this three weeks ago or at least two Sundays ago, but as things turn out, it’s perfect that it’s now.
It’s “perfect” in that October is Pastor Appreciation Month and the second Sunday of the month is (the official) Pastor Appreciation Sunday and now it’s late October and some of us (me?) are three weeks and a Sunday or two behind in getting around to thanking the preacher.
Oops. “Though our sins were many …”
Not many of us really believe this, but pastors are people too. You know … more or less.
I grew up with one. Right there in my house.
There is no angel that shows up once a month and changes the batteries in the preacher or priest or rabbi who shepherds your congregation. At least not in the Southern Baptist preacher I grew up with.
Once my dad got his times mixed up and fell asleep in the easy chair when he was supposed to be officiating a wedding. Had his gall bladder out. Got a few speeding tickets. Got a few more. Said a dirty word, unrehearsed, when he walked up on a snake while looking over a tiny lot of land that was being cleared; the beautiful thing about that experience was he was with the deacons — the church was constructing a little building out back — and it was right before Wednesday night prayer meeting.
Good times.
Daddy shared with the Wednesday night flock what had just happened. He did not, thank God, share word-for-word.
The point is, they are human and have feelings and are never off the clock and can never turn the clock back, even if they walk up on a snake and wish they could.
Bringing sheaves in can be a tough job for laymen and pastors alike, but the difference is that, if you see either at the hardware store, you’re more likely to ask one to help you find the caulk (15 seconds) and the other to help you with your crazy nephew or divorce proceedings, (which could take a hardware store eternity, and to make matters worse, the preacher is likely there on his ‘day off’).
We can start small and believe that little things really do mean a lot. My gift to the preacher this month is just to try not to get on his nerves. Each of us is gifted, remember, in some way. Still a week to go to see if I can pull that off.
You can honor your pastor too. Don’t put anything mean in the suggestion box. Stay in the sanctuary until the hymn of invitation is over. Maybe smile?
It’s the little things.
Pastors also accept gift certificates and, if memory serves, meat they can put in the deep freeze.
We read stories of pastors who have stumbled or ones who are asking their congregations for another jet plane, or both. It’s a hard and often strange life for us all.
But in my experience, most pastors are like most people in that they’d do just about anything for you. Like we are, they are set upon by the same lightning bolts, big and small, the rest of us are trying to dodge, they are serving in just about the hardest job to do well that there is, and they are trying to love the flock as best as they possibly can.
They’re probably doing it much better than we could.
About that beer. Daddy told the guy, “Well, I appreciate it. Very much. But it’s not something I can use. If you know of anybody…”
And the church member said, “Well, I mean, if you’re not gonna drink it, I guess, well…”
Contact Teddy at teddy@latech.edu
You must be logged in to post a comment.