Posted in Life

Disposable

Photo by Anastasiia T. on Unsplash

I asked my barber, “How often do you have someone sharpen your scissors?”

He replied, “I don’t do that anymore. The last pair came back ruined. So I just buy a box of a dozen and use a new pair when the old ones start to pull.”

I remember a friend of mine who had owned several restaurants telling me someone came to sharpen her kitchen knives every two weeks. I assumed that barbers and stylists did the same. Your favorite pair of scissors is worth maintaining, right?

Not any more. Scissors have become disposable, just like shoes and televisions. I’m old enough to remember when we had a shoe repair shop in our community. A new set of heels added life to my favorite comfortable, broken-in, leather shoes. Now it’s cheaper to buy new shoes than find a shoemaker.

I remember my dad taking the back off our TV to fix whatever wasn’t working. He was an electrical engineer, so he knew exactly what he was doing. He would take some of the vacuum tubes to the hardware store to test them. Sometimes he would replace one. Other times he would solder something. With a multimeter in hand, he could figure out which resistor or capacitor to replace.

I doubt anyone repairs TVs any more. A new one is inexpensive and probably better than the one you bought a year ago. Just put it out with all the others on trash day.

Posted in people, preaching

The blessing of being dispensable

In the sermon this morning, I talked a little about being “indispensable.” It came up in the context of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians where he writes, “the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable” (1 Corinthians 12:22).

Who is indispensable in the life of the church? One might be tempted to say, “the pastor.” I would disagree. I am blessed to have a number of retired pastors worshiping with our congregation. I asked them, “When you retired, did they shut the doors of the church? Did the ministry fold?” Of course not. That church called another pastor. The ministry continued. Rather than being indispensable, we pastors are quite replaceable.

I think this is an important part of longevity in the ministry. The church was here before me. It will be here when I’m gone. What happens when you think of yourself as disposable, dispensable and replaceable? All kinds of good things!

First, you value God and other people much more. As your importance decreases, theirs increases. God’s eternal. He’s always around. He’s the one you want to depend on.

And other people? They are the reason you get to be a pastor. They are the ones you’ve been called to shepherd. They are the ones who need to hear the voice of their shepherd. And you are the one called to preach the word. You wouldn’t have a job without them. I so enjoy preaching, teaching and administering the sacraments. But I wouldn’t get to do any of it were it not for our Lord’s sacrificial love for his people.

Second, you let others shine. You are not the main event. They are. They reach many more people than I ever will. I spend most of my time with those who believe, who are already saved. But the congregation is out there in the world, where they live and where they work. They are out there on the front lines, living out their faith. They know, talk to and witness to people I will never meet. I may help equip them for that task, but they are the ones who actually engage in it.

Finally, you marvel at the work of his hands. You appreciate all those who come to listen week after week. You thank God for all those who daily pray for you. You are grateful for those who make it possible for you to do what you do. And you are motivated to do your best – for their sake. They need to hear,; you get to preach. Actually, you need to preach. It’s a part of who you are. But you couldn’t do it without them. They are indispensable.