Letters to My Congregation

A Faceless Congregation

Photo by Jorik Kleen on Unsplash

I can’t remember the last time I was unemployed. Technically speaking, I - at present - don’t have a job. My last day at West Franklin was Sunday, August 10th. ClearView Baptist will vote on me this Sunday, August 17th. It’s kind of weird. I am, literally, in between jobs.

What’s more weird is that I don’t have a congregation to write to this week. I mean, I do, sort of. But not really. I haven’t met the congregation at ClearView Baptist. I’ve heard a lot about them. I’ve interacted with a small percentage of them. I’ve been in the building where they gather to worship. But I’ve never met them. I haven’t yet seen their faces. I haven’t looked into their eyes, hugged their necks, shook their hands, noticed their smiles, or learned their names. Usually when I write a letter on Wednesday I have particular people and faces and names and stories in mind. The plan is to meet a lot (most?) of them tonight at a scheduled “meet and greet” time. But now, I feel like I am writing to myself. (Which, in a bizarre way, I guess I kind of am.) I feel like I am writing to a faceless congregation.

My heart tells me this is a good thing. I don’t want to pastor a group of people I don’t know. In all actuality, I don’t think a pastor can actually pastor people he doesn’t know. A congregation is made up of humans and souls who have actual names and stories and struggles and parents and children and friends and hopes and dreams and longings and desires and peculiar personalities. God doesn’t work in generalities. God works in particularities. He calls people by name, not “hey, you.”

If I were writing a letter to a faceless congregation this morning and assumed I knew everything I was going to do for them as their pastor, I would be committing ministry malpractice. I can’t possibly know how to pastor them yet! I don’t know them! A farmer can’t force himself on the soil he farms, lest he arrogantly and ignorantly abuses it. A parent can’t force their child to be something that they aren’t, unless they plan to scar them for life. No. A wise farmer and parent work with what they have been given and what they know about their land/child. And a pastor shepherds those he knows.

So I guess it’s a good thing I feel super weird about writing a letter today to a congregation I’ve yet to meet. ClearView, I’ve met Jeff and Ashley and Carl and Krista and Brandon and Julie and Robert and Jennifer and John and Alexis and Chelsi and Cindy and Kim and Jennifer and Jamie and Molly and Terry and Tracy and Vicky. If you’re anything like them, this is gonna be fun. I’m eager to meet you “face to face” later this evening. Then, God willing, we will learn one another and joyfully join the Father in what He’s doing in and around us.

Until Then,

Pastor Matt