Some Reflections on Time with Eugene Peterson

Some years ago, while in San Antonio, my family decided to visit the Alamo.  We knew it was somewhere downtown, and we kept circling until I saw what appeared to be an advertisement.  Running over to get the details, I suddenly realized it was the Alamo.  Somehow I had imagined something far bigger—perhaps because of some John Wayne movie years earlier.

Last week, I was afraid of a similar let down.  It’s easy to allow things to become larger than life, and having read Eugene Peterson for years, I finally had an opportunity to meet this pastor/author.  I was attending a pastors convention where he spoke, and I wanted to meet a man who has shaped my understanding of pastoral ministry more than anyone else.  Who can read Working the Angles or Under the Unpredictable Plant without being challenged to reconsider ministry in light of cultural expectations?  Who can work through his recent spiritual theologies like Christ Plays without doing some reassessment of one’s walk with God, rethink what it means to fear God?

What I found was a soft spoken voice, backed with a powerful presence, who was as large as life.  In typical fashion, Peterson used the main session to ask the question—what are pastors good for?  It’s a question all of us in the room often ask ourselves.  Especially on Monday mornings—we are prone to ask--are we good for anything?  And Peterson, as he always does, came back to the essentials.  Pastors are good for taking care of a congregation—treating the landscape with reverence—paying attention to what God is doing rather than conforming the church into something we want it to be—insisting that the Bible is true, but more, that it is livable.  This is what we are good for--speaking the Word into people’s lives.  If the Scriptures are not our text, we have nothing distinctive to say.  I know this is true.  Apart from discerning the intent of the text, and preaching it, I have very little to offer my congregation. 

One of the more revealing moments was a question and answer session.  Here he shared what he missed in pastoring—working in the details of lives, speaking the word of redemption into the mess most people get themselves into.  I wondered if I will miss this.  I think I will.  There’s nothing like offering hope to someone who has tried everything the world offers, and has come up empty.  In a very candid moment, he talked about his life in retirement, recognizing that one does not arrive—that the same challenges to love, hope, the same temptations to impatience, the same moments of doubt and despair are still there.  As he put it—“I wasn’t ready for that.”  I probably will not be either.  Someone asked about his use of technology, and he, in typical fashion, warned pastors that while it is a cultural force for great good, technology can also do terrible things.  We all know this, but what we may not always realize is that technology is a poor substitute for communication.  E-mails are good, but they can tend to be a way of avoiding one another.  My wife works in a professional setting where her supervisor will only communicate through e-mails.  No wonder 90% of language today is not communication.  Communicates gets to root issues—to what is inside.  But most of language today is just talk—and technology has helped make this possible.

One person asked a question surely on the minds of many who are about building God’s church.  “Is it possible for a pastor of a large church to be a pastor?”  I was curious, as I have transitioned from pastoring mid-size churches to a larger one.  And if I am honest with myself, there are days I wonder how much I am a pastor.  I use to know most everyone.  Now, after preaching in five services, lives can be a blur.  And while I tell myself my main role is preaching and leading, I wonder at times if I am still a shepherd.  Peterson’s response was not surprising.  As he put it, “I’m not sure.  I’ve never seen it done”.  The way pastors have pastored for 2000 years is not what pastoring is today.  It has become something else—something more akin to managing corporations.

He underscored the positives of longevity, noting that pastors tend to move, largely out of boredom.  Marriage has its boredom as well, but it doesn’t mean you leave.  And if you leave a ministry because of dullness, the next pastorate will be shorter.  Peterson also spoke of prayer.  One would expect this.  It is at the heart of much of what he has written, much of what he has done.  Prayer is answering speech.  It comes out of a dialogue with God, and it is God who always has the first word.  We don’t learn how to do it.  Like climbing a mountain, we learn how to pray as we go.  I’m still learning—I know this.

The highlight was a brief lunch.  I had my notepad filled with questions, but something seemed to say—just sit back and enjoy a conversation over soup.  And I did, and it was good.  The rest of the conference was helpful.  But frankly, much of it was like paint by number compared to being with a seasoned pastor who has painted and continues to paint original masterpieces.