The views expressed in this article are of the author only and do not necessarily represent those of the Center for Pastor Theologians.
When Eric Peterson became the pastor of a brand-new church, he quickly turned to his dad for guidance. As a result, pastor, scholar, poet, and author of more than thirty books, Eugene Peterson, began writing letters to his son reflecting on pastoral ministry in all its complexity.
In one letter written on November 11, 2001, Peterson shared his experience as a retired pastor living in the aftermath of 9/11:
Our own pastor, W____, who I respect immensely, and who could never be accused of being superficial or silly, still has absolutely no sensitivity to what is going on in his parishioners’ lives right now. Since the first Sunday after September 11, he has not mentioned even one time the world conditions which dominate the imaginations of most of his congregation. Not once. It is as if nothing in the newspaper or on television requires any reorientation in the world of the gospel and the Kingdom of God. We have parents and grandparents in our congregation whose kids and grandkids have been mobilized and sent off with their reserve units. Not a word in the prayers. There is a way to interpret this that is positive—that the Kingdom is so much more present and real that we don’t need to even give the world the time of day or a nod of recognition. But I’m not sure that that is very pastoral. Maybe the terrorists as such don’t require that much gospel attention, but terrorized souls certainly do.
Here Peterson highlights a significant role of the pastor that is all-too easy to neglect: a bringer of hope.
It’s been noted by many that the actual pastoral job description is almost impossible. In addition to being a leader, preacher, consoler, ad-hoc counselor, public intellectual, volunteer and staff coordinator, board director, among many others, our calling to become bearers of hope can become lost. But as Peterson points out, it is a crucial pastoral responsibility.
Shauna Springer, one of the nation's leading experts on PTSD and trauma, has pointed out that COVID-19 has been like 9/11 in its traumatic effects. According to Springer, both 9/11 and COVID-19 are now considered “mass trauma events.”
But this is no news to pastors.
Not only do we sense this as we care for people, but we ourselves feel it. I recently heard pastor and author Rich Villodas quip that our bodies are “major prophets” rather than minor ones, and as we listen to our bodies, it is easy to conclude that the stress, anxiety, and turmoil of the last few years have taken its toll.
From the 2020 presidential election to January 6th, 2021, from the #metoo and resulting #churchtoo movements to the racial hostility, from the recent Dobbs decision to the many scandals that have plagued evangelicalism in recent times, there has been much to navigate and speak to as pastors. To put it another way, there has been much hopelessness to address.
As a result, some pastors today may doubt whether Peterson’s advice is even possible in today’s landscape. Even a decade ago, things at least seemed less complex than they are today. Or at the very least, life felt less volatile and unpredictable. Today, it seems, ministry is more exhausting and difficult than it ever has been.
And yet, we are called to bring and bear true hope to those who God has entrusted to us to love and care for. Many people are searching for something to trust in—to give them hope. Those who have trusted in political power, have by-and-large been disappointed. Those who have trusted in the idea of universal progress, too, have been disappointed. We have continued to recognize that progression in knowledge has not meant progression in justice or ethical uprightness.
So, people in our churches are asking themselves and others, whether explicitly or implicitly: in what and who do we hope?
According to the writer of Hebrews, Jesus is “a better hope” (7:19).
Why? Because he is the only one capable of bringing about hope in an absolute sense.
As the 20th-century theologian Emil Brunner argued “faith is the origin of hope.” For the Christian, the reason we have hope for the future, is because we have faith in what God has done in-and-through Jesus Christ in the historical past and continues to appropriate through the Spirit in the present. Our hope, then, is rooted in the eternal God who has come, is alive today, and will one day sum up all things in Christ.
Therefore, pastors are bringers of hope when we address contemporary concerns through the lens of Jesus Christ.
Martin Luther has a good translation of Jesus’ saying in John 16:33: “In the world you have anxiety. But be confident, I have overcome the world.” As we trust in Jesus, God, who is the source of hope, will fill us with joy and peace (Rom 15:13).
As Catholic theologian Karl Rahner has stated, hope should be natural for Christians since Jesus enacted “the irreversible beginning of the coming of God as the absolute future of the universe.”
I am convinced that pastors must speak directly to the hopelessness our people carry into our churches. But I believe we do it not as ecclesiastical cheerleaders, but as preachers, liturgists, and servant-leaders. We speak, act, and serve in hope. And as we do, we provide a hopeful vision for living.
The truth of the matter is hopeless people lack vision. They look at the future based on the present. But as pastors, we are called to remind Christians that we live in the future by hope in the redemption of the world on the ground of faith’s knowledge of what God has done, is doing, and will do.
This is the gospel’s way of helping us imagine a future beyond the present upheaval. This is the kind of hope that inspired Augustine to see the city of God, still on its journey, after the city of Rome was in ashes. And this is the same hope that will allow us and our flock to live actively in God’s mission, embodying the love and justice of God in a hate-filled and unjust time.
Andrew Williams is the Executive Pastor at Church on the Hill in Fisherville, VA. He hold a PhD in Theology at Bangor University. Andrew is the author of Washed in the Spirit: Toward a Pentecostal Theology of Water Baptism and Boundless Love: A Companion to Clark A. Pinnock’s Theology. He is a member of the St. Basil Fellowship of the Center for Pastor Theologians.
