For at least a few more posts, I’m going to use this time and this space to reflect upon the early days of my pastoral ministry at Mount Vernon Baptist Church in Sandy Springs, Georgia, just north of Atlanta. I remain relieved that the process of writing my dissertation has come to an end as well as overjoyed that a local church has seen fit to grant me the privilege of preaching week in and week out. Sure, there are all sorts of difficulties involved in a move like this. My wife and I still miss our church from Louisville, Third Avenue—and that’s the way it should be. We cried when we left Capitol Hill Baptist for seminary in 2000, and we cried when we left Third in 2008. We made connections there, we served there, and we grew there.

I started preaching at Mount Vernon in June, 2008. In many ways I’d been preparing for this day for years. I served as a pastoral assistant and then an elder at Capitol Hill. Then, in Louisville, I helped transition the church to a plural elder model, became an elder, and preached regularly (especially during several times the past few years when we were without a full-time pastor). However, none of these experiences fully prepared me for what I’ve experienced in even three months of ministry at Mount Vernon. So, let me briefly share a lesson that I’m really just beginning to learn.

It is essential to joyfully endure criticism.

I’m choosing my words carefully here. Not all criticism needs to be accepted but all criticism does need to be endured. Whether the criticism is embraced as true or rejected as false, it needs to be endured with joy. More often than not, receiving criticism from others is a trial (a small trial, yes, but still a trial). As a trial the Christian has no other choice but to agree with James and consider it [the trial] pure joy.

There is, of course, a difference between knowing this to be true with your mind and knowing it to be true with your gut. It’s the same difference between knowing a western sunset is beautiful because you’ve heard it described and seeing it with your own eyes.

I’m learning, in my gut, to joyfully endure criticism. It comes in all shapes and sizes. Maybe it is a suggestion to preach differently. Maybe it is advice to lead with greater (or less) strength. Maybe it is counsel to change directions. In local church ministry there are 1,001 ways one’s leadership can be criticized. My struggle (and I think I’m not alone) is to hear criticism, weigh criticism, and them move on.
How do I attempt to do this? (I stress “attempt” because when it comes to enduring criticism joyfully I really am a work in progress). First, I try to assume the person speaking to me has the best of motives. They want what is best for the church and what is best for me. It is so much easier to hear criticism from people I know are “for” me. Nonetheless, my flesh is to quick to assume the worst about people so I’m helped by telling myself, “They are challenging you because they love you and want to help you.” Second, I try to be slow to speak. Sometimes the best thing I can do is not respond at all. If I respond quickly I will argue. If I stop to think (maybe five minutes, maybe an hour, maybe a day) that desire to argue will be replaced by a desire to strive for unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. Third, I gauge my flexibility. Am I willing to change? Is it important for me to dig my heels into the ground? If I don’t know how attached I am to a particular decision I’m unlikely to be prepared to joyfully endure the criticism. However, if I know my level of commitment, it will be easier for me to say, “Good point, I think I agree!” or “I hear you, but I’ve given a lot of thought to this and am pretty sure we need to keep moving this way.” Fourth, I constantly remind myself what is most important. When I worked for Senator Mark Hatfield years ago, he always stressed the importance of majoring in the majors. As a pastor, I’m constantly needing to remind myself that I’m here for the church, not myself. That God’s Word is sufficient to accomplish the work of the ministry. That Christ’s glory is my goal. When I keep this in mind, I’m less likely to be bothered by criticism and more able to joyfully endure it—sometimes by embracing it as a helpful corrective and sometimes rejecting it.

I don’t think what I’m saying here is unique to pastoral ministry. Criticism exists in marriages, in the workplace, and among friends. As a Christian, I desperately want to joyfully endure criticism for the sake of my own soul. As a pastor, I want to joyfully endure criticism for the sake of the church I lead.