The Heart Of God And Preparation Of The Pastor

By Michael J. Anthony

[This is the second article in the four-part series “The Heart of God,” delivered as the W. H. Griffith Thomas lectures at Dallas Theological Seminary, February 6–9, 2018.]

[Michael J. Anthony is research professor of Christian education at Talbot School of Theology, La Mirada, California.]

Introduction

The previous article examined an important element of our relationship with God: his heart. That brief exploration revealed that verses referencing God’s heart might be speaking of different things. Sometimes it refers to an emotion—such as his regret in making Saul king over the nation of Israel. More often than not, it refers to his determination and desire. I referenced Hans Wolff’s excellent Anthropology of the Old Testament, where in one chapter he summarizes twenty-six Old Testament passages referring to God’s heart by saying, “They generally attest to His steadfast will and His longing desire—usually in regards to His plans for the future to which His whole will is completely committed.”[1]

This article turns its attention to the heart of God as it pertains to the preparation of his servants—in our case, ministry leaders. I have chosen to divide this presentation into three sections: The Whisper of His Invitation, His Calling to Service, and finally, a more challenging section, The Paradox of Preparation.

The Whisper Of His Invitation

In the first days of recorded history we read of God’s intimate journey with mankind. Both Adam and Eve, made in the very image of their eternal Creator, enjoyed regular fellowship with God. We know from Genesis 1:31 that at the end of the sixth day, God pronounced his work “very good.” The condition of Eden was marked by unity with its Creator, harmony among all created beings, and a state of tranquility. Adam was invited into fellowship with God and given a job with meaning and purpose. It appears that God walked with Adam, conversed with him as with a friend, and allowed Adam a certain degree of autonomy and authority over creation.

In Genesis 3:8 we read that after Adam and Eve’s fall they heard the voice of the Lord God “walking in the garden in the cool of the day”—literally, “the wind of the day,”[2] presumably the evening hours when the late afternoon wind cooled the earth from the sweltering heat of the noonday sun. Knowing of their fallen state, God invited Adam and Eve into renewed fellowship with himself. God did not yell, scream, or roar at them. Instead, he gently called out to them to return into his presence.

Several commentary authors speak of God’s approach as a booming declaration, an almost terrifying display of fire, thunder, and lightning. I don’t believe this was the case. I believe the gentle wind of his approach would more likely have been characterized by a whisper, a calling out from a heart of compassion and care. One commentary author writes, “He came to convince and humble, not amaze and terrify them.”[3] As Paul asks in Romans, “Do you think lightly of the riches of His kindness and tolerance and patience, not knowing that the kindness of God leads you to repentance?” (2:4).

Likewise, Scripture does not specify any explicit amount of time that the call to conversion involves. Surely conversion came rather immediately to those who attended Pentecost, which was in all likelihood the first time they had heard the gospel message presented. However, for some people conversion involves more of a process. This is probably the case when we examine the conversion of Nicodemus in John 3 cross-referenced with 19:39. However, a far more dramatic set of circumstances surrounds Saul of Tarsus’s conversion experience, which is associated with a voice from heaven and three days of blindness (Acts 9:4–7, 9, 17–18). Yet we see a few chapters later that Lydia’s call to conversion was calm and simple in nature. We read that “the Lord opened her heart to give heed to what was said by Paul” (16:14). Yet again, in the same chapter, we read the account of the Philippian jailer, who still trembling in fear from the recent earthquake cried out, “What must I do to be saved?” (v. 30). Though the conversion experiences of these individuals are vastly different, they all yield the same end result.[4]

While discussing dramatic evangelistic methods used by nineteenth-century country circuit riders, who employed passionate appeals to conversion in tent meetings, Erickson writes, “Although God frequently does work with individuals in this way, differences in personality type, background, and immediate circumstances may result in a very different type of conversion. It is important not to insist that the incidents or external factors of conversion be identical for everyone.”[5]

More often than not today, God’s first call in the life of a ministry leader is a gentle whisper of invitation to repentance. It is an invitation that leads us by way of humility to the foot of the cross in a spirit of contrition. It is reminiscent of the invitation that Samuel received from God in the stillness of the night in 1 Samuel 3 where through patience, gentleness, and forbearance, God invited Samuel into a relationship with himself. It was neither terrifying nor alarming. Once Samuel realized the source of the invitation, he responded, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

This initial invitation to repentance that all ministry leaders must first accept is foundational to any subsequent calling to vocational service. For without this first call, there can be no second. Since we know it is God’s will that no one should perish (2 Pet 3:9), we know that it is within his heart’s desire for mankind to repent and initiate a personal relationship with their Creator.

His Calling To Service

We can all agree, when reading through the pages of Scripture with an eye toward understanding how God calls his servants into service, that God is anything but regimented. It would be ignorant and naive to believe that God has a prescriptive template when it comes to his calling.

Abraham’s call is found in the twelfth chapter of Genesis, where we read, “Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go forth from your country, and from your relatives and from your father’s house, to the land which I will show you; and I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great; and so you shall be a blessing; and I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth will be blessed’ ” (vv. 1–2). Notice that there is no fire from the heavens, thunder, lightning, or even dramatic special effects, just a simple command to leave his homeland and venture into the unknown.

Moses, on the other hand, received a call from God in the form of a burning bush and a wooden staff that transformed into a serpent. At one point, God used Moses’s own hand as an object lesson when it became “leprous like snow” and was then miraculously healed. In spite of five objections, Moses accepted the call and proceeded to Egypt to fulfill God’s kingdom purposes for his life. It is interesting to note how much change took place in Moses’s life over forty years. Where once he was only too eager to offer himself as a self-styled deliverer, now he is timid, unsure of himself, and keenly aware of his own defects.[6]

Joshua was called when Moses was commanded to lay hands on him before the priest Eleazar in the public assembly for the entire nation to witness (Num 27:18). By contrast, Gideon encountered an angel sitting alone at the base of an oak tree (Judg 6:11). He was busy beating out wheat to hide from the Midianites when an angel called him to serve as Israel’s next judge. In spite of Gideon’s objections that he was from the tribe of Manasseh and the youngest in his family, the Lord persisted and assured him of his provisions and protection for the assignment that lay ahead.

David’s call was unique as well. Pulled out from watching his father’s sheep by Samuel the prophet, he was anointed with a horn of oil in front of his older siblings. “We don’t know how old David was at this time. The ancient Jewish historian Josephus says that David was ten years old. Others guess he was about fifteen years old. It’s safe to say he was in that range.”[7] What is unique in David’s call to service is his lack of credentials. He had no formal education, military accolades (at the time), no civic experience, and little, if any, theological schooling. Evidently he played the harp.

Due to the gaps in the biblical narrative, we don’t know where he developed the kind of character that is described by God in Acts 13:22 as “a man after my own heart; who will do everything I want him to do.” Twice in the Psalms David speaks of his mother as a “maidservant of the Lord” (Pss 86:16; 116:16). Perhaps it was his mother who provided the fertile environment for the tenderness of heart that he had toward spiritual matters, much like Timothy’s mother, who poured into him a godly faith (2 Tim 1:5).[8]

As we move along the Old Testament storyline we come across the calling of the prophet Jeremiah. We’re told in the first chapter of his book that his call had been predestined by God prior to his birth. There we read,

Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I have appointed you a prophet to the nations.” Then I said, “Alas, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, because I am a youth.”

But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am a youth,’ because everywhere I send you, you will go, and all that I command you, you will speak. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you,” declares the Lord (Jer 1:4–8).

Only his sovereign Creator knows the reasons for Jeremiah’s call into prophetic ministry. What we know is that Jeremiah was young, inexperienced in oratorical skills, and hesitant to accept what would become a challenging assignment. History tells us that Jeremiah spent his life foretelling the coming demise of the kingdom of Judah and criticizing the reigns of the apostate kings Jehoahaz and Jehoiakim, sons of Josiah, and Jehoiakim’s son Jehoiachin. He is credited with holding the people of Judah together during the exile. During this time we glimpse Jeremiah’s heart as anguished at the condition of Judah in the same way that Hosea’s was toward the earlier state of the idolatrous Northern Kingdom.

Our final character sketch in the Old Testament is that of Ezekiel the priest. “Ezekiel’s long, detailed call narrative covers chapters 1 through 3 with visions and dialogues. The dialogue begins in chapter 2 as a voice speaks from out of the throne room: ‘Son of man, stand upon your feet, and I will speak with you’ (Ezekiel 2:1).”[9] As a priest, Ezekiel would have been responsible for the preparation of the temple sacrifices in Jerusalem—slaughtering animals, butchering them, and roasting their meat. Obviously, there was a spiritual dimension to his role as a moral and spiritual spokesperson of the people.

His priesthood was interrupted when he was taken into exile during the first wave of deportations from Jerusalem in 605 BC. While a captive in Babylon he received his dramatic call. His was a unique calling due to the direct nature of God’s instruction. He knew specifically that he was sent to preach a message to his fellow captives informing them that their captivity would be prolonged and not brief, as held the message coming from the other prophets living in Babylon at that time. Jerusalem would fall and other captives would join them for a lengthy stay. Ezekiel’s message is associated with military symbolism such as chariot wheels (Ezek 1:16), an army (1:24), a throne (1:26), and a sentinel (3:16), but no religious symbols. One commentator writes, “Ezekiel’s call should dispel any notion that calls from God are generally calls away from secular professions and into church ministry.”[10]

As we round the corner of the Old Testament and begin to focus on the manner in which Jesus called his disciples in the New Testament, we discover that each of the disciples had his life interrupted by divine intervention in a unique way. If we use a broader definition of “disciple” beyond that of the Twelve, we find ourselves with three relatively distinctive groupings.

The first group, those who would later be known as his apostles, included middle-class fishermen with their own boats, ser-vants, and stable businesses. Fishing was a primary source of income in Galilee at this period in its history. Levi was a successful and wealthy tax collector (Luke 5:29). Subsequent to their calling, they left behind relative wealth and financial security for the unknowns of vocational ministry (Matt 4:18–22; Mark 1:14–20).

Reading further into the Gospel accounts we come across a second, less prominent yet no less important group of disciples. This group of “stay-at-home supporters” did not travel with Jesus but rather sent their financial support to provide for his material needs. This group included Peter’s mother-in-law (Mark 1:29–34), Lazarus (John 11) and his sisters Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38–42), wealthy men like Joseph of Arimathea (24:50–51), and the wealthy women who Luke tells us “were helping to support them out of their private means” (8:3).

A third group of followers, those at the outer fringes of society, included a wide range of people who were less intimately associated with Jesus but connected nonetheless. This group included the Gadarene demoniac who was told to stay in his region and testify of his healing to his friends and family (Mark 5:18–20), a tax collector by the name of Zacchaeus who was told to turn from his greed but not from his profession (Luke 19), and others such as soldiers.[11]

Probably the most notable calling is that of the Pharisee Saul. Educated at the feet of Gamaliel, the leading Jewish scholar of his day, and a dedicated and devout Jew, his life of ardent opposition to the Christian faith was dramatically interrupted when he was on a journey to Damascus to further his antagonism toward the church. He saw a vision and heard the audible voice of God. He was suddenly struck blind for three days and left to the mercy of a Christian to heal him. This conversion and subsequent call to vocational ministry is a notable exception to those who would follow in his footsteps. It was indeed a unique calling for a man who would have a unique ministry.

While observing these accounts of callings, we do well to note the counterintuitive nature of God’s selection process. Deffinbaugh suggests that we should be concerned about “leadership profiling.” It is a well-known and commonly accepted fact that a disproportionate number of leaders in America are men who are “tall, dark, and handsome,” so to speak. Within the halls of our Christian community, we are profoundly guilty of leadership profiling. How can anyone not come away with this conclusion when we examine the composition of many of our ministries today? The governing boards of church and parachurch organizations are most often white-collar, successful businessmen. When we look for leaders, we give a disproportionate emphasis to education, intelligence, self-confidence, assertiveness, and most of all, success. We might do well to give further thought to God’s choice of David as Israel’s king, and let us not forget the words of the apostle Paul on this matter:[12]

Think about the circumstances of your call, brothers and sisters. Not many were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were members of the upper class. But God chose what the world thinks foolish to shame the wise, and God chose what the world thinks weak to shame the strong. God chose what is low and despised in the world, what is regarded as nothing, to set aside what is regarded as something, so that no one can boast in his presence. He is the reason you have a relationship with Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord’ ” (1 Cor 1:26–31).

In summary, what do we learn of God’s heart in regard to his calling out of his servants? Clearly there is no prescriptive pattern, no one-size-fits-all approach. Likewise, some were already involved in religious activities, while others were farmers, merchants, shepherds, or businessmen. Most were hesitant; some insisted on the partnership of another prior to accepting their calls. In every case, God expected unequivocal obedience to repeat his message, employ his methods, and minister under the provision and protection that he alone would provide. In essence, the heart of God is to obediently do the will of God.

The Paradox Of Preparation

The time has come in this presentation to transition into the final point I’d like to make in understanding the heart of God as it relates to this subject. Once an individual responds to his invitation into conversion and following an acceptance of God’s call toward vocational ministry, there is yet one final element worth exploring. That is the manner in which God trains his messengers. Once again, there is no template to follow, no one-size-fits-all approach. However, that is not to say that there are no common denominators or similarities.

When we think of vocational preparation, our minds go to formal measures such as internships, which are common in the industries of law, medicine, or business. The military has boot camp, where months of physical and mental discipline prepare recruits for the rigors of battle. I endured several months of law enforcement academy prior to becoming a reserve deputy sheriff. In ministry, we generally believe a three- or four-year seminary regimen of academic courses is all that’s needed. The problem is, research indicates that the percentage of pastors who have graduated from seminary but quit the ministry within five years is alarmingly high. Such research is calling into question the effectiveness of our training methods.

As one article puts it, “Across Christian denominations, it’s been observed that the first five years of a ministerial career are a critical time. The newly ordained need to establish new identities as pastors or priests, and to develop leadership styles and practices that can sustain them through the challenges of leading a church.

Those who don’t succeed at these tasks often become isolated, frustrated, or disillusioned, and many consider leaving the ministry.”[13] One Los Angeles Times article cites the pastoral attrition rate to be as high as thirty to forty percent.[14]

Dr. Richard J. Krejcir, leading a team of researchers at Fuller Seminary’s Francis A. Schaeffer Institute of Church Leadership Development, writes, “After over 18 years of researching pastoral trends and many of us being a pastor, we have found (this data is backed up by other studies) that pastors are in a dangerous occupation! We are perhaps the single most stressful and frustrating working profession, more than medical doctors, lawyers, or politicians. We found that over 70% of pastors are so stressed out and burned out that they regularly consider leaving the ministry. Thirty-five to forty percent of pastors actually do leave the ministry, most after only five years.”[15] He then concludes, “Many pastors—I believe over 90 percent—start off right with a true call and the enthusiasm and the endurance of faith to make it, but something happens to derail their train of passion and love for the call.”[16] If that is true, we have a long way to go in our preparation of men and women for the realities of pastoral leadership.

I propose that one of the reasons why the pastoral attrition rate is so high is that we have failed as seminary educators to examine our methods of preparation from God’s perspective. After all, while there were religious academic institutions in Jesus’s day, neither he nor any of his disciples had either attended or graduated from any of them.

Now, don’t get me wrong or misunderstand what I am advocating here. I’m not encouraging students to throw down their books and walk out. Rather, I’d like them to consider a wider paradigm of training beyond the hallowed halls of academia. Perhaps a better way to look at it is that the time of seminary instruction may actually be only phase one of ministry training with other, less formal phases to come. Future phases may follow God’s agenda, his timeline, and outcomes known only to him and individually crafted for each person called.

I suggest that one of those phases of custom, God-ordained ministry preparation is pain and suffering. Yes, that’s right—pain and suffering. This is one of those biblical paradoxes. The first will be last, the weak will become strong, the humble will be elevated, those who give will receive, those who willingly become servants become free, those who die to self will receive life, and those who endure pain will be used for God’s kingdom purposes. It follows the teaching of Paul, where we read in 2 Corinthians 1:3–7,

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ. But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; or if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which is effective in the patient enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer; and our hope for you is firmly grounded, knowing that as you are sharers of our sufferings, so also you are sharers of our comfort.

The biblical theology of God’s prescription of pain as preparation was espoused by a sixteenth-century Carmelite monk by the name of Juan de Yepes. He was born in 1542 in Fontiveros, Spain.[17] In 1567, he was ordained and given the name John of the Cross due to his life of prolonged pain and suffering. Later known as Saint John, his writings “describe the work of God upon the soul—not through joy and light, but through sorrow and darkness. The concept of the ‘dark night’ has become an integral part of understanding the spiritual journey.”[18]

In his most famous work, The Dark Night of the Soul,[19] he suggests that those who desire a close and intimate walk with God (certainly that should include every local church pastor) must at some point in their spiritual pilgrimage with God experience a season characterized by spiritual isolation, unanswered prayers, and unrelenting painful circumstances. During this season, ministry leaders are shaken to the core, and life circumstances can become so severe that they wonder if God himself has betrayed them.[20]

One seasoned ministry leader who has dedicated a significant portion of his ministry career to exploring this phenomenon writes, “Many pastors are largely unaware of the teachings of Saint John of the Cross, and insufficiently aware of the biblical theology of the purpose of sorrow and suffering, and thus when sorrow and suffering come into their lives and ministry, their effectiveness in pastoral ministry is negatively affected.”[21]

One need look no further than Scripture itself to validate this paradox of preparation. We see it in the forty years of arduous training that Moses endured as a shepherd in the desert and in Joseph’s season of suffering in prison while waiting for God’s sovereign commissioning. And who would want to volunteer for the trials endured by Ezekiel? Then, of course, there are the shipwrecks, beatings, and imprisonments of Paul and the painful suffering of countless early-church martyrs. Many of these personalities were busy being “about their Father’s business” when tragedy struck. For those who endured such overwhelming hardships, a level of intimacy that simple academic preparation could not replicate characterized their relationship with God.

In my profession as an executive coach and mentor of ministry leaders, I can’t begin to describe the role that pain and suffering have played in the development of character and spiritual formation among so many senior pastors and chief executive officers. In fact, when I counsel ministry leaders who are approaching retirement, I ask if they have ever endured a “dark night of the soul” experience. The majority of them have, and with vexing pain they recount their experiences to me. They often refer to them as the most painful periods of their careers and yet the best seasons of their lives. Such a paradox indeed!

Those who are enduring such a season of spiritual intimacy with God experience an inability to sleep, a feeling of being isolated from God in their prayer life, loss of appetite, stress, depression, anxiety, a profound awareness of their sin, and a general sense of not being in control.

John Coe, an expert on the process of spiritual formation and a colleague of mine at Talbot School of Theology, has been studying this phenomenon for many years. He believes God has very specific and deeply personal reasons for the soul when placing the individual in the dark night. He writes, “The following two specific goals he has for believers at such a time are: first, to assist them in letting go of something that they trust in more than Him (e.g., the spiritual disciplines), and secondly, to encourage them toward a deeper trust in Him without any corresponding pleasurable feeling or experience.”[22]

Seminary professor and therapist Chuck DeGroat writes about this experience in the life of pastors and says, “In our North American context, failure and struggle are often viewed as problems, jagged detours on what is supposed to be the smooth, straight road of life. It’s a distinctly Western phenomenon, but one that subtly impacts our Christian perceptions. Thus, many pastors feel as if depression, doubt, or distance from God amount to obstacles to ministry, rather than opportunities for it.”[23] He goes on to describe what he feels are God’s purposes for the dark night experience. He states, “The purpose of the dark night, of course, is to strip us of our futile attempts to find God on our own terms and awaken us to a much simpler desire for intimacy with God.”[24]

In her book When God Walks Away, Kaye McKee writes that the purifying process of the dark night is so effective in the soul that “we emerge from the dark night with new resolve to make God our one and only desire.”[25] One psychiatrist and spiritual director asserts its purpose succinctly: “It is the secret way in which God not only liberates us from our attachments and idolatries, but also brings us to the realization of our true nature.”[26]

According to St. John, “three signs indicate a dark night, and for the experience to be an authentic dark night, all three signs must be present at the same time: first, a sense of dryness in one’s spiritual life; second, a difficult time praying in one’s usual way, sometimes even an inability to pray; and third, a growing desire to be alone in loving awareness of God.”[27]

It is not unusual for a particular crisis event to occur to precipitate the start of such a spiritually traumatic season of training. Such events that I have come across in my counseling include being unexpectedly terminated from employment, a severe financial setback, the loss of a parent, the birth of a special-needs child, marital crises, etc. For many ministry leaders, these events have opened the door to a significant season of soul searching and deep personal introspection. For those who are courageous enough to embrace this phase of ministry training, it yields a deeper intimacy with God and broader horizon of impact in the lives of those whom they are called to serve.

And what of our own pain and suffering? What is our response to this uninvited guest along our path to spiritual maturity? Tim Keller, in his recent book Walking with God through Pain and Suffering, suggests a course of action that includes reflection, a spirit of thankfulness, and responding through love. Sittser summarizes, “We can also think, thank, and love, which will enable us to endure and mature. Thinking requires us to focus our minds on the eternal truths revealed in the biblical story. Though we will never be able to think our way out of suffering, it is possible—and helpful—to think about the biblical truths that make our suffering comprehensible. Thanking, in turn, forces us to reorder our loves and relocate our glory, turning our attention to the One who bends suffering to his glory and our benefit. Loving means pursuing the virtue that reflects God’s nature most perfectly. God chose the way of love in the Cross; we can, too, in our suffering.”[28]

DeGroat concludes his article with these words: “But also consider this moment to be an opportunity to see what Jesus may be up to in your life, or in the lives of those you counsel [or teach]. What you might find is that you’re being invited into the glorious purging of the dark night, where the old self and its old loves are shed and replaced by a new and deeper love for Jesus, for others, and even for you.”[29]

What we have seen from this cursory review of Scripture is that the heart of God, that steadfast will and longing desire of our heavenly Father, is to call out to the lost and broken of our world, to gently whisper an invitation in their ear to come into an intimate and deeply personal relationship with their Creator. We see that for some, many of whom were unsuspecting and unprepared, God initiated a call on their lives to represent him before the lost and needy world around them. Those who, in spite of their objections and hesitations, accepted God’s call were ushered into a season of ministry preparation that often included a period of pain and suffering. This experience, though confusing and mystifying to most, resulted in a closer personal intimacy with God and a broader horizon of ministry opportunities. Such was certainly the case for contemporary ministry leaders such as Corrie ten Boom, Joni Erickson Tada, Steve Saint, and a host of others.

To ministry leaders, you who have accepted his call on your lives into vocational service, let me provide you with a glimpse into your future. If you desire to be used by God to impact the lives of those in this world who are broken, forsaken, and downtrodden, you yourself must be prepared to walk that path. It will be out of your own pain and suffering that God may choose to use you to relieve the suffering of others. David Powlison puts it this way, “When you’ve passed through your own fiery trials, and found God to be true to what he says, you have real help to offer. You have firsthand experience of both his sustaining grace and his purposeful design. He has kept you through pain; he has reshaped you more into his image. . . . What you are experiencing from God, you can give away in increasing measure to others. You are learning both the tenderness and the clarity necessary to help sanctify another person’s deepest distress.”[30]

Once again today, we note that God is anything but predictable. He chooses whom he wants for reasons known only to himself. A select few he also invites into specific ministry that requires focused attention to the study and proclamation of his Word. This requires formal instruction and intense dedication. Seminary training is not designed to be easy or stress-free. If you can’t handle this pressure now, you certainly won’t be able to handle what’s awaiting you after graduation. But know this, at some point along your journey of personal spiritual formation and ministry service, you will encounter a season of pain and suffering—some perhaps brought on by your own decisions, some brought on by the sovereignty of God himself. During those lonely and isolating times, trust in God’s ability to carry you through them. Never forget Psalm 34:8: “The Lord is good.”

I close with a reading of Psalm 121, known as the Pilgrim Song, from The Message:

I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.

He won’t let you stumble, your Guardian God won’t fall asleep. Not on your life! Israel’s Guardian will never doze or sleep.

God’s your Guardian, right at your side to protect you—Shielding you from sunstroke, sheltering you from moonstroke.

God guards you from every evil, he guards your very life. He guards you when you leave and when you return, he guards you now, he guards you always.

Notes

1. Hans W. Wolff, Anthropology of the Old Testament (London: SCM, 1974), 56.
2. Frank E. Gaebelein, The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1990), 52.
3. Benson Commentary on Genesis, http://biblehub.com/commentaries/benson/genesis/3.htm.
4. Millard J. Erickson, Christian Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1985), 934.
5. Ibid., 935.
6. Gaebelein, The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, 2:318.
7. David Guzik, “1 Samuel 16—God Chooses David,” Enduring Word Commentary, 2013, https://enduringword.com/bible-commentary/1-samuel-16/.
8. Ibid.
9. Ann K. Ratcliffe, “Brace Yourself Jeremiah! Answering God’s Call with Our Lives,” Unity, January 1994, http://www.unity.org/resources/articles/brace-yourself-jeremiah-answering-gods-call-our-lives.
10. Steven Mason, “Ezekiel 1–17, ” Theology of Work Project Online Materials, Theology of Work Project, Inc., https://www.theologyofwork.org/old-testament/ezekiel/ezekiel-1–17.
11. Gordon Preece, “Vocation in Historical-Theological Perspective,” Theology of Work Project Online Materials, Theology of Work Project, Inc., https://www.theo-logyofwork.org/auxiliary-pages/vocation-depth-article.
12. Bob Deffinbaugh, “David Becomes Israel’s King,” https://bible.org/seriespage/18-david-becomes-israel-s-king-1-samuel-16–2-samuel-10#P2589_941144.
13. Into Action, “How Many Quit? Estimating the Clergy Attrition Rate,” http://into-action.net/research/many-quit-estimating-clergy-attrition-rate/.
14. Tina Dirmann, “Pastoral Pressures Test Faith,” Los Angeles Times, January 29, 1999, http://articles.latimes.com/1999/jan/29/local/me-2802.
15. Richard J. Krejcir, “Statistics on Pastors,” Francis A. Schaeffer Institute of Church Leadership, 2007, http://www.truespirituality.org/.
16. Ibid.
17. E. Allison Peers, Spirit of Flame: A Study of St. John of the Cross (New York: Morehouse-Gorham, 1944), 4.
18. Richard J. Foster and James Bryan Smith, Devotional Classics: Selected Readings for Individuals and Groups (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1993), 33.
19. Saint John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul, trans. E. Allison Peers (New York: Image, 1990).
20. Sherryl Stone, “A Crisis of Faith,” Christianity Today, December 2008, par. 1.
21. R. Neal Gray, “Dark Night of the Soul, Crisis of Faith, and Implications for Pastoral Leadership” (PhD diss., Capital Seminary, 2017), 2.
22. John H. Coe, “Musings on the Dark Night of the Soul: Insights from St. John of the Cross on a Developmental Spirituality,” Journal of Psychology and Theology 28, no. 4 (2000): 293–307.
23. Chuck DeGroat, “3 Truths about the ‘Dark Night of the Soul’: A Painful and Profound Reality That Shatters Illusions,” Christianity Today, February 23, 2015, par. 8.
24. Ibid., par. 11.
25. Kaye P. McKee, When God Walks Away: A Companion for the Journey through the Dark Night of the Soul (New York: Crossroad, 2006), 91.
26. Gerald G. May, The Dark Night of the Soul: A Psychiatrist Explores the Connection between Darkness and Spiritual Growth (New York: HarperCollins, 2004), 67.
27. Daniel P. Schrock, The Dark Night: A Gift of God (Scottdale, PA: Herald, 2009), 17.
28. Gerald L. Sittser, “Tim Keller on Enduring Suffering without Losing Hope,” Christianity Today, January 8, 2014, par. 11.
29. DeGroat, “3 Truths about the ‘Dark Night of the Soul,” par. 14.
30. David Powlison, “God’s Grace and Your Sufferings,” in Suffering and the Sovereignty of God, ed. John Piper and Justin Taylor (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2006), 166.