Ephesians 4:1 begs me to “live a life worthy of the calling I have received.”As a pastor, I certainly realize the non-negotiable need for me to be pure, seek God, love my wife, stay off drugs … you know, the biggies.
But there are many less obvious demands that I believe come with the territory of pastoral ministry. If I’m going to represent Jesus and be the ambassador of God, everything about me matters. Everything.
Here are a few things that I started giving attention to after becoming a pastor that I didn’t monitor nearly as much before:
- My health. I feel like my credibility would be severely damaged if I had a big bulging pulpit bumper (belly). I have a metabolism that would render me quite fat and sloppy looking if I ate whatever I wanted and never worked out. So I usually eat pretty well, and I work out as regularly as possible. Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from a health nut. I’ll probably have a hot dog tonight, matter of fact. And I drink way too much caffeine. But I keep it in check.
- My dress. I think a minister of the Gospel should dress well relative to the culture he’s trying to reach. This means different things in different places to different people. I don’t intend to turn this into a discourse on whether it’s ethical for a preacher to buy a $2000 suit and wear a Rolex. I’m not really talking about price at all. I’m talking about maintaining a neat, current, appropriate, fashionable personal appearance. In other words, everyone can iron. We represent the most meaningful message known to man. We should look like able messengers.
- My hugs. I know it sounds gay, but roll with it. As I become more and more detached from those who serve with me at Elevation Church, I find myself becoming increasingly touchy and huggy. (Spell check is telling me huggy isn’t a word. Spell check is wrong.) I rarely walk by one of our volunteers or staff members without giving them a hug. Because what may take 4 seconds out of my day could literally make their day. As a pastor, I need to realize the value of a simple thank you or acknowledgement of the people in my life. Sometimes it makes all the difference, even when I don’t recognize it.
- My car. I keep it clean. It’s hard to set an example of a well ordered life with French Fries and Diet Coke cans piled up on the floorboard.
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