What a Young Pastor Hears When You Talk About Bivocational Ministry

When you talk about bivocational ministry, what I hear is:

We don’t value you.

The church's way of saying – figure it out on your own. Oh, and good luck with that. Click To Tweet

Put your money where your mouth is

Most of us were raised with the idea that value comes from financial worth. We’re taught that CEOs are worth more than janitors and working women are worth less than men because sometimes they have babies and want some time to care for them. Which also means that babies are pretty much worthless.

Then we come to church and we hear Jesus say

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

So we have to assume that no one’s heart is in church.

Just trying to help…sort of

I went to a conference two years ago that was full of clergy under 40. Not only were we all around the same age, it meant none of us were at it for 30 years.

When we got to talking about money and the future of the church, we were told that the parachurch body (The Episcopal Church) was pretty much resigned to the fact that full-time clergy in single parishes is a thing of the past.

So…you need to start getting new skills.

<pause>

Wait.

Someone took the bait.

You’re saying that we will all need to be bivocational?

<pause>

Yes. So it will be prudent to develop a new set of skills so that you can be more marketable and able to serve long enough to get your 30 years.

So we spent this time in seminary, going into debt, developing this specific set of skills to do this work we were called to do, relocating our families, some of us giving up jobs to pursue this thing, and now we have to go back to grad school on our own dime so we can do something in addition to this?

Well…

Some of us have only done this.

This is what I’m good at.

The church helped pay for our peers’ seminary, but we had to pay our own and now we have to go back again?

What is the church doing to help us?

Are you saying this to the over-40 group?

What was the point of seminary if there is no chance?

And some of us really do want to explore bivocational ministry. But this is a warning that we’ll all be going this way — that budgets will be balanced on our backs alone — that we are the problem and that we are the solution. That we will have to take the hit for all. Alone. Without the support or the sense that we’ll all be in this together.

It sounds more like figure it out on your own. Oh, and good luck with that.

Work harder…now with 2 vocations!

I already feel as if, to do my work well, I need to spend

20 hours in goal-setting, vision casting, staffing, and vestry leadership
20 hours in communication, evangelism, and marketing
20 hours in visiting, spiritual discernment, mentoring, and discipleship
20 hours in preparing sermons and liturgy and in leading worship

all in one week. Somehow making 20×4 into 40.

And the church will want me to make that into 20. Oh, and pay me less for it.

And still have all the things

When we moved, my spouse had to leave her job. Just like she left one the last time we moved. And the time before.

They love that we have kids, except that we can’t afford babysitters.

And we don’t have savings and can’t buy a house, but somehow we’ll need to. On that 20 hours.

I guess that’s what that “real” job is for.

But what I really hear is

Love us more than we love you.

Support us more than we support you.

Give more of yourself than we are willing to give to you.

Because you should want to serve and we

the church writ large
our dioceses and presbyteries and our national assemblies

we don’t have to serve you anymore.

Times are too tough to keep our promises.

And man, this following Jesus thing is really hard.

And we stare back and say

tell me about it.

17 responses

Dr_(Fr-to-be?)_K

May 19, 2016

And those of us “transitioning” from a primary ministry, er, um, profession, into the ordained ministry ? To become bi-vocational? And support for the 55 year old has heard the “call” ? The ministry of all believers is a very cute phrase but, I ask respectfully, does the leadership of this church know the whats,wheres,hows and whys? If so, can someone let ME know?

Reply
1. Drew Downs
  
  May 19, 2016
  
  I think there’s a fight for first in line to find out.
  
  Reply
Clare Nesmith

May 19, 2016

Abso-damn-lutely. You are so right. And it hurts. It really hurts.

Reply
reubenlillie

May 20, 2016

Drew, I came by your post through a Facebook group of fellow Nazarene ministers who are talking about missional living in our modern contexts.

My response is directed toward the conversations that have stemmed from members of that group, but I also want to be fair to you by letting the post’s original author in on the impact of his writing.

Rather than tailor my original reply for your thread, I’m copying it here as is (with a name change of a person I mention). Please know that I find your concerns are valid even though I struggle to share some of them.

Here’s what you made me think about when discussing your post with some of my denominational colleagues amid some of our other conversations:

“This article makes me anxious.

Personal testimony:

I am the son of a covocational pastor (please don’t hyphenate it, that dashed line undermines the singularity of purpose).

I have been a licensed minister since I was 15 (turning 29 this summer).

I have never, not once, been on a congregation’s payroll. I have always felt called to covocational ministry (since age 11, that is).

I have an undergraduate (BM, Olivet Nazarene University) and graduate degree (MM, Roosevelt University) in music performance, and I considered every class, rehearsal, concert, and so forth part of my calling and ministerial education. Now, as a self-employed independent contractor I consider every job I take a short-term mission trip (in the best sense) as much as I consider it as a means for income. (So far, two churches have been planted as a result of these ‘missionary journeys’.) News flash: this career path is not lucrative.

I graduated two weeks ago with my Master of Divinity from one of the seminaries in my neighborhood (McCormick Theological Seminary). It is a school I chose because it is on the Southside of Chicago, highly diverse, in our neighborhood (Hyde Park), and allowed me to cross-enroll at each of the four other theological schools here—a neighborhood a block and a half from where Chicago First Church of the Nazarene was founded in 1904 and where the CotN has not had a congregational presence save from a now disorganized congregation of color who met in a store front for a few months from 1947—48 (Chicago Friendly CotN). My wife and I are pouring our lives into the urban mission field that is our home, surrounded by Chicago’s most needy citizens and miles from the nearest Nazarene clergy—even though the site of the first General Assembly of the Church of the Nazarene is down the street. Until we moved here, Hyde Park was a place Nazarenes commuted to for their own educational advancement (many, admittedly, already assigned to an existing congregation or parachurch organization), for world-class medical care, and for tourism (the lakefront, UChicago, a dozen museums, etc.). We’re prayerfully trying to make this a place where Nazarenes and other Christian outsiders would feel compelled to make more two-way ecclesiological investments—a missional destination rather than solely a tourist destination. In the meantime, we’re sold out to making Christlike disciples with our neighbors who are already here, instead of necessarily recruiting larger numbers of outsiders to colonize this place.

Our organic missional network (Reach77) has been built on a covocational model that focuses exclusively on discipleship relationships in our neighborhoods. We are all covocational—laity and clergy alike. We do not have salaries. We do not submit reimbursement forms. We do not have property. We are just now entering the process of purchasing property, but as transitional housing for victims of human trafficking—not weekly theatrical productions. To me, THIS is liturgy: the work of the people.

The main reasons we have elected not to be paid out of our tithes and offerings are (a) to eliminate overhead, freeing us up 100% for other mission expenditures (apportiontments—which are not compulsory for Church-type Missions—and Acts 4-style benevolence); and (b) to blur the lines between normative Christian responsibility and institutional job descriptions.

When I read this article, I feel the pain of people (my friends, classmates, and colleagues, people like Drew) who don’t necessarily have this strong sense of calling to ACTUAL covocational ministry In talking about here (as opposed to some ‘tent-making’-styles of supplemental income we might more rightly call bi-vocational, splitting people into pieces).

At the same time, my knee jerk reaction (forgive me) is to say something along the lines of ‘get over it.’

Living on mission is costly. And, as much as I don’t want to muzzle oxen (or become one, cf. 1 Cor 9:9; 1 Tim 5:8), I have trouble abiding ecclesiological models that have turned monetary compensation into a bargaining chip for making ‘full-time ministry’ a designated person’s job on a ledger. I don’t doubt that clerics should (and will need to on occasion) somehow benefit from our benevolence funds—our store housing tithes and other communal assets. However, passing my 14-year mark (or 18, if you start with the call rather than the earliest age to be eligible for a license) with a lot of student debt and not a lot of monetary recompense, I am weary of watching my sisters and brothers who are more attached to/entrenched in salary-driven, edifice-based, attractional models ‘steal the lime light’ in their alleged misfortune, being ‘over-educated’ without being ‘gainfully’ skilled.

My entire life and my entire family’s lives have largely been dedicated to full-time ‘volunteer’ ministry–as clergy family. Yet, somehow our needs have been provided for and we have witnessed God’s increase in the truest sense.

It doesn’t always feel easy, but it’s worth it. It’s not being ‘brave’ or tritely ‘sacrificial’; it’s being obedient.

Jesus’ disciples were trades workers (OK, Matthew/Levi was a tax collector—the popular guy). Many of them were convicted felons and/or martyrs.

And still, as the Daily Office for today reminds us, Jesus calls this ‘yoke’ easy and this ‘burden’ light (Matt 11:29–30).

Yes, we should plan well and especially be sure we are not taking advantage of our leaders who have given so much to ensure the harvest field’s produce. (Sometimes I wish I had even a nominal wage just so I could qualify for partial federal student loan forgiveness.) But, shame on me or any of us if we become preoccupied with planning for the solvency of our preferred institutional framework.

We should first pity the orphan, the widow, the homeless person eating garbage from my dumpster (his name is Ted) before we bemoan the sorry state of church finances that have vainly tried to sustain venture-capital architectural programs and staff multi-generational babysitters.

Buildings aren’t bad. Salaries aren’t bad. Paying leaders isn’t bad. But I dare you to pray and watch what God can do without those things. (Something akin to Jesus’ words to the rich man in, Matt 19:16–22.) At least pray for us and our neighbors here as we do.

‘You get what you pay for.’ Do we want a financially strapped church, or a mission a herald can run with (Hab 2:2–3)? That’s why (for now) we only fund missional action items that reach beyond our assumed institutional roles (Acts 4:32–37).”

Let’s do better.

Reply
1. Drew Downs
  
  May 20, 2016
  
  Great response! Thank you!
  
  In the last decade of ministry, I personally have struggled with my own call to a ministry which would come at great personal sacrifice against more traditional denominational options. Life choices and safety has certainly guided my direction more than I’d like to admit.
  
  And though I wrote from a personal perspective my hope was to communicate that while I am not alone, many of my peers likely feel alone in ministry, particularly in these traditional contexts in which more people are buried than baptized each year. And more to the point, that I have sacrificed, willingly and often for my vocation, as have my family. But it seems that in our system, all credit/blame and much of the stress and pain is borne by the pastor. And while I did sign up for this deal, I think that every second we maintain such a codependent relationship with our church and our church to us is a second we reinforce an unhealthy community.
  
  And I would love to explore covocational models of ministry for what it’s worth. Our institutional body is only now embracing such ideas and struggling to endorse and support.
  
  Reply
  1. reubenlillie
    
    May 20, 2016
    
    And how!
    
    We’re still new-ish at this too. And we still struggle to a degree with official forms of support in terms of infrastructure, endorsement, legitimacy, and prioritizing such missional initiatives alongside the other administrative spinning plates. But we now have very affirming leaders (they love that we actually work for free and pay our budgets!) and a world-wide network of prayer partners—and that’s more than we could ever ask.
    
    For us, we didn’t wait for leadersips’ permission to answer the call to live the way we do. We didn’t even ask for their blessing. We didn’t ask anyone to come with us. But we also didn’t leave them in the dust either. We’ve been bold, even reckless. It hasn’t always been pretty. But, Oh! We’re witnessing profound transformation that serves as its own humbling evidence and motivation for this sort work—at any cost. We’re doing basic things any Christian anywhere can and should do, and we don’t expect a dime for the more clerical leadership- and locally-specific services we also try to provide in our communities. This kind of prayerful abandon to institutional hierarchy cannot go unnoticed by the bodies that license and ordain us. Actions speak. It’s a brush fire worth starting.
    
    Bless you and your episcopy as you pray about better occupying yourselves in your vocation with your neighbors—however many different ways it manifests itself among you.
    
    From one young minister-type to another. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
    
    Reply
Lynn

May 20, 2016

But here’s the deal. Is it the institutional church that has put us here, or the folks in the pews? I think I would rather lead a handful who really wanted to learn the Way than a barnful who are scrambling to save a building they fondly hold and a day they fondly remember. Scary? Yes. As a late vocation I near retirement finances with some fear. That said, COMs need to help those in discernment carefully assess the situation. Piles of debt are simply not an option that we should offer to anyone.

Reply
1. Drew Downs
  
  May 20, 2016
  
  I couldn’t agree more.
  
  Reply
David

May 20, 2016

http://seminaryinacan.blogspot.com/2014/05/4-reasons-why-bi-vocational-ministry.html

I’ve been bi-vocational for six years now. It is not the answer.

Reply
Dennis Maher

May 20, 2016

The problem here is considering ministry in the context of church. As long as we do this it really doesn’t work well. I did know a Presbyterian minister who parlayed his part time college job into a very well paid full time career, while serving a congregation as a part time assistant. I know an Episcopalian priest who is part time and able to do it because he runs a hearing aid business. But for most it will not work well and it will always be unfair as long as there are full-time ministers relativelly well-paid by the church. I am retired from full-time ministry. I tried to get out several times and failed. I went to seminary to figure out how to be a Christian in the world. By the time I graduated I realized that I had failed in this because now I would be a professional Christian.

Reply
Rev. Thomas Anderson, MSJ

May 21, 2016

I’ve been Bi-Vocational for 27 years and survived by working hard to make sure that every task aside from the sacramental roles are fully in the hands of the laity. With a healthy ministry, a fully debt-free church property, and a generous housing allowance, the only worry is: where can I ever find someone to replace me? Bi-vocational ministry is a special calling indeed.

Reply
1. Fr. Thomas Anderson MSJ
  
  September 9, 2016
  
  I’m in the same position after twenty-four years. I had a long talk with my bishop a a few colleagues a couple of weeks ago about my replacement in coming years, and there are a lot of blank stares and a long period of awkward silence. Our homeless shelter ministry owns its property and is community supported, but it does not provide a salary and I have quietly been “ok” with that, probably to the overall harm of the future of the ministry and the congregation that has grown up around it. The Church is at a loss for how to sustain such ministries beyond the call of the original founding. What next?
  
  Reply
  1. Drew Downs
    
    September 9, 2016
    
    That is indeed the question, isn’t it? Something’s got to give.
    
    Thank you for your comment and your ministry!
    
    Reply
Grace

May 21, 2016

Since we are a parish with out a full time priest, I am reading all of this with great interest. Thank you all.

Reply
Phillip

May 21, 2016

This article is kind of ridiculous. This is a calling that you should be willing to run at with all your heart soul and mind. It basically says, “you ordained me, now pay me.” Bivocational ministry does work. Now the church has failed in resources for those in this world, I will agree to that. Yet, if done correctly it will set you and your church on fire for the Gospel.

Reply
1. Drew Downs
  
  May 21, 2016
  
  Thanks for the comment, Phillip! Of course it’s ridiculous.
  
  It was also written as an “I Statement” as in “This is how I feel when you…” and I tried to express how I (and many of my friends) feel when someone with little current skin in the game wants us to make a choice for ourselves which will primarily only effect us and our successors, but will require much less sacrifice from the other parties involved. What I’ve observed in my life and my father’s life (he is a priest as well) is that we have a tendency to sacrifice first – as in we are often the ones to take the hit in every situation. I suppose part of that is the vocation, but it is also bad teaching for those around us, for rarely have I seen such sacrifice teach sacrifice to the congregation, but the opposite: that sacrifice is for the clergy and not the laity. I’m not sure it was your intention, but I heard your comment as a “suck it up–that’s part of the deal” which can be both true and wrong at the same time, for my sucking up may lead to greater dysfunction. Again, in my personal experience.
  
  The bigger point was to say that a system which best reflects Christ’s teaching would be one in which we all share responsibility. This is not a repudiation (or even a comment at all) on the effectiveness of bivocational ministry, but instead on the simple idea that the status quo can be maintained, or that bivocational ministry is not a very different vocational arrangement, but simply an economic decision. If treated only as an economic and not a vocational discernment for a pastor and a parish, the success of future pastoral relationships may be harmed.
  
  Reply
Jonnee Western

May 11, 2017

Well, bivocational ministry is sort of what I hear the laity is being asked to do. In addition to holding full time jobs, we are being asked to devote absolutely every other minute to being a member of the church. So, forget about walking your dog’s in the evenings; a social life outside of church, but which may also be required by your professional duties, not mention conferences to acquire CEUs required by state licensing agencies to maintain our licenses to continue working to support our families, especially working enough hours to acrue health insurance. There are nights for choir practices, nights for bible study, &/or book studies without time for discussion on how to apply the ideas to the living of a truly Christian life. I would love to go to seminary and learn the stuff clergy have learned to do, but how do I pay for it, when I need to work for medical insurance, opportunities for my children to explore other avenues of expressing themselves outside of school? Watch t.v.? What’s that? I have so many recorded shows I would like to watch, but don’t, because the latest book for book study group sounds so interesting. Playing an instrument in a fun band, includes rehearsals, commaraderie. I would like to expand & continue the sort of bible study that I used to do, picking apart texts & trying to understand the historical context, so I might be able to understand what this conversation with the Divinity is all about & how it applies to me. Doing all of this rarely includes a sense of belonging to a community that interacts socially with one another, especially since my partner is an avowed atheist. What about “daily” prayer time. Time for contemplative prayer, other ways of meditation, such as using mandalas , blah, blah, blah. We all have to make choices. But I don’t get reimbursed in any way by anyone else for all these activities. Oh! And then there is the call to minister to those who are deeply in more stress than I am. Where do I find the time to really be a Christian, to help those less fortunate than I?
I do not mean my comment to be a “suck it up, buster, this is what you knew you were getting into,” sort of response. I mean to say we are all being asked to be Christians in our lives. Lead lives based on love, not economics, but I really believe that the current model of being a professional Christian as a church pastor is not teaching the rest of the congregation how to live their lives as I believe Jesus, Divinity Incarnate, was trying to teach. I believe that bivocational ministry is the only way we who truly want to live as much of a Christian life can be. Maybe, we should all consider the idea of bivocational lives?

Reply