So, just how much do you want your pastor to make? There, I said it.
After Sunday worship Brenda and I shared an intimate lunch. The far side of town from where umbrellas adorn Mai Tai drinks in Waikiki, on Kamehameha Avenue in Pearl City sits Flamingo Restaurant. Vintage 1970’s. Not by design, but by default. Original decor is accented by burnt out bulbs, torn laminate veneer on aging booths, and tell-tale grease stains on the wall. Yet service is friendly, the food good. Their chicken tofu is Brenda’s favorite. Me, I go for the pancake breakfast with Portuguese sausage. (For you on the mainland, this ain’t your momma’s biscuits and gravy.)
Two booths away, I think I recognize a guy and his spouse with another couple. He stops at our booth. He used to attend a local church where in years past I regularly spoke when home. He has since changed churches while I continue to proclaim Christ here, there, and everywhere.
Amidst our awkward conversation to regain relational bearing, he fires a flippant comment as he steps away. I fail to hear it clearly; Brenda does. Aghast, she relates, “Can you believe what that guy just said?” Me, “I didn’t hear it well.” Brenda, “He said, ‘Glad to see that business is good enough you can afford to eat here!’ ”
Take a minute and let that sink in.
That remark ranks up there with the time a lady grabbed my cart in the grocery store and confessed, “I want to see what the preacher is buying.” Or when the budget committee was discussing my meager pastoral salary and one member generously offered, “You could plant a garden.” The classic was when my older brother upon learning I was going to school (for seven years) in order to enter ministry, leaned on his knee and smirked, “What’s the matter, can’t you get a real job?” (p.s. He now contributes to my ministry. Hee, hee.)
O.K., let’s face the elephant in the room... the one with the bad smell. After more than three decades in this business, I am aware some folks have a pauper perspective pertaining pastors. I’m not sure, but I think the premise sounds like this. “Look, you’re doing this for love of God. If you really trust Him, He’ll take care of you. (...So we won’t have to.) Besides, it makes you more holy when you sort of live a vow of poverty.” (Unspoken translation: “We look up to you, when we look down on you.”)
In response, there are Scriptures I could quote and a biblical case I could make. That, however, is a sermon for another day. Right now I don’t want to sound preachy ...just ...offensive.
Indeed, we’ve all seen instances where clergy lived big on the backs of sincere donors. Air-conditioned dog houses are a bit much. (Fortunately here in the islands, we have neither heating nor air conditioning.) But still, the question demands a response, “How much do you want your pastor to make?”
To give you a benchmark, answer this, “Does God’s servant deserve to live in a house as nice as yours? Do you want them to drive an old beater vehicle, moderate sedan, or flashy sports car? (Notice I fail to mention trucks: a topic off limits!) Finally, do you want them to make less salary, equal, or more than you? Why, or why not?”
Take a moment and let that seep out.
In closing, three caustic comments are in order. First, one of the reasons Brenda works a real job is so we don’t have to listen to such rubbish. Two, I am truly grateful for all who give to my ministry of their own accord, and trust me to be a faithful steward. Ultimately, I answer to One above them. And finally, in this platform, I can directly confront such ticklish topics. Since, I no longer minister as a local pastor, I serve the Body of Christ by speaking the unspoken.
There, I said it.