Monday, January 26, 2015

Daddy was a P̶r̶e̶a̶c̶h̶e̶r̶ Pastor

Do you remember the movie "Papa Was A Preacher?"  It came out in the mid '80's.  I loved it.  Papa even served in a church my Daddy did!  It was pretty cool but I don't know many people who watched it.

Anyway, back to my blogpost.  When I was little and would say that my daddy was a preacher, my mom would always correct me and say that he was a pastor, there's a difference.  It took me many years to figure this out, I mean, to me,  preacher, pastor, minister were all synonyms.  As a teen, I kind of started figuring out what she meant but it's really been as a adult that it all started making sense to me, and yes, there is a difference.

My daddy was a minister and a preacher but he was a true pastor.  He cared for people, he ministered to them.  He loved the congregation where he was serving and he was there for them.  He was often there to open and close the church each day.  When there was a death he was there.  When there was illness he was there.  If someone was in the hospital he was there, if they were having surgery he was there to pray with them before hand and most often stayed with the family.  He counseled with people. He helped people get through difficult times.  He was present; present in the church, present in the community, and present in the lives of the congregation and they loved him for it.  (And as a side note, he was always present in our family as well.)

I've not really experienced very many pastors in my adult life in church. I don't know, maybe it's because I'm a preacher's kid and people think I can take care of myself and I don't need anyone.  Maybe it's just me, and other people in churches experience pastors, but for me they have mostly been preachers.

Don't get me wrong, I've loved many of the preacher's I've had over the years, I really have, but very few of them truly ministered or pastored to me and my family.

I don't know.  Maybe it's because I don't let people see the need.  Maybe it's because I smile too much.  Maybe I expect too much.  Maybe I'm completely wrong and am being too harsh, too needy.  I don't know... but I do know that if my daddy was my preacher pastor, he would be actively ministering to me and my family during our time of grief. He would be checking to see if everything was okay with us and he would be encouraging me and helping me with my own ministry as a Lay Servant Minister and Lay Speaker.  He would be present in our lives not just from the pulpit or on Sunday morning.  He would be a pastor.





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