reading the past usefully 

Sometimes reading the classical texts of pastoral theology is demoralising. Chrysostom, Gregory the Great, Richard Baxter, Charles Bridges. Just to name a few. Their theology is soaring. Their understanding of the needs of the flock so intricate and intimate. Their personal commitment to the work so stunning. Their churchmanship…unparalleled. And today? My own theology and practice of pastoral ministry? Those of the Christian world around me, the world in which I am steeped? Pathetic. Incompetent. Worse than that, borderline idolatrous. Faithless. Comparing my own understanding and actions with those of the best of the Christian tradition leaves me weighed in the balance and found wanting.

That can be helpful. Actually, it’s one reason I keep going back to the texts, again and again. I oughtn’t get too comfortable with whatever measure of success God gives me in my own congregational setting. These time-honoured works of pastoral theology revive the fire of God in my belly; they urge me on to greater repentance and greater faithfulness. That’s not something I should despise.

And yet, it’s easy to read works from the church past with a glossy photo sort of perspective. As if it were so much easier to be a pastor then. As if Gregory or Baxter weren’t climbing uphill in ministry then in many of the same ways I feel I am today. As if the church was in a better state in ‘those’ days than today. As if men were more manly then and pastors were more pastorly then and churches were more churchly then. If only I could have been born then and ministered then. Then I’d be a more faithful shepherd.

Even to say it exposes how silly the thought is.

Sometimes it’s appropriate to put aside the hagiography, the glossy photo perspective, and see the past realistically. Put away the longing for battles that have already been fought and won, and thus require so very little courage from us today. Put aside the complaints that I’m not Chrysostom or Gregory or Baxter; I’m not, but what does that matter? Put aside the excuses about how those men were trained or their pastoral context or their personalities.

And just read their works, to learn. For my own soul. Today.

I’m going – God-willing – to journal my way through one classical text of pastoral theology: Henry Bullinger’s Decades. It’s a massive two-volume set of sermons that’s intended to give the reader (originally the listener) a basic but systematic introduction to the Christian faith. It’s also intended as something of a manual for pastors who aren’t quite sure what they’re meant to do in ministry (more on that next time).

So what are my goals from this project?

  1. To learn. What’s the well-known comment? ‘The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.’ That can be really helpful for pastoral ministry. It’s good to get out of our own ministry contexts today and learn from others who ministered in very different situations to our own. To be honest, we should also learn more from pastors in different ministry contexts around the world in our own day, but that’s a discussion for another time.
  2. To be edified. Good pastoral theology that’s been around for centuries has survived for a reason. In other words, with all the books that have been lost over the history of the church, it’s not an accident that the classics have been kept. One reason is how encouraging they have been to the souls of Christ’s shepherds. Good pastoral theology warms the heart and strengthens the mind. We need encouragement today, and I think Bullinger can provide just the sort of edification we need.
  3. To be convicted. There is value in measuring ourselves according to the standards of pastors who’ve come before us. We may not do everything the way they did. We may not even believe everything they did. But we’re foolish if we think they have nothing to offer us. And very often, one of the chief benefits they have to offer us today is to call us to repentance for our laziness in the work, our shallowness in our thought, our indifference to the needs of Christ’s sheep. I hope Bullinger will help me repent better, as a Christian but also as a pastor.
  4. To incite. I hope and pray Bullinger incites me and anyone else who reads his Decades to be a better Christian and a better pastor. Let’s not wallow in how pathetic we are compared to Bullinger or anyone else in the canon of must-read historical texts. Let’s get busy applying what’s valuable in their lessons and growing in our understanding and practice of caring for Christ’s sheep today. If Bullinger can motivate us to think more carefully, read more deeply, love more sincerely, care more helpfully, and depend upon God more completely, then this is time well spent.

Ready to consider what one pastor from the past thought essential for pastoral ministry?


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