Counseling is a responsibility of pastors. Or so many would say. I have talked with friends who commonly meet with parishioners to listen to their struggles, whether they be emotional, spiritual, physical, relational, financial, or otherwise, and after listening they strive to then offer a word of wisdom, a bit of encouragement, or glimmer of hope. Maybe they just offer presence. One of my friends, Nicole, has sought to ask herself how she offers Christ to each person with whom she meets. There is much to be commended in this posture.
This week, during my time away at the Renvoare’ Conference, I heard from Chris Webb. Chris relayed a story of his time as an Anglican parish priest, in which a woman came to him to discuss the horrible end to her marriage–a terrible, ugly divorce. She described how the relationship had deteriorated, how she had been destroyed by the actions of her husband, and how she was angry. Before Chris could speak, she told him that she already knew what he was going to tell her to do. She surmised that he was going to tell her to forgive. She told him that she could not.
His reply surprised her. He said, “I wasn’t going to tell you that, though I can see why that might have been your supposition.” He continued, “I cannot help you to forgive,” he told her, “but as an Anglican priest I took vows to help you to pray.” He explained to his hearers, “I did not take vows to offer counseling, but to teach people to pray.”
His next word of pastoral advice took her further by surprise. He said, “Do you wish that your husband would die?” She said, “Yes.” He said, “pray that.” She said, “What?” He said, “Yes, I want you to pray that he should die.”
Chris then pointed to Psalm 55, a Psalm of David, a man after God’s own heart. Beginning in verse 12, the Psalm reads, “If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were raising himself against me, I could hide from him. But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship as we walked with the throng at the house of my God. Let death take my enemies by surprise; let them go down alive to the grave, for evil finds their lodging among them.”
This surprises us, of course. But Chris challenged his hearers by saying that David was radically honest with God. He told the truth about himself. And God could handle it. After seeing the woman who had suffered so greatly at the hands of another once some time had passed, Chris asked her how things were going. She said she was still in prayer, but she doesn’t pray Psalm 55 anymore. God had been working on her heart. Those words no longer fit her emotions. God had been at work healing her in the midst of her honesty.
There is a lesson for us there, for our own prayer lives and for our ministries. Do we offer people counsel, or do we teach them to pray? May we be those, like David, who are radically honest in our conversations with God, even when what we find there is unattractive, ugly, repulsive. May we face our heartache, our pain, our hurt, our shortcomings, our sufferings, and be truthful to the one who is the Truth.
Ben, Thank you for sharing so much of what you learned at the conference. It sounds like it was a fantastic, spirit-filled conference.
Kevin
That’s brilliant. Thanks.
Teaching people to pray. I like it. Great perspective. Thank you.
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The glib statement “I don’t counsel people. I teach them to pray,” is a professional cop-out. Even in the life of David Scripture demonstrates his trust of and the critical role played by those to whom he turned for counsel. This is not to advocate for the devaluing prayer in the name of reliance on mere human instrumentality. But pastoral ministry is more than just simply telling someone to pray about their problems.
You are right. But telling people to pray, and then continuing the conversation, allows God to lead both parties to share in true wisdom. There is such thing as counseling that does not lead into the presence of the Lord. Your point is well taken, but I think you have taken this parable to represent a false dichotomy (prayer vs. counseling), which I am not attempting to present. You’ll notice that in the story the relationship between priest and parishioner is ongoing, and it is undeniable that instructing someone to pray the Psalms is a form of counsel. I would hope that in all your counsel, you would be leading all people into a deeper life of prayer and reliance on God.
When I’m dealing with a problem, and going round and round with it, talking with Joyce (my wife) about it — she’ll often say, “Have you prayed about it?” My joking response usually is, “Pray about it? Why would I pray about it? I’m just a preacher. Why should I pray?” And of course, then we laugh about the irony of a pastor forgetting to pray.
What a lovely concept, and how much a part of my original pastoral call it is — to teach people (myself first) to pray. If, in God’s presence, they (we) can speak their heart and ask questions and be silent and listen — wow!
Yes, we will still need a counselor now and then. But to learn to pray. That is a gift!
What a great shift in perspective. I remember in seminary that we talked about “pre-marriage counseling” before officiating weddings, and there was a big discussion whether we are counseling or preparing. The bottom line is that most of us take one semester of pastoral care in seminary and then get sent out to be present with people who are hurting badly. I am amazed sometimes at the pain that people are carrying around, that no one else knows. I am amazed at the honesty that people have when they pour out deep pain or grief to me in my office. I often feel inadequate in “helping” but I work to remember that I’m a pastor, not a psychologist and while a certain amount of counsel is involved, it takes a particular form in the pastoral call. Thanks for the spark!
[...] I want to always be able to say, “I do not counsel people. I teach them to pray.” [...]