By Steven D. Mathewson

Twenty years ago, I entered seminary with visions dancing in my head of smiling faces eagerly listening to my preaching. Today, I’m still energized by preaching and teaching Scripture. But thanks to God’s instructions, I’ve learned to think realistically about this task and the way people respond to my efforts in it. Without a good dose of realism, attempting to remain faithful to your call to preach may leave you discouraged.

In Ezekiel 33:30, God tells the prophet Ezekiel, “Son of man, your people are whispering behind your back. They talk about you in their houses and whisper about you at the doors, saying, `Come on, let’s have some fun! Let’s go hear the prophet tell us what the LORD is saying!’”

That’s encouraging. Usually, when a preacher gets up to preach, the congregation is bored and expects the message to exacerbate their boredom. Most preachers don’t expect their messages will ever be discussed outside church doors or their sermons to incite people to eagerly come back and hear what the Lord is saying through them.

God continues, “‘So they come pretending to be sincere and sit before you listening’” (Ezekiel 33:31a, NLT). That’s somewhat encouraging too. These people are listening, albeit with insincere hearts. Congregations pay about as much attention to sermons as they do to the speeches flight attendants give right before takeoff: three people in the cabin are listening, while the rest are either reading USA Today or dozing.

Then God says, “‘But they have no intention of doing what I tell them. . . . You are very entertaining to them, like someone who sings love songs with a beautiful voice or plays fine music on an instrument. They hear what you say, but they don’t do it!’ ” (Ezekiel 33:31b-32, NLT)

God is basically saying, “Ezekiel, they’re treating you like a rock star.” Faith Hill’s fans may feel passionate when she sings, “Breathe,” but most don’t take that passion into their marriages. Elvis Presley could croon, “Are You Lonely Tonight?” and half the audience might burst into tears. But when they leave, they don’t act in response to the experience. They were entertained, but chances are, what they heard didn’t lead to life change.

That’s what we face when we preach. Some listeners will respond as “doers” and not merely “hearers” of God’s Word. But many will not practice what they hear, even though they tell you “Nice sermon!” (or, “Great football story!”) as they leave.

Such responses may cause you to doubt your calling. But the truth is, such responses actually confirm it.

I am confident of this because God wrapped up his instruction to Ezekiel by saying, “‘But when all these terrible things happen to them—as they certainly will—then they will know a prophet has been among them” (Ezekiel 33:33, NLT). Ultimately, you’re not responsible for the response of your listeners. You’re only responsible to deliver “what the LORD is saying!’ ” (Ezekiel 33:30).

Eventually, he will vindicate you, and people will know a preacher has been among them. Keeping this in mind will keep you true to your calling, even when the lack of life change in your listeners causes you to doubt.

ordon MacDonald on vocation

The questions hidden behind the term papers, exegetical exercises, and exposition of Homiletics 101 class are What do I do after seminary? And, even more fundamental, How do I know if I am meant to be a pastor?

Gordon MacDonald, pastor in the trenches and author of Ordering Your Private World, recognizes the shifting trend in how people find their path to ministry and identifies ways for those looking for their vocation to see where God is calling them—and to use their newly acquired skills and the God-given gifts that support them.

Ministry Mentor: Has the nature of the call to ministry changed since you went to seminary?

Gordon MacDonald: Yes. Today I’m meeting lots of young men and women who aren’t quite sure what to do with themselves and go to seminary to find out. Expressing themselves as young people seems more important than acclimating themselves to the broader culture of ministry—where they have to learn how to connect with seniors, professionals, poor people—folks of all ages and stations of life.

I get the feeling many would like to spend their time thinking up new ways of doing things before they acquire the credentials to do the basic stuff that will never change: bringing people to Jesus, caring for the struggler, and motivating the would-be disciple.

MM: Is this ambition rooted in the desire to do something significant with one’s life?

GM: Yes, and we’ve all fallen for it. Significance is a great word if we believe God determines what is and isn’t significant. But if significance means gaining favor in the eyes of others, or even striving for something that makes “me” feel satisfied and fulfilled, then it’s misplaced.

Often, the biblical heroes (Isaiah is Exhibit A) never knew if they’d done anything significant until long after their deaths. Isaiah was pretty much a failure in his lifetime. His significance came out when John the Baptizer, Jesus, and Paul all based their essential calls upon his words. Pretty significant—but it took 500 years to come about.

MM: What advice would you give to someone who senses they are called but doesn’t know where he/she will fit in after seminary?

GM: I had my seminary diploma in hand before I knew for sure I’d be a pastor. I knew I had pastoral gifts, but I hadn’t envisioned myself doing the job of a pastor. I say this because the specific role of ministry doesn’t have to be the first thing a seminary student needs to know.

MM: If not the specific role of ministry, what does a seminary student need to be sure of?

GM: He or she would do better concentrating on such issues as: Am I really called to set myself apart to the disciplines and demands of Christian service? What are the two to three gifts and skills that are at the core of my capabilities? What function or groups of people instinctively grab my imagination? If I am involved in a marriage or a serious relationship, does my spouse (or intended spouse) have similar aspirations or a desire to share ministry life with me? What do the people who know and love me most of all say about my capabilities as a spiritual influencer? Do I have the core disciplines of self-discipline and organization that will enable me to work in a foggy work environment where the bottom line is rather undefined?

It is out of questions like these that specific roles are likely to come. I became a pastor because I came to realize that my skill set, my effectiveness, my desire to be with people over the long haul was part of my being. Every time I tried the itinerant style, I found myself lacking something.

By Lisa Orris

Have you ever felt God created you for a specific purpose? Have you also questioned if your calling would ever come to fruition? Have you wondered if God forgot what he put in your heart?

These were questions I wrestled with for years. As early as high school, I found myself in front of people speaking or debating, persuading them to move toward a course of action. At age 17, it was clear I was to use those gifts for God’s service.

I was eager to begin the ministry and sought any and all avenues where I thought my gifts could be used. However, the process seemed slow and uneventful. I received a few invitations to speak, but my ministry was not taking off as I had envisioned. I began forcing my way into places where I had not been specifically called. Didn’t anyone notice I had been called by God for this specific purpose? Why wasn’t God making the way for me? After all, I was set apart for ministry—right?

Not only did this ministry not immediately unfold, but it took 23 years for God to prepare me for what was to come.

I suddenly found myself the mother of three. One day as they were in the family room playing, I looked at each of them and said to myself, These can’t be my children; this can’t be my life. It felt unreal—only it was real. This was my life, and later I would come to see that God chose the role of motherhood to refine me in preparation for ministry. But at the time, during long days, battles with two-year-olds, and cleaning up never-ending messes, I felt the Lord had forgotten what he put in my heart.

One day, a friend said she’d seen a vision concerning me. Two trees stood side by side. One tree was fruitful, while the other tree was being pruned. She explained I was the pruned tree, and that a tree must be pruned for it to grow. I wept; God hadn’t forgotten me. He was doing exactly what was needed so I could become mature and complete.

Finally, I began leading Bible studies and speaking at retreats, family camps, and other seminars. I could no longer deny the call God placed in my heart.

But how could I possibly consider a seminary education with three children and a husband in ministry? How would I pay for it? How would I find time to study? Most of all, I asked, Lord, do you know how old I am? I kept putting it off without acknowledging that with God, all things are possible.

Amid this struggle, I received an application for a scholarship to seminary. I filled it out, and several weeks later I was awarded the scholarship—all my tuition would be covered! God cleared my path for the next four years.

Today, I have completed two years of seminary. My children are thriving, and they keep reminding me of the things that are most important.

Yes, 23 years seems a long time to wait for the Lord to bring to fruition his calling. However, I am convinced we must remain faithful to whatever the Lord puts in front of us in the present. It’s in the seemingly insignificant times that God reveals the deep things of himself. Too often, we miss these moments in anticipation of what we think the Lord is going to do—when he is already accomplishing his purposes in a powerful way.

“Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for a child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on my hand” (Isaiah 49:15-16, NLT).