Every Pastor Must Get Stoned

One of the things that I have hoped to accomplish with Greatheart’s Table is to facilitate people of grace finding one another. I want pastors of small churches particularly to know that they are not alone, that their challenges are not unique, and that there are those who genuinely understand what they are facing and would be their friends if they ever could meet. 

I wrote about this some time ago noticing how in zombie movies the people who need each other find each other. Even those who don’t like zombie movies (which is most of you, apparently) still caught the point, that

The people of grace who form communities of grace may differ in secondary convictions, in color of skin, in background, in gifts, or in many other ways, and they may be troubled by different demons, and yet the resulting communities survive in beautiful ways. Whether in a zombie movie or in the complexities of modern Christian culture, people of grace need each other and, it is hoped, find each other.

It is, then, in the spirit of that desire to connect people of grace in public conversation that I will introduce next week the first in what I hope will be a number of podcast interviews tailored to the audience of Greatheart’s Table. To move in this direction feels appropriate given the metaphor that is at the heart of Greatheart’s Table. We are all about having conversations about life and ministry, conversations that most comfortably occur around a table. Thus far, I’ve been the only one speaking around that table. Now, on the fifth Mondays, I’ll pull in others to talk about topics of interests to the Greatheart’s Table audience. It’s my opportunity to introduce to you other people of grace.

The title I’ve chosen for these episodes, “Rainy Day Conversations around Greatheart’s Table,” is intended to capture the culture I’m trying to facilitate. I’m drawing this title primarily from Gordon Lightfoot’s 1975 song “Rainy Day People.” 

Rainy day people always seem to know when it's time to call
Rainy day people don't talk, they just listen 'til they've heard it all
Rainy day lovers don't lie when they tell 'ya they've been down like you
Rainy day people don't mind if you're cryin' a tear or two

There is something Christlike about those who will just listen and aren’t bothered by honest tears. We should aspire to be such people. 

Other pop culture allusions regarding rain can be drug in to serve this theme. The Carpenters were not fans of rainy days and Mondays, but I like both. The Beatles, little darlin’, want us to be hopeful at the coming of the sun, but sometimes the sun needs to make way for the rain. It’s rain, Eponine notes in Les Mis, that makes the flowers grow. Rainy days, and rainy day people, attract me.

As I was pondering these things my friend Nate drew my attention to the 1966 Bob Dylan song enigmatically titled “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35.” The title touches upon the rainy day theme, but a song written in the 1960s whose repeated refrain says “everybody must get stoned” begs to be interpreted in the light of the drug culture of the time. But Nate did his research and quoted Dylan as saying, "It doesn't surprise me that some people would see it that way. But these are people that aren't familiar with the Book of Acts."

Nate, like Dylan, is familiar with the Book of Acts and points out that this “might be more appropriate than we think for a newsletter that frequently discusses the opposition pastors face.” As Dylan puts this

Well, they'll stone you when you're trying to be so good.
They'll stone you just like they said they would.
They'll stone you when you're trying to go home.
And they'll stone you when you're there all alone.
But I would not feel so all alone.
Everybody must get stoned.

And there it is. Pastors can be ostracized, opposed, and fired for speaking honestly and loving charitably. For trying to be good. Some, like Stephen in Acts, are literally stoned, and others metaphorically, but all of these are our people. Inevitably everybody, every pastor, must get stoned. We should not feel so all alone.

Rainy day thinking is honest like this. But it’s not unhopeful. The sun will come out, Annie tells us, and she’s right. But while the rain falls, I want to encourage conversation that will help us all navigate the days before us.

And so next week we will release the first of what I hope will be many “Rainy Day Conversations around Greatheart’s Table.” In this one we will look at the unique role filled by pastors’ spouses. I talk with three pastors’ wives who are sensitive both to the challenges that are inherent in that role, but also it’s power. They have things to say that both men and women, in and out of ministry need to hear. I’m really excited about this. 

Head over to Apple Podcasts or to Spotify and follow Greatheart’s Table there so that you won’t miss out. I hope this helps you find your people, your people of grace.

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I’ve created a “Rainy Day Conversations around Greatheart’s Table” playlist of songs alluded to in this post. Feel free to suggest additions!