e n t r i e s p r o f i l e t a g b o a r d l i n k s
Carson's Moving Memoirs
written at Wednesday, February 29, 2012
To read a part of the story of a man who
lived a lifetime of faithfulness in the small things, who labored diligently
without seeing a lot of earthly rewards. I was deeply moved after reading a
segment of Don Carson's book on the life and reflections of his father Tom
Carson. This exerpt served to encourage, strengthen, and remind me, of what it
means to live a faithful Christian life.
Don Carson’s forthcomingMemoirs of an Ordinary Pastoris the most moving and inspiring book I’ve read in some
time. Two things conspire to make this book a must-read for those with a
pastoral heart: 1) Tom Carson’s honest and faithful life and insightful journal
entries and 2) his son Don’s wise and soul-feeding narration.
Things weren’t easy for Tom Carson
(1911-1992). Quebec was spiritually frigid in the 60s and 70s when he planted a
church and preached week in and week out to twenty people. His journals are
very honest. He wrestled with discouragement and seeming fruitlessness. But he
persevered, staying the gospel course.
Don Carson clearly has a heart for today’s
“ordinary pastors” who labor week in and week out and see little growth. They
attend big conferences but aren’t the speakers. No one contacts them for radio
or blog interviews. Few celebrate their fruitfulness. But they keep their nose
to the gospel grind.
To provide the flavor of the book, nothing
surpasses Don Carson’s memorable prose in these two extended quotes—one from
the beginning, one from the end.
Some pastors, mightily endowed by God, are a
remarkable gift to the church. They love their people, they handle Scripture
well, they see many conversions, their ministries span generations, they
understand their culture yet refuse to be domesticated by it, they are theologically
robust and personally disciplined. ... Most of us, however, serve in more
modest patches. Most pastors will not regularly preach to thousands, let alone
tens of thousands. They will not write influential books, they will not
supervise large staffs, and they will never see more than modest growth. They
will plug away at their care for the aged, at their visitation, at their
counseling, at their Bible studies and preaching. Some will work with so little
support that they will prepare their own bulletins. They cannot possibly
discern whether the constraints of their own sphere of service owe more to the
specific challenges of the local situation or to their own shortcomings. Once
in a while they will cast a wistful eye on “successful” ministries. Many of
them will attend the conferences sponsored by the revered masters, and come
away with a slightly discordant combination of, on the one hand, gratitude and
encouragement, and, on the other, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, and guilt.
Most of us—let us be frank—are ordinary
pastors.
Dad was one of them. This little book is a
modest attempt to let the voice and ministry of one ordinary pastor be heard,
for such servants have much to teach us.
* * *
Tom Carson never rose very far in
denominational structures, but hundreds of people ... testify how much he loved
them. He never wrote a book, but he loved the Book. He was never wealthy or
powerful, but he kept growing as a Christian: yesterday’s grace was never
enough. He was not a far-sighted visionary, but he looked forward to eternity.
He was not a gifted administrator, but there is no text that says “By this
shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you are good administrators.”
His journals have many, many entries bathed in tears of contrition, but his
children and grandchildren remember his laughter. Only rarely did he break
through his pattern of reserve and speak deeply and intimately with his
children, but he modeled Christian virtues to them. He much preferred to avoid
controversy than to stir things up, but his own commitments to historic
confessionalism were unyielding, and in ethics he was a man of principle. His
own ecclesiastical circles were rather small and narrow, but his reading was
correspondingly large and expansive. He was not very good at putting people
down, except on his prayer lists.
When he died, there were no crowds outside the
hospital, no editorial comments in the papers, no announcements on the
television, no mention in Parliament, no attention paid by the nation. In his
hospital room there was no one by his bedside. There was only the quiet hiss of
oxygen, vainly venting because he had stopped breathing and would never need it
again.
But on the other side, all the trumpets
sounded. Dad won entrance to the only throne-room that matters, not because he
was a good man or a great man—he was, after all, a most ordinary pastor—but
because he was a forgiven man. And he heard the voice of him whom he longed to
hear saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant; enter into the joy of your
Lord.”
Carson's Moving Memoirs
written at Wednesday, February 29, 2012
To read a part of the story of a man who
lived a lifetime of faithfulness in the small things, who labored diligently
without seeing a lot of earthly rewards. I was deeply moved after reading a
segment of Don Carson's book on the life and reflections of his father Tom
Carson. This exerpt served to encourage, strengthen, and remind me, of what it
means to live a faithful Christian life.
Don Carson’s forthcomingMemoirs of an Ordinary Pastoris the most moving and inspiring book I’ve read in some
time. Two things conspire to make this book a must-read for those with a
pastoral heart: 1) Tom Carson’s honest and faithful life and insightful journal
entries and 2) his son Don’s wise and soul-feeding narration.
Things weren’t easy for Tom Carson
(1911-1992). Quebec was spiritually frigid in the 60s and 70s when he planted a
church and preached week in and week out to twenty people. His journals are
very honest. He wrestled with discouragement and seeming fruitlessness. But he
persevered, staying the gospel course.
Don Carson clearly has a heart for today’s
“ordinary pastors” who labor week in and week out and see little growth. They
attend big conferences but aren’t the speakers. No one contacts them for radio
or blog interviews. Few celebrate their fruitfulness. But they keep their nose
to the gospel grind.
To provide the flavor of the book, nothing
surpasses Don Carson’s memorable prose in these two extended quotes—one from
the beginning, one from the end.
Some pastors, mightily endowed by God, are a
remarkable gift to the church. They love their people, they handle Scripture
well, they see many conversions, their ministries span generations, they
understand their culture yet refuse to be domesticated by it, they are theologically
robust and personally disciplined. ... Most of us, however, serve in more
modest patches. Most pastors will not regularly preach to thousands, let alone
tens of thousands. They will not write influential books, they will not
supervise large staffs, and they will never see more than modest growth. They
will plug away at their care for the aged, at their visitation, at their
counseling, at their Bible studies and preaching. Some will work with so little
support that they will prepare their own bulletins. They cannot possibly
discern whether the constraints of their own sphere of service owe more to the
specific challenges of the local situation or to their own shortcomings. Once
in a while they will cast a wistful eye on “successful” ministries. Many of
them will attend the conferences sponsored by the revered masters, and come
away with a slightly discordant combination of, on the one hand, gratitude and
encouragement, and, on the other, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, and guilt.
Most of us—let us be frank—are ordinary
pastors.
Dad was one of them. This little book is a
modest attempt to let the voice and ministry of one ordinary pastor be heard,
for such servants have much to teach us.
* * *
Tom Carson never rose very far in
denominational structures, but hundreds of people ... testify how much he loved
them. He never wrote a book, but he loved the Book. He was never wealthy or
powerful, but he kept growing as a Christian: yesterday’s grace was never
enough. He was not a far-sighted visionary, but he looked forward to eternity.
He was not a gifted administrator, but there is no text that says “By this
shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you are good administrators.”
His journals have many, many entries bathed in tears of contrition, but his
children and grandchildren remember his laughter. Only rarely did he break
through his pattern of reserve and speak deeply and intimately with his
children, but he modeled Christian virtues to them. He much preferred to avoid
controversy than to stir things up, but his own commitments to historic
confessionalism were unyielding, and in ethics he was a man of principle. His
own ecclesiastical circles were rather small and narrow, but his reading was
correspondingly large and expansive. He was not very good at putting people
down, except on his prayer lists.
When he died, there were no crowds outside the
hospital, no editorial comments in the papers, no announcements on the
television, no mention in Parliament, no attention paid by the nation. In his
hospital room there was no one by his bedside. There was only the quiet hiss of
oxygen, vainly venting because he had stopped breathing and would never need it
again.
But on the other side, all the trumpets
sounded. Dad won entrance to the only throne-room that matters, not because he
was a good man or a great man—he was, after all, a most ordinary pastor—but
because he was a forgiven man. And he heard the voice of him whom he longed to
hear saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant; enter into the joy of your
Lord.”
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Knowing
What matters supremely, therefore, is not
in the last analysis, the fact that I know God,
but the larger fact which underlies it --
the fact that He knows me.
