When I tell people we bought the old Tucker farm, I
feel like Mr. Douglas when he moved to Hooterville and bought the old
Haney place. I am a city boy who recently moved my family to a small,
five-acre "farm" a couple of miles outside of the horse capital of the
world, Lexington, Kentucky. We have two fenced pastures, a four-stall
barn and a dog kennel. I am now a real farmer. Or am I?
Let me paint the picture. I live in the country.
Our house is on a farm. We have a barn. Our neighbors have horses. I
remove road kill from the front yard. I frequent the local Farm Supply
in Nicholasville, the small town down the road. My mail box is bolted to
a huge wooden post across the road. I recruited my
nephew to be my “farm manager.” His job is to pick up rocks and use the
weed eater around the fence posts. With all that said, I must be a
farmer. Right?
There is one small glitch.
I do not actually own any livestock, unless you
count my chocolate lab, Cookie or my cat, Bob. Neither of which
contribute much to my quality of life. I have no horses, no chickens and
positively no cows. My twelve year old daughter is pressing me to buy a
pig but I cannot see that happening soon. What about crops, you ask?
I do not grow any crops either. No corn. No soy
bean. No tobacco. (That is the big cash crop here in Kentucky.) Nothing,
except grass. I have lots and lots of grass. I have two kinds of
weekends: Kidz Blitz events and mowing. That must be it. I am a grass
farmer. If they ever figure out how to convert grass clippings into
gasoline, I will become the Kentucky equivalent to an Arab sheik
overnight. But I do not have any cash crops. None.
With no livestock and no crops you might be asking
this question. Roger, can you call yourself a farmer? Easy. I acquired
the title by virtue of the fact I live on a farm. Living on a farm makes
me a farmer. Or does it? Is it really that important whether or not I
actually raise or grow anything? The environment makes the designation.
Right? That seems to be the way we approach ministry.
Is a children’s pastor one who oversees the
children’s ministry department in the church or one who produces
something in the lives of kids? Do you actually have to spiritually grow
something in children? Is it enough to run the department? Running the
department is hard work. It takes creativity, people skills,
organizational abilities and much more. Likewise, I work hard every
weekend I am home on the farm. I mow, rake, trim and more.
Okay, you got me. I am not really a farmer. I am a
city boy who oversees a very small farm. To be a real farmer you have to
raise or grow something. I do neither.
Being a children’s pastor is about more than
running the department. It is about raising and growing something in the
lives of boys and girls. It is about the end result, not the process.
The question should always be: what are we growing
inside of kids? What are we planting in them? If nothing ever grows,
then it may not be ministry. It may look like ministry. But if we do not
grow anything, it may be little more than religious activity.
This is one reason we launched the
Octane ’07 Conference. We
want to help children’s pastors energize their children’s ministries by
teaching them how to grow faith in the lives of kids. There is a
difference between methods and outcome. Teaching and organizational
methods are important but outcome is what energizes. When something
changes inside of a child because you planted a God idea in him, energy
happens. Kids see more clearly what God is like. Parents begin to value
what you are doing. Workers become committed.
One day I may get a chicken or a pig or maybe even
a cow. I might even try to grow something. Until then I will resist the
urge to saunter into the Nicholasville Farm Supply as if I were Ben
Cartwright buying feed for the herd on the north forty. I will try to
remember that farming, like ministry, is about producing something.
