I had finally arrived - I was officially a pastor now that I had business cards. From the day that these business cards arrived (with, of course, the snazzy little metal business card carrying case), I was prepared to spread the word about our church by slipping my card into the hands of whoever I might meet - the pastor of a neighboring church, my neighbor, the mayor, Bob Stoops, whoever. This is what pastors do, and I am going to be great at it because I have professional looking business cards. Or so I thought.
My initial order was for 250 business cards. I figured that would be good to start with and, after a few months of liberally spreading them around Oklahoma City, I could order more to replenish my supply. Well, as I sit here typing this, almost exactly one year later, I have hardly made a dent in the 250. All those opportunities to slip a card into someone's hand or pocket didn't quite materialize like I thought they would. And the few that I did give away weren't to Bob Stoops or the mayor, but to people like Sheree and Lynette - people who came looking for help and who left with my card and a hearty, "Call us if there's anything else we can do for you." Certainly not what I had been expecting when I placed that order.
Truth be told, though, I am glad that I haven't given away all those cards and, to be even more brutally honest, I'm kind of ashamed of my fascination with them to begin with. Business cards, it seems to me, are often used as signs of power and influence. They are designed to be tools of self aggrandizement, of self promotion. That's why people design business cards with flashy colors and ornate designs and with celtic crosses in the background.
It is also why the biggest thing on most business cards is the name of the person, as is certainly the case with mine. Right in the center, in bigger letters than almost everything else on the card, you will see the words, "Rev. Joseph E. Boggs." And those words are where the problems begin - as if this thing called May Avenue Wesleyan Church has anything at all to do with me. Or, perhaps it would be better to say, as if "Rev. Joseph E. Boggs" played any significant role in creating the church in Oklahoma City.
It was not my birth that made angels sing. No one has dropped everything to follow me. I did not go willingly to my death so that the people of Oklahoma City could experience love and grace and freedom like no other. The same is true of any pastor of any church. It's not us. No matter how good the preaching or how effective the leadership, it is not the pastor that is the driving force behind the church. It is not the pastor's name that belongs on the front of the business card.
Of course, I'm not trying to say that business cards for pastors are inherently evil or that they are not useful tools in ministry. Neither am I saying that we pastors should create business cards with the name of Jesus on them instead of our own - just imagine the confusion that would ensue if, in the place of "Rev. Joseph E. Boggs," my business card simply said, "Jesus, Son of God." No thanks - my messiah complex isn't quite that developed.
What I AM saying, though, is that business cards can be a symptom and a symbol of pride. Every pastor faces the temptation to place himself or herself in the place of priority, to succumb to the thought that it is he or she that makes the church what it is and to lose sight of the fundamental truth that the church is only what it is meant to be when Christ and Christ alone is its head. I don't need to advertise me, I need only to point to Christ. Who cares what my name is or whether or not I carry the title of "Reverend." All that matters is the one who constantly breathes life into the dead bones of sinful people and through that breath creates life and animates HIS church.
