Ministering to the Marketplace: What Can a Pastor Do?

Last week, Denise Lee Yohn issued a plea in Our Work Matters to God (Even if Our Church Doesn’t Say So): “I wish my pastor understood me, believed in me, commissioned me….And from what I hear from the hundreds of Christians I’ve met through my work in the faith & work movement, I am not alone in this. There seems to be a big gap between how much our work matters to God and how little our churches reflect that—and our discipleship feels stunted by the gulf…. Despite my deep appreciation for the pastors I’ve known, there’s often a quiet gap between us. As if some of them don’t quite get me.”

Having spent the beginning of my career in a consulting firm, let me affirm and echo Denise’s plea. And, as a pastor, let me add that pastors want to be able to close the understanding gap. How could Denise’s plea be addressed?

My own journey into the pastorate had a purposeful detour into the marketplace. As a junior in college, having been clearly and definitively called by God to the vocation of pastoral ministry (another story for another time), I wrestled with God for most of a year, fearful of the financial implications of his call. Only as I began my final year of college did I finally realize the maxim that my arms were too short to box with God. I surrendered myself to his call, but I should also add—joyfully. We do not change our own hearts, but as I wrestled with God for most of a year, he changed my heart, transforming a reluctant future pastor into an excited incoming seminary student, filling out applications, starting to study Greek, wondering which seminary I would attend.

And then my college pastor stepped into the discussion with what at first seemed like strange advice: “Don’t hurry.” As I queried what he meant, he said some version of this (though thirty years later, please do not expect an exact quotation): “Look, if you go to a good seminary, I hope that someday when you’re pastoring a church and someone sits down in your office and says, ‘I can’t do this anymore. I’m feeling my soul sucked out through my keyboard. But I can’t not do this anymore. I have a mortgage and kids, and I have to grind this out for 30 more years.’ I hope,” my pastor said, “that if you’ve gone to a good school, you will give that person good biblical advice, but I want more than that for you. I want you to be able to empathize with the people to whom you minister, not just sympathize.”

And all my recently-completed seminary applications went into the recycling bin. A few months later, after four rounds of interviews at several different firms, I stepped into the world of management consulting as a new analyst, excited and unsure what lay ahead, but confident that God intended me to do this for two years before I would then head to seminary.

Two years became a bit over five, because after two years had passed, I realized I hadn’t learned even half of what God intended to teach me in the marketplace. Some of that was that I just needed to grow up a bit, but even more was the amount of life experience and understanding the job gave me. Truth is, I loved management consulting. I didn’t love 80 hours a week, of course, but I loved the work, and I learned things that have formed me even to this day. I learned far more than empathy, adding a set of skills atypical, but incredibly useful, in working at a church. At times, I have wished that every pastor would work in the marketplace before ministry. And some denominations require just that.

And yet, I remember that my story is mine, and I should not make it normative for every other pastor. Another pastor, a prince of a preacher, who was my colleague in a previous academic appointment, used to enunciate the opposite view. He would ask me, “Bill, why did you waste years of your life not getting better in the thing that would be your ultimate vocation? I was preaching three times a week by the time I was age seventeen.”

In God’s wisdom, I have no doubt that preaching three times weekly by age seventeen was the proper ministry preparation for him, just as going to the marketplace was the proper ministry preparation for me. God writes each of our stories, and for many pastors that story has not meant a turn in the business world, even if I am incredibly glad mine did.

But if pastors do not have marketplace experience of their own, how can we answer Denise’s plea?

Initially, we must recognize that our theology supports it. As Denise lays out, the Bible moves through four broad movements, often called “the four-chapter story” or “the four-chapter gospel.” I first encountered this framework in Al Wolters’ classic study Creation Regained, and it transformed my understanding of the gospel in the world. As Denise briefly laid out in her article, the story of the Bible, which is the story of our world, moves through four grand chapters—from creation, to fall, to redemption, to renewal.*

The first and fourth chapters are small in our Bibles (five chapters total) but disproportionately huge in our theology because they show us the world the way it was made to be, before there was such a thing as sin in the world, and the world it will someday be, after sin is no more. In creation, we see the world that was, before it was spoiled, and in renewal, we see the consummation of history, the world that will be eternally, with all sorts of echoes—but also all sorts of developments—from creation to restoration. The Bible shows the world going somewhere, not just back to the garden, but from garden to city.

Without creation and renewal, the impact of the gospel is truncated. Good news that consisted of only fall and redemption would be good news enough, for certain. But that Bible would begin at Genesis 3 and end at Revelation 19. Instead, our Bibles begin at Genesis 1 and end at Revelation 22. We are restored, brought back to spiritual life, because God renews us as he makes all things new, redemption that focuses on the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve but spreads to the very creation itself (Romans 8:22).

Work, we must note, is part of the first chapter of this story—creation—not the fall. Genesis 2:15: “The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.” Work, then, is part of our very purpose as human beings, integral to who we are and what we were made to do. And what work is not, then, is punishment for sin. The punishment for sin is that work is hard, that it produces thorns and thistles, that it comes from the sweat of our brow. Work itself, though, is a blessing, not a curse. It reasons, then, that work will continue in the consummation of all history, changed—as we, ourselves will be—but very much a continuation and development of what God had always intended in Genesis 1–2.

Even now, while we await that fourth chapter, while we live in the mix of fall and redemption, work remains as a good and gracious calling. Colossians 3:17 is hardly restricted to work, but most certainly applies: “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” Work is certainly a means to support ourselves in this life (1 Thessalonians 4:11–12), but even more, a chance to honor God and love our neighbor (Col. 3:22–24, Ephesians 6:5–9).  In fact, the Old Testament provides multiple examples of those who served outside the priesthood for the common good, Nehemiah building Jerusalem’s wall and governing, and Joseph fighting world hunger as the most prominent of the two.

Many seminaries, unintentionally, I have no doubt, do not teach a theology of vocation with close to the depth the Bible does. Yet, most of our church members have, did have, or will have a career in the marketplace.

If a pastor realizes the importance of the marketplace but did not work before ministry, are things now hopeless? What can that pastor do? Don’t begin with programs. Faith and work ministries are great. I have been part of several, and they may make sense for your church. But don’t begin there. Begin with a sensitivity and a culture.

One of the worst sermons I ever preached—a real dog of a sermon, I promise you, with no false modesty—created one of the most surprising reactions I have seen. I walked down the aisle, knowing that I had laid an egg, dreading the handshake line at the door. Some would be kind, I had no doubt, and others less so, but no one could pretend I had just delivered an organized and coherent message. Yet, I received real gratitude, not just graciousness, both that day and for the week afterwards, from texts, emails, and personal comments. Confused, I looked back at my manuscript. Why had so many in my church found that sermon helpful? The best I can figure out is this: it turns out that every illustration I had used, though I hadn’t realized it when writing the sermon, was from my time in consulting. Even when executing my craft poorly (In fairness, I was young!), God used the background to connect in ways I did not even realize.

How can a pastor develop a sensitivity to life in the marketplace without having spent years in it? There is much we can do.

First, go to them. Use your lunches. Meet your church members at their workplaces if you can, and then go together to lunch. You will see their world; you will meet their coworkers; you might even see the surprise on their coworkers’ faces at seeing clergy out with their congregants. View yourself as doing “Young Life for old people,” and let contact work drive the bus.

Second, understand their lives. Be inquisitive, even about things that do not at first seem spiritual. Talk about how work is going and even, as long as it’s allowed, what they do. Learn about their patterns, their days, their worries, their commute, their bosses and subordinates, anything you can.

Third, recognize the grey. It is incredibly easy for preachers to oversimplify business and become trite. For example, the line between falsehood and pitching an idea or product as well as we can is quite thin. Banish simplistic advice and phrases such as “just leave on time and go home” or “quit caring so much about what your boss thinks of you.” While there is a time for a blunt rebuke, it should come only after deeply understanding. The challenges and career impacts of showing one’s faith in many workplaces are real, and fear of the consequences is understandable.

Fourth, read with them. That includes the Bible, of course. Texts such as Daniel 1–6 are crucial, as Daniel and his friends navigate serving the Lord while working in a pagan environment. But expand your reading into good faith and work literature. Dorothy Sayers’ classic essay Why Work is often my beginning point. After that, the faith and work genre is now overloaded with great resources: Dan Doriani, Tom Nelson, Tim Keller, Katherine Leary, and many more.  Also read “faith and work adjacent” literature. If I may be so bold to mention the book of a close friend, Steve Garber’s recent Hints of Hope: Making Peace with the Proximate is quite helpful.

Fifth, preach and teach. If we do the first four items on this list, we will naturally begin to preach and teach to the issues that matter to our people. The simple fact is that we always preach and teach to the people with whom we had lunch that week, whomever they may be. So, let’s allow the sensitivities built by time with those in the marketplace to inform our examples, our applications, and our concerns as we teach the Bible.

Sixth, don’t overcorrect. A church is not a business, and we are clergy, not businesspeople. What our congregants in the marketplace want is not for their pastors to become them. They want us to hear and understand them. Further, a culture of preaching to the marketplace alone will warp a church. A huge portion of your church does not work. They may be retired, looking for work, caregivers at home, or students. Avoid, then, every illustration of every sermon or every application of every text being exclusively to the marketplace. Your members in the marketplace aren’t asking for that, either. They just want a portion of your concern as a pastor.

Finally, if we as clergy have become more sensitive to the lives of our people, then it is time to let them lead. One of the cardinal doctrines of the Reformation is the priesthood of all believers, meaning that all believers do the work of ministry. The unique vocation of a pastor, then, is to teach, shepherd, train, and equip, not simply to do all the ministry ourselves. Ephesians 4:11–12: “And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ.”

The unique vocation of pastors, shepherds in the biblical terminology, is to equip the saints. To “equip” in this sense is a fully-orbed concept, meaning to prepare or furnish completely. It involves teaching and training, Bible knowledge, mentorship, counseling, and support. It provides resources and contexts that enable the gifts of everyone in our congregation to build up the work of the church as it supports its members in the whole of life, inside and outside the church, inside and outside their families, and inside and outside the marketplace. As our congregants are called to their various vocations, pastors, this is our calling.

And who better to help us figure out how to minister to the marketplace than those who are in it?

Missiologists have for years observed that once the gospel gets inside a people group and becomes authentically contextualized, it often spreads like wildfire through that people group. The incredibly difficult work of missions is the cross-cultural jump, getting from one people group to another. People of one ethnic group know how to talk to others in that ethnic group, so once the gospel gets ahold of their hearts, it spreads.

But not simply ethnic groups. Not only do different workplaces have different cultures, but also different vocations have different cultures. As an academic and a pastor, but a former consultant, I can confidently tell you that the corporate culture of each group is quite different! The easy jump, then, is for business leaders to talk to other business leaders. They know the lingo, they don’t have to learn the culture; they live it every day. Similarly, blue-collar professionals innately know how to talk to other blue-collar professionals—because they do it every day.

When the pastor is trying to understand how to speak to and minister to the marketplace, that is learning to make a cross-cultural jump—not crossing the cultural boundaries of ethnicity, but the cultural boundaries of vocation. And any missionary worth his or her salt will tell you that the process involves a lot of careful listening.

So, sit down with those in your church. Commit to the work of careful, authentic contextualization—after all, now you have a relationship to do so—and ask them what they need for you to minister to them well. Be prepared to be humbled, of course, and choose those you ask wisely. But then listen, and (within obvious bounds) do what they tell you.

Even better, sit down with them and ask them what they need to minister to each other well. Pastors have a lot going on; the point is not for us as clergy to do it all. We can’t. The point is to equip our people to minster well to each other. And they can tell us how.

*The final term shows some differentiation. Renewal, restoration, and consummation are all common terms used for the final chapter.