Philosophy of Ministry in Institutions

Philosophy of Ministry in Institutions by Rev. Jason R. Pointer, M.A.

(Presented in Partial Requirements for Completion of CPE Residency Program)

Introduction: The Privilege of Position

On my 16th birthday my parents handed me the keys to a beat-up Toyota Corolla (which was a pale mustard yellow color to boot) with more than 100,000 miles on it. In my small country town where the rules of the road were lax, I’d been driving for a full two years but never had a car that was “mine.” Two days earlier, a classmate and friend turned 16 and was given the keys to a brand-new truck. Needless to say, I was more than just a bit envious despite the fact that we were the only two in our core group of six friends who had their own wheels.

Over the next two-plus years my friend and I basically split the driving duties – if it was a small group he drove the truck; if it was the full “six-pack” I drove the car. By the time we graduated I had ran that poor little car into the ground. So much so that my dad had to give me his semi-new truck to go off to college with, junked the Toyota and was forced to get a new truck for himself. My friend, meanwhile, drove that truck for at least seven years. When I came home for my younger sisters’ high school graduation, it pretty much looked just like the day he got it.

During my departmental orientation, another resident chaplain and myself received a tour of the hospital by one of the Catholic Sisters. I felt like I was on a security detail for a rock star – she was greeted enthusiastically everywhere she went, hugged and kissed, and generally treated with a great deal of respect and reverence. I noticed it – after all, why wouldn’t a Catholic Sister in a Catholic hospital be welcomed warmly – but didn’t make any more of it until I had started my clinical work on the floor.

In my opinion, the opportunity to be a chaplain and pastoral care giver in any setting is a blessing to be appreciated. But in this particular institution – as part of a Catholic healthcare system with an ongoing commitment to meeting the highest professional standards of pastoral care – it’s like being given the keys to a brand-new car. In retrospect, my high school friend understood something I didn’t – that instead of taking for granted the gift I was given, he cherished his. He took care of it over the years and took great pride in maintaining its’ performance and appearance. I just ran mine into the ground. He made good on his parents show of trust with the way he treated it. I basically forced my parents to buy a new car prematurely and did little in the way of building the kind of trust a young man wants from his parents. 

An old military adage says that, “rank has its’ privileges.” While it may be true that in certain circumstances rank, seniority, status or position give a person an advantage, once the advantage has been given it’s up to the individual to make good on the opportunity. After orientation and finally out on the floor, it didn’t take too long to figure out that I had not just been handed the keys to a shiny new car but to a rather finely-tuned sports car. Throughout this residency year I’ve felt a deep sense of responsibility to continue to uphold the high standard of pastoral care that the staff, patients and families have come to expect and deserve.

The privilege of the position I’ve been allowed to occupy was validated every time someone showed respect or regard to me as the chaplain, a daily occurrence to say the least. It was reinforced again and again through productive and meaningful interdisciplinary encounters with members of treatment teams and support services. The hard work, dedication, care and loving-kindness of previous resident classes and permanent staff over the years has created an obvious sense of the chaplain being welcomed and appreciated throughout the hospital and into the community. To not see this as an amazing gift from God – as well as a tremendous ministry platform – is akin to not seeing the forest for the trees. But like every gift, it has to be opened and used by the recipient for its’ full sense of worth to be felt.

I. The Privilege of Being Called

While I don’t believe you need to have a specific calling to vocational ministry be a chaplain it’s obviously a worthwhile pursuit and not one for the faint of heart. Being called into ministry is, in many ways, a mysterious thing to me. My personal theology delineates the calling or “set apart” nature of the congregational minister. Ephesians 3:7-8 says, “I became a servant of this gospel by the gift of God’s grace given me through the working of his power. Although I am less than the least of all the Lord’s people, this grace was given me: to preach to the Gentiles the boundless riches of Christ.” (NIV) Ephesians 4:11 goes on to say, “So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers.” (NIV)

Additionally, the qualifications set out for the “overseer” (or pastor) in 1st Timothy 3 and Titus 1 suggest a certain combination of grace-filled giftedness and personal disciplines as lenses through which to view those who claim the “call” to vocational ministry. 1st Timothy 3:1-7 reads, “Here is a trustworthy saying: Whoever aspires to be an overseer desires a noble task. Now the overseer is to be above reproach, faithful to his wife, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not given to drunkenness, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. He must manage his own family well and see that his children obey him, and he must do so in a manner worthy of full respect. (If anyone does not know how to manage his own family, how can he take care of God’s church?) He must not be a recent convert, or he may become conceited and fall under the same judgment as the devil. He must also have a good reputation with outsiders, so that he will not fall into disgrace and into the devil’s trap.” (NIV)

Titus 1:7-9 puts it more succinctly, “Since an overseer manages God’s household, he must be blameless—not overbearing, not quick-tempered, not given to drunkenness, not violent, not pursuing dishonest gain. Rather, he must be hospitable, one who loves what is good, who is self-controlled, upright, holy and disciplined. He must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that he can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it.” (NIV)

I’ve understood for more than 30 years that I have a calling to vocational ministry, although my resume and the circuitous route I’ve taken thus far would argue. A few years ago – at the encouragement of my wife Cindy – I began to explore chaplaincy. As I began volunteering at another local hospital, there was a tension between being true to that original calling and then also true to the developing giftedness for and desire to give pastoral care. That tension was assuaged, in part, by a growing understanding of the extremely high standards set for professional chaplains, which included ordination.

I began to look at my work in chaplaincy much as I did the time I spent in Nigeria as a missionary. I saw my wife and I as equal stake-holders in the “calling” to serve overseas, which I saw, more or less, as a “call to special service.” The fact that I eventually became the teaching pastor of an international church was, in truth, subsequent to us heeding that special call. I see chaplaincy much in the same way – as a “call to special service” that, for me, preserves the essence of the larger calling.

When I take a moment to reflect on my personal journey from coming to Christ to now, I see a number of significant milestones that have directly shaped my philosophy of ministry, especially as it relates to the idea of it a privilege to be called. My unique religious heritage is informed by grandparents who were devoutly Catholic (maternal) and Pentecostal (paternal) but by parents who didn’t completely embrace it themselves. Coming to Christ at nearly 18, I remember life before having a relationship with the God and have always had a keen sense of what a privilege it is to have been adopted into the family of the God of all creation.

I accepted the call to ministry at 20, married at 21 but divorced – not by my choice – at 25, setting off a six-year self-imposed sentence as the proverbial Prodigal Son. Through the process of renewing my faith I experienced the first of three extremely powerful encounters with the redeeming power of God’s love for and interest in me. The fact that He would bring me into His family in the first place has always been humbling, but the fact that He forgave my transgressions and opened His arms to me again is beyond my ability to understand.

Believing that I would likely never have a chance to be married again and thinking that I had abdicated my call to ministry – but being happy that I was simply alive and renewed in my heart – I really didn’t care what direction my life or career went. Whether it was to continue in broadcasting or something else was of little consequence only that I had a sense of privilege to be in a position of being unencumbered to serve God.

You can only imagine my ecstasy at having the chance, at 32, to be married again and to be more happily so now than at any point in the past 21 years. I’ve tried to never take this second chance for granted; just thinking about it fills me with a gratefulness beyond description. Then, at 35, feeling the renewed call to ministry quite literally dropped me to my knees the day I was visited by God’s Spirit. It was like a reservation had been made for me at a restaurant and was only ready for me at such a time as I was willing to sit down at the table and embrace the opportunity to truly commune and dine with my Heavenly Father.

At 42, feeling the call to serve as a missionary set off a wild journey that took my wife and I to Nigeria and back. That God would entrust to me such an important undertaking is beyond me. That He did entrust it to me fills me with the kind of gratitude that still today, at 53, fuels my desire to be attentive and available to the Holy Spirit’s leading. In the sum of things, I’ve truly run out of superlatives to try to describe how I feel. Second chances to walk with God, to marry the love of my life and to be of use in ministry again inform the daily, and even moment-by-moment, living of my life.

Those blessings are never too far out of mind. Nor should they be. Those are painful places that I used to live but don’t anymore; places filled with heartache and disappointment. Now, as a chaplain, a renewed sense of purpose is coming into focus. Like an old prospector might mine a vein of gold back in the old days, I can’t wait to get to work each day to see what God has in store as I uncover a passion for pastoral care that was only hinted at before and run headlong into opportunities to journey with patients, family and staff along difficult paths.

If I had to distill my philosophy of ministry as it relates to my calling, this would be it – that I have an unapologetic enthusiasm for serving God that begins from a place deep within my soul that’s overflowing with thankfulness, it filters through a powerful sense of obligation and duty, hopefully ending up in some tangible form like the Fruit of the Spirit from Galatians 5:22-23, “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” (NIV) That’s the basic “business model” for how I approach ministry.

Philippians 1:6, “Being confident of this, he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (NIV)

II. The Privilege of Being Cultivated

When I think of the word “cultivated” the image that comes to mind is a field or garden being plowed or tilled. There’s a lot to getting the most out of an actual piece of land. Preparing the soil begins with knowing what you’re dealing with in the first place so you can decide what it needs. There’s not a one-size-fits-all solution; it depends on what you’re growing. In the end, there’s a cycle that essentially breaks down to tilling, fertilizing, planting, watering, tending, growing, harvesting, resting, sometimes rotating and usually repeating.

It occurs to me that there are a lot of similarities to how a real garden might be tended to and how God tends to us and spurs on our development. Each step along the way contains its own unique challenges and its own potential heartaches and joys. For example, getting started with the tilling can be a very uncomfortable process. We get set in our ways and hold onto things too tightly. It takes attentiveness to the Holy Spirit to see where in your life God wants to work.

For me personally, for the longest time, I lost that attentiveness and a lot of areas in my life went unattended to for far too long. When things get overgrown it can be hard to see clearly. With so many weeds, it can be paralyzing trying to decide where to start. One of the unique challenges of this residency process – and something that has greatly influenced my philosophy of ministry as it relates to personal growth – has been coming to grips with the scope of my personal illness story. Sickness, injury and physical hardships left me out of work and out of touch for several years. As my body worsened so did my spirits and, if I’m being completely honest, at times even my will to live was suspect.

For someone who’s wired to be an eternal optimist, living in this dark space for such a long time has made coming back into the light an even sweeter experience than I could’ve imagined. I can add this new chapter of my life as yet another second chance. While I still have a long way to go before I consider myself ideally “fit for duty” I realize that the “new me” may never be quite that again. So, the challenge for me has been to rediscover who I am and what the garden of my life might look like moving forward.

In actual agricultural terms, finding completely new ground to plow is difficult. Most actual fields are those that have been fields and will likely always be fields. For God to be revealing that He’s brought me to this unique place in my life to plow some new ground is incredibly exciting. At each stage of my journey there have been similar elements and feelings of privilege and even destiny, of being given unique and special opportunities to use my time, talent and treasure to serve God. When I discover something that I believe was meant for me there’s a deep feeling of appreciation that’s hard to put into words.

As painful as the process can be, it’s truly a privilege to be cultivated; to be considered worthy to be a field that God can develop for His pleasure. In the rediscover of myself, I’ve begun to learn – on one hand – how to embrace my past see how it (both the emotional and physical pain) can inform my pastoral care. On the other hand, there’s the aspect of living free of that pain (at least the emotional part for now) so that I’m not in bondage to my past. The blood of my savior Jesus Christ has paid the price for that pain and, as He is imminently faithful, He makes “beauty from ashes” on a daily basis in my life.

My yoke is a tool that allows God to use me just as a farmer might use an ox to plow the field. The difference is I get to choose whether to put that yoke on every day and what my attitude is about it. My physical yoke is still incredibly heavy – heavier than most – but if I allow myself to be attached to the Master and am a willing participant in His plan, I can come to understand, in time, the desire He has for the field I’m sowing in, whether it be internal or external. Then, from time to time – maybe through church, close friends or trusted colleagues – we may get a chance to plow in a field together, much like the resident class has had with each other.

What power is at the hand of the Master when multiple servants willingly submit their yoke to Him! We’ve had a hand in plowing some very important and sensitive ground and have been involved in something greater than ourselves. For this unique chance at a deep level of community with a small group of friends is the greatest of honors for me. It’s for this that makes the putting on of the burdensome yoke and the painful tilling of the personal ground worthwhile.

Understanding that God has brought me to this place in my life and has invited me to be fragile and vulnerable helps form my philosophy of ministry as it relates to being cultivated, or developed, or prepared, or grown, whatever word suits your taste. For me, there are significant temptations always so close to the surface that if I don't have my heart and mind right to begin and end each day, they would crush me under the weight. And if I didn't have a resilient inner dialogue going throughout the day I would be overwhelmed by all the other voices that would distract me from being attentive to the Holy Spirit.

I refuse to be crushed by the enemy. I refuse to dwell again in the dark places of my past. As I mentioned, I may have lived in those various places before, but God has redeemed those times and has restored what the enemy may have stolen in my infirmity. There are historical markers along the way as reminders of what once was and it’s beneficial to revisit those places now and again. But I’ve been given too many second chances in life that if God wants to break me down to build me up into something stronger I consider it a privilege. It's an honor, not a nuisance, to be considered worthy for that kind of responsibility – the kind of “thorn in the flesh” the Apostle Paul mentions in 2nd Corinthians 12.

1st Corinthians 7:17, “Nevertheless, each person should live as a believer in whatever situation the Lord has assigned to them, just as God has called them.” (NIV)

III. The Privilege of Being a Chaplain

Imagine going to the bank to open an account and finding that you already have one. Or more to the point, your name is listed with a group of people in a joint account. With the many members of this group – past and present – having made various contributions, you see that the account has a significant amount of money in it. You can go ahead and open your own account and go your own way. No one would fault you for that. After all, until you got to the bank you never realized that your name had been put on that account with the others. Or, you can put your personal treasure into the joint account and set about giving your time and talent to using those resources for the sake of a larger cause.

In coming to work and study here I came to realize that we occupy a very privileged position having a vast surplus in the currency of reputation. From the department to the hospital and now to the new system, the individual chaplain is essentially walking the halls with a bank account so full, he couldn’t possibly ever blow it all. The “solvency” of the pastoral care department is so substantial that when the inevitable withdrawals are made, the bottom line barely budges.

There’s inherent risk in what we do – when we lean into people’s lives and try to share in their hurt, pain, misery or grief. My impression has been that we seem to get it right most of the time but it would also be fair to say that some of our encounters fall flat and, with each one, a withdrawal comes out. The laboratory of the residency program provides a safety net for trying new and different things – risks that oftentimes fail – and with every one another small withdrawal is made.

The week of presenting this paper marks the 10th anniversary of my father passing. He used to remind me that, when it comes time to leave the company of people, the comfort of a place or the convenience of things, leave them in better shape than when you found them. The hard-earned sweat equity, built up over time, of the pastoral care department was substantial before I ever showed up and put my two cents in. So much good will has been engendered by the prayerful and thoughtful service of many chaplains.

While I hope that I’m leaving things better than I found them, I can say for absolute certainty that I’ve been more willing to take a risk or try something new or different knowing that, if I blow it, it only creates a very small ripple in a very big pond. That is truly a privileged position from which to minister, work, reflect, study and grow. And even if you don’t have the atmosphere of community or the departmental integration within the institution you may currently serve, you still have the overarching honor of being a chaplain in the first place. The positional authority you may have by virtue of the job title then affords you the chance to build into it over time with your personal and spiritual authority.

Romans 15:13, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (NIV)

Conclusion: The Privilege of Continued Service

When Cindy and I were going through the lengthy training process of preparing for Nigeria, we were exposed to many different ideas and philosophies about serving in a foreign country. One of the most insidious, in my opinion, was the idea of “going native” – that to be effective you had to become one of, or “one with,” the people to whom you were serving. The idea of completely immersing yourself into their culture is, in many ways, very appealing. After all, God has put these people on your heart, so it’s not unreasonable to expect that to reach them you must speak their language, eat their food, wear their clothes and generally abide by their customs.

As I grappled with the idea, it eventually occurred to me that God brought me to Nigeria. He didn’t make me Nigerian, he made me American, then sent me to Nigeria. To me, that meant that somehow, in Nigeria – where I was expected to (and excited to be) learning about their culture – I must also maintain some form of “American-ness.” I had a responsibility to strike a balance between the two and the image that resonated with me was that I was “leaning into” the culture of Nigeria while being “tethered to” the values that I bring as an American. It was that balanced approach that allowed us to enter well, serve well and – while it wasn’t what we had planned to do – to eventually leave well. The beginnings of what has become my complicated illness story brought us home.

By means of full disclosure and context I must tell you that I once preached a sermon on how to know and do God’s will. I illustrated it with the simple idea of open and closed doors. Try all of the doors. If it’s closed and locked, try it once more just to make sure and move on until you find an open one. Be careful not to rush in too quickly because there may be many open doors. Step in lightly, survey the situation and see how it feels being in that room before you close the door behind you. I illustrated it personally by saying that for Cindy and I there were lots of open doors and possibilities in ministry for us. In fact, there was only one absolutely closed door and that was foreign missions . . . .

Where we had placed a closed door, and built a white picket fence, God had in mind the opportunity for us the privilege of continued service in another country. Where I thought there wasn’t even the opportunity for meaningful service in the first place, God welcomed the Prodigal back. Where I had let weeds fill the fields of my heart and mind, God’s Spirit has blazed out a path and laid out before me the privilege of continued service in a new role, as a pastoral care giver. God sheds light where there was darkness and brings joy (or at least a measure of peace) to some of the painful places. The philosophy of my pastoral care – as it relates to future opportunities – is deeply affected by my awareness of the “long and winding road” I’ve travelled the past 35 years and the many opportunities I’ve had to continue in God’s service.

Even when I think I see a clear path laid out before me, I’ve learned not to claim the right to anything except to be God’s son. Everything else I must hold on to loosely. If “faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1, KJV) I hope to make choices that reflect that substance and to give the kind of tangible evidence that shows my parishioners that I live that faith every day in a genuine and authentic way. It’s not something I simply bring with me but something I am, and, as we journey together through the darkness of pain and suffering, that special thing that we hope for – the redemption of mankind through Jesus Christ – is somehow shared together, either now or in eternity.

My philosophy of ministry in institutions hinges on the privilege of position – a place reserved for those looked upon as trustworthy, dependable and decent – a person who points others towards their own solutions while offering kind and compassionate emotional and spiritual care. Within the position itself is the privilege of being called to service, of being cultivated and made ready for that service, being given the chance to provide that service in the immediate, and the continuing opportunities to serve into whatever future God designs for me.

Jeremiah 33:3, “Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.” (NIV)

“Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can . . . as long as you ever can.” John Wesley

Rev. Jason R. Pointer, M.A. / August 1, 2017