Member-only story
A Five-Word Pastoral Manifesto
I perpetually felt like a pastoral failure because I wasn’t a very good Jesus substitute.
A Cursed Robe
In April 1995, upon my ordination into gospel ministry as a pastor, I received a “Geneva gown” that was endued with a curse.
Now, there was anything inherently sinful with the robe. There are plenty of legitimate reasons to wear clerical garments.
But as I began to put my arms in the oversized sleeves and button the garment from my neck to below my knees, something happened.
That morning, walking into the service and ascended the pulpit to lead the 2,000 congregants, I was no longer McKay, the ordinary disciple of Jesus who loved to tell bad jokes and dance to 80’s music.
I was no longer an ordinary Christian.
I was a pastor. A minister. A man of the cloth. Born upon a pedestal. Conferred with a robe.
It was the correct size. But it didn’t fit. I had never been more uncomfortable in my life.
While the robe was not heavy on my shoulders, it felt like the weight of the world upon my heart.
I do not think I was consciously aware of how that affected me been or would affect me in the years to come…
