"Your letter struck a raw nerve with me. I felt a sense of déjà vu. My mind snapped back to my own seminary days and subsequent early years of ministry.
The first memory it sparked was of occasions as a young man when I expressed my frustrations to older men who responded to me by saying, “You’re too young and idealistic to understand these things. Wait until you get more experience.”
That type of answer only fueled my frustration. I wanted cogent answers and sound arguments, not patronage from my elders.
My seminary experience was much like yours. I had professors who openly attacked the doctrine of Christ’s substitutionary atonement, the deity of Christ, and ridiculed anyone who believed the Bible was God’s Word. I experienced shock, hurt, and anger. When I expressed these concerns to older people in the church, they added to my dismay by insisting that I must be mistaken and that I was being a troublemaker. Day after day in seminary classes I was exposed to a rigorous skepticism toward everything I held sacred. Fortunately (I should say providentially), I had one professor who brilliantly defended the biblical faith and who supported me in my trials. I really don’t know what I would have done without Dr. Gerstner.
There were two simple passages from the Bible to which I clung tenaciously. The first was from Psalm 37:1: “Do not fret because of evil men.” That hit home with me because I was doing a lot of fretting and it wasn’t helping my spiritual life.
The second passage was from Jeremiah. When the prophet complained to God bitterly and threatened to quit because false prophets were undermining his ministry, God rebuked him and said, “Let the prophet who has a dream tell his dream, but let the one who has My word speak it faithfully” (Jer. 23:28).
The application of those words to my life was simple. I realized that God was not going to hold me accountable for what other ministers said or did. Rather, He was going to hold my feet to the fire for what I say and do. I had my marching orders, and so do you.
When I hear your anguish, I have two conflicting responses in my heart. 1) On the one hand I want to rush to your side and offer you whatever encouragement I can. I want to weep with you as you weep.
2) On the other hand, as a battle-scarred veteran, I want to kick you in the pants and give you a “Pattonesque” bop on the chin. I want to say, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” The ministry is no place for cowards. You know as well as I do that this all goes with the territory. When was it ever any different? We are called to serve a Master who was despised and rejected of men. We join a company of those whom the world hated and slew.
Christ will remove every spot, mend every tear, and smooth every wrinkle.
I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, its easy to put up with the hostility of the world. We expect it. It’s getting shot in the back from within the church that is hard to take. Even then we tend to rise to the occasion when the issues are big and important. It’s the pettiness that wears us down.
Again, mature faith requires that we be willing and able to absorb petty slights and insults. How does it go for you on Sunday mornings? You stand at the door to greet your flock and many people tell you that they appreciated your sermon. Then one person expresses a criticism. What do you remember for the rest of the day? Right . . . me too. You tell yourself that you’re supposed to be able to handle criticism, but it still wounds. Chances are, if the person knew how much they wounded you they would be horrified. Most of the petty hurts we endure are unintentional. Understanding that can go a long way to salving the wound.
But there is a bigger issue to be dealt with from your letter. It involves our understanding of the church itself. You need to understand that the church is the most corrupt institution on earth. It’s more corrupt than the government. It’s more corrupt than the cosa nostra.
