I want to write to build up the body of Christ, but platform building takes time away from my local congregation.
I recently spoke with a pastor in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. His congregation is small—150 or so members—and his routine is busy, with duties extending far beyond the walls of the church building.
The pastor’s typical week is a testament to his dedication to his parishioners. Most of his time is devoted to visitation, prayer, and pastoral care, often in nursing homes and hospitals. He reserves Saturdays for sermon prep and tries to keep Fridays for time with his family.
Sometimes, the pastor receives invitations to go further afield: to speak at conferences, contribute to Christian media outlets, or even write books—all alluring opportunities and a sign of his intellectual prowess and extensive network in ministry circles. However, he typically declines when considering how much that work and absence would affect his flock’s spiritual growth. Instead of building a platform, he is nurturing a community. Or, in the words of author Jen Pollock Michel, he is leading a life instead of leaving a story.
I have struggled with that choice for myself. After graduating from seminary, I started writing and teaching at my local church. Because I didn’t need to make money from my writing, I’ve had the luxury of flexibility, and soon, looking for places to be published became a job in itself. It was gratifying and humbling to be invited to be a member of a writers’ guild and have others promote my work. But I also started to see that regularly writing for public consumption was complicated, hard, and unsustainable if I wanted to remain invested in my congregation.
I want to write to serve the church, but writing increasingly takes time away from my actual church. Suppose ...
