Oops, Sorry, Reverend: Treating Your Pastor Like a Person
When I was in college, I worked at Sears. My wife and I got married the summer before my senior year, and I needed a job. I applied at Sears because it was located near the apartments where my wife and I were going to live. I ended up getting hired to work in the tool department. At that time, this position was on commission. I got a percentage (usually 1%, but some items were 3%) of all the merchandise I sold. It was a decent job, and I did fairly well.
I got to know some of my co-workers. Some of them were retired guys just looking for something to do. Others were high school students working their evening/weekend job for some spending money. Still others were working there for their full-time job to support their family. It was a good job and it helped pay the bills.
It wasn’t long, though, before people found out that I was going to head to seminary after college to pursue ordination as a pastor in the United Methodist Church. When word about that got around to some of the other guys (and it was mostly men that worked in my department), there was a shift in how they acted around me.
All of the sudden, their stories took on a different tone. Their language changed. And on the occasions when neither of those changed, the worst of it all started — they began apologizing. “Dammit” or “shit” or other words were quickly followed with a glance towards me and an “Oops, sorry, Reverend.” I hated it.
I transferred to another store after I graduated from college and continued to work at Sears throughout my seminary years. It would still happen occasionally: a curse word, followed by an insincere apology. In fact, it still happens today when people find out that I’m a pastor. There are a lot of times when I won’t even bring up my vocation because I know that people will act differently around me.
What bugs me the most about it is the fact that people think they have to change their behavior for my sake. The apology is insincere because they aren’t really sorry, they just feel guilty, thinking they have somehow offended my delicate sensibilities. Here’s a little secret about pastors: we’re just like everybody else.
I don’t get offended by foul language. While I may not appreciate some of your really crude stories, I’m not going to make you apologize for them — at least not for my sake. People already have a hard enough time with judgmental Christians in their lives, I don’t want to add to it. (Now, if the story have some blatant sexist or racist undertones, I’ll probably say something, but that’s not because I’m a pastor, it’s because I’m a decent human being who thinks others should be treated with respect and decency.)
A few months ago, I literally ran into somebody from my church while I was coming out of the bathroom at the movie theater. I had a day to myself, so I decided that I was going to go see an early evening movie. When the movie was over, I went to the bathroom to get relieve myself of the pressure brought on by my gigantic soda. As I was coming out, one of my parishioners was going in. We talked briefly, and then I started towards the door, only to see his family standing in line to get tickets. We talked for just a minute, and they asked what movie I had just seen. Much to their surprise, I responded, “Deadpool 2.”
They laughed about it and learned something important about their pastor that day: he’s not that different from anybody else. I like to watch action movies. The Deadpool movies don’t bother me because I’m an adult and I can differentiate between what is real and what is a comic book movie. Now, am I going to go around talking like Deadpool? Heck, no! But I’m going to enjoy the movie.
I was at a wedding not too long ago, and sitting at a table with some members of my congregation, a few of them had beers. Somebody asked if it bothered me. I said, “The only thing that bothers me is the fact that you are drinking a Bud Light. Drink some good beer if you’re going to drink!” That’s right, I enjoy having a beer every once in a while, or even *gasp* a Jack and Coke. I drink occasionally, but always responsibly.
Here’s the thing: pastors are people too. We watch movies that aren’t produced by some lame “Christian” studio. We listen to music on stations besides K-Love. We enjoy an adult beverage from time to time. And we may even drop the occasional curse word when we get upset about something.
I’m not a pastor because I think I have everything figured out and I want people to be just like me. I’m a pastor because I had a profound encounter with God, and felt as if God was calling me to do something with my life. For me, that call led me to vocational ministry. For others, that call will look like something else. But I don’t think I’m special. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
I know my flaws and faults. I know when I have gone off the path. And I know when I do something that is not in line with what I believe. Yet, in spite of all that, I also know that God loves me every bit as much as God loves you. There is grace for all people and forgiveness just waiting for those who put their trust in him.
I’m not special. I’m just a pastor.
