The Successful Pastor
“THE sermon always sounds better to me on Sunday when I have had a shake of my minister’s hand during the week.” This was a very natural remark of a very sensible parishioner. We always listen with a more open-hearted readiness to every thing which falls from the lips of one who has won our friendship or showed us a grateful attention. Even the instructions from God’s Word, and the precious invitations of the gospel, come more acceptably from one we love than from him who treats us with indifference or neglect. After all, the great power of a good pastor over his people is heart-power. Intellectual brilliancy may awaken the pride of a congregation in their minister; but it is his affectionate sympathy and personal kindnesses to them that awaken their love for him and keep it burning.
When a pastor has gained a strong hold on the affections of his people, he may preach evet so pointedly against popular sins, and the people will receive his unpalatable truths without flinching, or hurling a reproach at him. On the other hand, we have known fearless denouncers of wrong-doing to be ousted from their pulpits, simply because the radical thunderers had no grip on the affections of their flock. The sermon against rum-drinking or dishonesty was a mere pretext for blackballing him: the secret reason was that they did not love the man. Conscience sometimes requires a faithful ambassador of Christ to put a severe strain on the “tether” that binds him to his pastorate: at such times it is a happy thing for him if that tether is securely fastened to a hundred family-altars and firesides. The great mass of the ministry are not men of genius; and, even if they were, they could not afford to dispense with that heart-power which can only be acquired by personal kindness and sympathy with their people.
We could name a certain successful pastor who for a quarter of a century has kept his church full and prosperous: he has sided with most of the moral reforms of the day, and his vineyard has been irrigated with many a copious revival-shower. Yet he never could be accused of brilliant talents or profound learning. He has, in their stead, a warm heart, good sense, tact, winning manners, and fervent piety. He is not a powerful preacher, but he is a powerful pastor. He knows where all his congregation live, and he visits them. He never comes as a stranger or in a ceremonious manner; if the parlor is cold, or locked up for repairs, he drops into the nui-sery, takes a youngster on his lap, chats with the mother, inquires about the spiritual welfare of the family, and probably offers a fervent prayer with them before he departs. That family are pretty certain to be at church .on the next Sunday. If a business man in his congregation has met with a reverse, he calls in at his counting-room, gives him a warm shake of the hand and a kind word of encouragement. The unfortunate merchant /eeZs the warm pressure of that hand the next time he goes to church: he is ready to put into that hand the key to his own heart.
If there is a sick child in the flock, the pastor is kneeling beside its little crib; if there is a bit of crape hanging at the door-knob, the pastor is quite sure to be found amid the weeping family within. At every pastoral visit he makes he weaves a new strand into the cord of love that binds that household to him and to the sanctuary. Such a pastor bases the pulpit on the hearts of his people; and all the mischief-making Ouy Fawkses in the parish cannot put enough powder-kegs of discontent under that pulpit to “blow out” the incumbent.
It may be said that all this pastoral visitation consumes a vast amount of time. So it does; but it can generally be made in the afternoon, while the morning is devoted to study. And the minister is studying human nature at every visit: is not this next in importance to a knowledge of God’s Word? It is idle for any pastor to plead that his flock is too large for him to visit them. The writer of this paragraph has over three hundred pews in his church, — every one of them rented, to the last sitting, — and he finds no difficulty in reaching every family, at least once in each year. The very exercise of walking from house to house is a life-preserver. Every visit gives an observant pastor some information that he wants, and some new materials for a sermon. It would be a great mercy to many a minister, — and to his people, — if he could be dragged out of his books, and be brought into personal contact with every-day life.
There is about one minister in every generation who is so situated that he cannot possibly be a visitant of his flock. Charles H. Spurgeon is such an one. With a congregation of five thousand souls, and a membership of over three thousand, with the charge of a theological school, the editorship of a religious magazine, and the oversight of a dozen mission stations, he cannot be expected to visit six or seven hundred families. Spurgeon is the hundred-handed Briareus of the modern pulpit; but the visitation of his immense flock he necessarily leaves to his board of elders. When he does encounter his parishioners, he is said to be very cordial and affable.
Many arguments might be urged in favor of regular and systematic pastoral visitation on the part of every Christian minister. For what is the real object and end of a minister’s office 1 Is it simply to preach sermons ] No I It is to Christianize and save immortal souls. It is to edify Christ’s Church, to purify society, to fight sin, to lead souls to Jesus. Preaching sermons is one of the means to this end. It is, indeed, a chief and indispensable agency. But if a pastor can prepare more practical sermons, and can lodge those sermons more effectually in the hearts of his auditors, by constant pastoral intercourse with them, then is he morally bound to keep up that intercourse. The mass of sinful men are only to be reached through their affections. Sympathy is power. Christ Jesus did not win Zaccheus
the publican, by argument. He simply went to his house, and won him by a divine sympathy. Methinks, as I close this article, I hear some good, plain, humble “fisher of souls”
whisper to me,” Brother C, I thank you
for your words of cheer. My Master never trusted me with ten talents; but he gave me one talent in my heart. I cannot be a Spurgeon; but I can go out and love somebody into the sphere of the gospel. With God’s hel;i, I may become a successful pastor.”