Alchemists, lamplighters, town criers, pinsetters, phrenologists, travel agents, switchboard operators and video store clerks have given up on finding their jobs listed in the classifieds.
Some jobs disappear, but most jobs just change. Journalists have to learn to manipulate social media. Teachers have to spend more time pleasing parents. Warehouse workers monitor robots that handle the assembling, sorting and packaging the workers used to do.
Brett Younger
Most ministers’ jobs still exist, but they have changed. We signed up to tell the story of Jesus, teach the Bible and encourage people to care for one another. We set out to help churches share with the poor, grow in their understanding of faith and invite others to be part of the congregation. We assumed if we did these things, people would show up at church and pay the bills.
The expectations have changed. The old keys don’t fit the locks anymore. The old moves don’t work anymore.
Ministers offer 20-minute sermons knowing some would rather be on their phones. We are supposed to be fluent in budgets, bylaws, reports, agendas and committees. We talk about calendars and building usage. We answer emails and try to look awake during Zoom meetings. We are doing poor imitations of CEOs, CFOs and COOs. We are minding the store rather than sharing the church.
“We are minding the store rather than sharing the church.”
Ministers are disappointed when our profession looks like it’s fading, although like the leech collectors who came before us, we feel OK about how we spent our lives. Like good linotype operators, we provided an important service, even if it seems old-fashioned now.
Ministers need a new, better way to think about our jobs. We are tempted to hide from what we should be doing by letting ourselves be consumed by a compulsion loop of doing what the regulars want. We need to find ways to keep what matters at the top of the to-do list.
I was whining to a friend about how ministers’ jobs have changed when she surprised me by asking, “So what job sounds like fun?”
I thought about it long enough to answer, “Tour guide.”
Doesn’t tour guide sound great? Carol and I have been on tours of Central Park, Harlem and Brooklyn Heights. We have learned the secrets of Grand Central Station, 30 Rock and St. Patrick’s Catacombs. We have been on food tours of Greenwich Village, Chelsea Market, Chinatown, Hell’s Kitchen and the Lower East Side. One of our favorites was a donut tour of Williamsburg, easily the best way to tour Williamsburg.
On every tour I have envied the tour guide. The best tour guides are knowledgeable and passionate. They tell stories more than they repeat facts. They encourage participation. They listen. They laugh. They adapt quickly when something unexpected happens. They admit it when they do not know something. They manage the logistics, but they know the details are not the point.
On our best days, ministers have a lot in common with knowledgeable, passionate tour guides. We tell stories. We pay attention. We laugh. We do not get lost in the details. We cover what matters most. We listen to the questions. We want everyone to feel included. We understand our job is not to be Jesus, but to point to Jesus, so we do not pretend to know everything.
Good ministers say tour-guide things like: “Look at this,” “Here’s another way to think about it,” “Listen to this story,” “What do you want to know?” or “How can I help?”
We should think of the church as a tour group. We share what Jesus taught. We admit it when we do not know something. We improvise when circumstances change. We make our way with Christ. We invite others to join the tour.
When Jesus says, “Follow me,” he sounds like a tour guide.
Brett Younger serves as senior minister at Plymouth Church in Brooklyn, N.Y., which actually is a tourist destination.