My Father is Rolling Over in his Grave

I really wish I could write an uplifting post. I really, really do. The more I experience and the more I talk to other pastors that have gone through closing situations the more I realize my congregation is a different kind of beast. I now wonder if this experiment of sharing my experience of going through a closing process will be a failed one because my people are fighting the process so much? I can't write about uplifting visits with members. I can't share a wonderful bible study on grief because I have been told that no one would go to a bible study even if I developed one. I really did think that people would calm down after the vote. That the fight for power and the struggle to have control would be gone and people would rather focus on ending with grace and hope. But, right now, that is not the case here. I have two stories to share. I'll write on today and one tomorrow. Today is about a phone call I received from the son of a former pastor and tomorrow the post will be about me hitting a breaking point and how I responded to the breaking point.

The call from the former pastors son:
When people in my congregation talk about their former pastors they don't have many nice things to say (I think this is a first sign of an unhealthy congregation). The last pastor was only waiting out his time until retirement, the pastor before that they asked to resign over flags in the sanctuary, the pastor before that they didn't like because he spent too much time in his office writing sermons (I think this was his way of coping with the unhealthiness), the pastor before that made the mistake of starting a Korean outreach, and then we get to the one beloved pastor. The pastor that I hear many wonderful stories about. This is the pastor with a 35 year tenure, he was the pastor of the 50's, 60's and 70's - the hayday of many congregations. He was the pastor that grew the congregation and lead the building campaign to expand the building because he grew the congregation so large they needed more space. He was the beloved pastor that ruled with an iron fist but had a deep love for each and every person in the congregation.The pastor died in the late 70s while he was still pastor. He had a heart attack.
I got a phone call from his son yesterday.

I was shutting down my computer about to leave the office and the phone rings. The person on the other end informs me that he is the son of the "beloved pastor". He said it saddened him to hear that the congregation is closing and only has 5 months left of survival and he wondered if there is anything he can do to help. I thought it was really kind of him to call and to offer this. I started to talk about the celebration service, the last worship date, the silent auction if there is anything he might like to have a memento,  I said that he can help with some of the clean out if he wanted to physically help. Then, he cut me off and he said, "No, I want to help save the church. I want to help revitalize it." I told him that it wasn't possible. That the congregation already voted, that the synod has the resolution, that we are pretty much just operating right now to take care of the closing business - but that for all real purposes, the congregation is closed. He then told me, "my father is rolling over in his grave right now. I can't believe you allowed the congregation to die."

He went on to tell me all the wonderful things his father did in his pastorate. He told me that his father grew the congregation by going door to door in the neighborhood. He asked me how many souls I saved for Christ during my time as pastor. He told me that a good pastor would never let a congregation die and his father would have done everything in his power to save the church and to save the souls of the neighborhood by bringing them to Christ, but that this must not be part of my mission. I listened. I corrected. I counseled. I reminded him that all congregations have a life span and that even the congregation in the book of Acts are now closed. I shared the discernment process and even the attempts at turn around. I told him that the people in the congregation are being mission minded and choosing to give all the assets to further mission endeavors instead of spending the money on them selves and going through all the money just to lead to an eventual close anyway.

Then it got worst. He asked me if I have children. I said 3. He said, "well, no wonder the congregation died." I got firm, "What does that mean?" He said, "you don't sound that old. how are you suppose to grow a church and do a mission if you have young children at home?" "Your father had 4 kids and he did a marvelous job at growing a church," I said in a not so sincere way. "Well, that's different. You have to raise the kids." WTF is what went through my head. Oh my goodness. What I said was, "So, I hear you telling me that because I am a woman with children I have no business pastoring a congregation? That my children a a weakness to my capability to do ministry. That the fact that your father had 4 children and pastored a congregation it was different because he was a man?!" I think I took him off guard and he said, "well, not exactly. Hey, I have a question for you. If you were to die tomorrow would you know that you are going to heaven." Oh, my gosh. I just wanted him off the phone and if playing the Evangelical born again game with him was the way to do it I was willing to play the game. So, I said, "yes". Then he continued, "Good, now question number two..." I didn't even have to hear it but I waited... "How do you know this?" "I took a deep breath and gave the answer he was looking for just so I could get him off the phone. "Because I know that Jesus is my personal Lord and Savior," I said while rolling my eyes. Now, I do believe this - but I do not buy into the fact that saying a magic prayer ensures salvation. Lutherans have this understanding of grace and that there is nothing you have to do to earn that grace... but this is not about theology. So, his response was, "Check. Great. You passed.At least now I know that my father's church is dying with a true Christian as the pastor." I said, "Good, I'm glad. It was nice talking to you. Have a blessed afternoon, I really need to get going. Bye," and I hung up.