I'm grateful this morning for all the pastors and men of God who have shaped and enriched my life, starting with my grandfather, father, brothers and brother-in-law, and my own sons and son-in-laws who pastor. Well-known pastors, pastors who I've never met (like Spurgeon, Lloyd-Jones, Tozer, Mueller and hundreds who've shaped me). Humble pastors who serve faithfully with little applause but love Jesus deeply and shepherd the flock God has given them. (They are the greatest heroes).
Pastors who are just good friends (I am blessed with several, by God's grace). I even thank God for a few pastors who have opposed me along the way, for they help me with my incessant pride problem and sharpen my understanding.
Mentors who invested in me (Manley Beasley, Ron Dunn, Henry Blackaby, Max Barnett, Richard Owen Roberts, and many others). Pastors who have encouraged me and prayed for me. Red Baker who hired me as a Senior in High School and let me lead and preach once a month (what a risk!). And the younger pastors that I've had the privilege to know and invest in a bit (having lunch with one today).
Pastors are God's good gifts to us. They walk a line between great joys and great sorrow; high moments of victory and the lowest valleys of defeat. They get depressed and deeply discouraged and are the peculiar target of Satan's most effective weapons. You'd be surprised how one word of criticism can crush them. Spurgeon would sometimes leave and tell no one where he was going, retreating to get his soul back.
But in the end, I'm grateful for the One who has pastored me for 71 years. The Great Shepherd and Guardian of my soul. He understands me, comforts and corrects me, and is perfect in His kindness and overwhelming in His love. Oh, Father, how we love you!
It would be good for your soul (and theirs) for you to make a list of the pastors who've helped you and write them a long letter telling them why. They don't get that often. But most of all, pray for them daily. Give them grace, for they forget things, drop the ball at times, mispronounce your name, preach mediocre sermons more often than they wish, and are often discouraged. But they will preach our funeral messages and bury us when we die. In the end, they are God's good gifts to us, helping us along the road over long seasons of life. They most certainly have been so to me.
