View source for The Aged Minister of Christ Contemplated 2

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<p> <strong>II. </strong>We now, in contemplating the aged minister, estimate <strong>his PRESENT CLAIMS.</strong><br><br>
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      1. He is entitled, if a holy and faithful man, and in proportion to his sanctity and fidelity, to <strong>RESPECT </strong>and veneration. Antiquity seems in most cases to call forth feelings of reverence. An aged tree, an old castle, an antique book, or an article of any kind of ancient date is regarded with emotions of this kind. But this very forcibly applies to an aged man, an aged Christian—but most of all to an aged minister. Not, however, that in application to the latter case, old age, apart from moral excellence, is entitled to respect; quite the contrary, for it then becomes an object of detestation and loathing. To see the sanction of hoary hairs given to iniquity is indeed disgraceful and revolting. <strong>A wicked old man is the most shocking spectacle upon earth—with the exception of a wicked old minister! </strong>On the other hand, "the hoary head is a crown of glory when found in the way of righteousness."<br><br>
      If in youthful piety there be the beauty that charms, in aged godliness there is the venerableness that awes. The old and faithful servant in a family, a farm, or a factory, who has worn out the vigor of fifty years in promoting the interests of his employer is an object, as he moves slowly along, for any one to stop and look at with respect, and to pay to him the tribute which his hoary virtue deserves and demands. What, then, should be the veneration paid to the aged servant of Christ and his church, by those who have had so long a time the benefit of his services, and have seen him grow old in their service. As he moves among his people, not only might the children pluck his gown to share his smile—but their fathers should look up to him as to one who has a claim upon their reverential regard.<br><br>
      2. Has he not claims also upon their <strong>AFFECTION</strong>? It might seem almost an infraction of the law of modesty for one of the ministry, and one who is himself approaching the rank, if not already in it, of an aged minister, thus to put forth demands for his brethren, which some will consider as demands for himself. Well, if the claims be just and be presented in meekness, there is, perhaps, nothing wrong in this. Hear then what the apostle says, "We beseech you, brethren, to know those who labor among you, and are over you in the Lord, and to esteem them very highly in love for their works' sake." Now as the claim is founded upon labor, if there be no work done, there is no affection due or demanded. It is affecting to consider that the man who wrote this had to say on another occasion and to another church, "The more I love you, the less I am loved." One would hope for the honor of human nature that this is a rare case—and indeed even in Paul's case it applied only to a part of the church.<br><br>
      The love to a minister does not rest simply on personal grounds, though both as a man and a Christian he may by his general and sacred excellences possess and present them—but on official and relative grounds. It is not claimed for what he is in himself—but what he is to his people as their minister and pastor; their friend and counselor; in fact the instrument of their salvation, and the promoter of their progressive sanctification. Surely then it is true, that if offices of such love, tenderness, and value entitle him to their affection, the claims must increase with years. It would be strange indeed if the studies and experience of so many years did not qualify him still more effectually to discharge his duties towards them. He is therefore far more entitled to their affection in old age than in youth.<br><br>
      Yet it is painful and melancholy for some men to contrast, as they have to do, the affection shown them in youth, and that which is exhibited when wrinkles are on their cheek, and grey hairs upon their brow. With what mournful accents has many an one had to say, "Where is then the blessedness you spoke of? For I bear you record, that, if it had been possible you would have plucked out your own eyes and have given them to me." In his early ministry every wish was not only gratified—but anticipated. Every eye sparkled with pleasure, every countenance beamed with a smile, and every tongue was voluble with the language of welcome praise and compliment. All vied with each other who should be most fawning in their attention to his comfort, for the increase of which every door was open and every table was spread. Ah! this was in the gladness of his espousals with the church. But he has grown aged among them, and, poor old man, he has to see all this repeated, not however to himself—but to some young brother lately introduced to another church in the same town, while he has to say with a sigh, "So was it with me once—but I am old."<br><br>
      So have we seen the bridegroom in the days of his nuptials, lavishing on his bride the ardor, the vigilance, the delicacy, and inventions of his love, as if he could not do enough to make her sensible of the sincerity and strength of his affection. Time rolled on, and "first love" at length cooled into decent moderation, then into lukewarmness, then into indifference, then into neglect, and then, in some cases, into alienation. It is a lovely spectacle to see the youthful pair in their unobtrusive, unostentatious fellowship with each other—but how much more so to see the aged couple when thirty or forty or fifty years, with all their trying circumstances, have rolled over their union as sincerely, respectfully, and affectionately attached to each other as when they led each other from the nuptial ceremony to their home. It is a beautiful scene to witness a church gathering with delighted love around a young pastor on his entrance among them—but it is a still more beautiful object to see a church gathering with respect and affection round an aged one.<br><br>
      3. If an aged minister has a claim for affection, he must also have a right to expect <strong>GRATITUDE</strong>. Every young pastor who might have gone to other churches, had he chosen to do so, has, upon accepting the invitation of a congregation, some demand upon their thankfulness. He has terminated their solicitude, he has supplied a chasm in their church history, he has united them more closely to each other by uniting them to himself. So far he has already benefitted them. But of course his claims go no further. He has made them promises—but he has yet had no time to fulfill them; and has opened prospects before them which he has not yet been able to realize. How different the case of an aged minister. He has perhaps more than fulfilled his promises, and more than realized his prospects.<br><br> He has been to them as a church collectively, (and for how long a period,) the center of their union, the medium of their communion. He has presided over them in "the meekness of wisdom." He has, by God's blessing, been the promoter of their peace, and the means of their spiritual prosperity. What sweet fellowship and undisturbed communion have they enjoyed during the long term of his pastorate, while other churches have by the removal or imprudence of their pastors been involved in disputes, difficulties, and contentions. As individuals, they are no less indebted to him. To many of them he has been the instrument of their conversion; to others of their sanctification, consolation, and edification, through many, many years. In the sanctuary he has refreshed, quickened, and warned them by his sermons; and in their houses by his visits. Through his wise and faithful counsels and reproofs they may have been preserved from ruin for both worlds. He was first the guide of their youth, then the counselor and help of their manhood, and is now their prop when, like himself, they are old.<br><br>
      Let any one estimate, if he can, the amount of instruction, consolation, and pious benefit of every kind, which must have flowed into a Christian church of any magnitude during a ministry of forty or fifty years. What multitudes during that period have received the richest blessings which man can accept or God impart. Here before you is the man who has exhausted the vigor of his youth, the strength of his manhood, and now is adding to it all that remains of life, for his church—and let that church estimate, if it can, the amount of its obligation to its pastor in his seventy-fifth year, who of those years has given fifty to them, and now pledges to them all that remain, whether the remainder is to be spent in suffering or in service.<br><br>
      4. I next mention <strong>TOLERANCE </strong>and <strong>FORBEARANCE </strong>as virtues which an aged minister is entitled to expect; and of which, in some cases, by the gathering infirmities of declining years, he will stand in need. There is, there must be, as regards capacity for labor, a manifest difference between senility and youthful vigor. Should the powers of the mind show no signs of decay—but remain to threescore years and ten not perceptibly impaired, (and yet how rarely is this the case,) still the frail tenement of the indwelling spirit must sink into irreparable dilapidation. <br><br>The exquisitely beautiful allegory of Solomon must be realized, "So remember your Creator while you are still young, before those dismal days and years come when you will say, "I don't enjoy life." That is when the light of the sun, the moon, and the stars will grow dim for you, and the rain clouds will never pass away. Then your arms, that have protected you, will tremble, and your legs, now strong, will grow weak. Your teeth will be too few to chew your food, and your eyes too dim to see clearly. Your ears will be deaf to the noise of the street. You will barely be able to hear the mill as it grinds or music as it plays, but even the song of a bird will wake you from sleep. You will be afraid of high places, and walking will be dangerous. Your hair will turn white; you will hardly be able to drag yourself along, and all desire will be gone. We are going to our final resting place, and then there will be mourning in the streets. (Ecclesiastes 12:1-5)<br><br>
      Yes, all this must be realized in the minister as well as in others. Exertion cannot be so long continued in age, fatigue cannot be so easily endured, difficulties cannot be so resolutely met and mastered as once they were. To expect the same bodily effort in an aged pastor as in younger years he with facility rendered to his church, is unreasonable. Demands upon his labor, time, and attention must be lowered, and expectations must be lessened in a ratio proportioned to the increase of his years. And then, in many cases, the mind partakes of the decay of the body. The quickness of the memory is diminished, and like other men he forgets first names and then faces—the richness of his imagination is lowered, and the former power of his intellect is weakened. He is not what he was—he knows it, feels it, laments it. Often, could you break in upon his solitude, you would find him in tears to feel that he cannot go forth as afore time—doubting whether it is not his duty to resign his pulpit and his charge into other, younger and abler hands.<br><br> To criticize such a man's labors with a remorseless severity; to compare him cruelly with some younger men, or with his former self; to expect from seventy years what is, and what was, rendered by thirty; and then to be petulant, impatient, harsh rebuking if all be not rendered which is thus unjustly demanded—who shall characterize such conduct, and in what terms of reproof, not to say of indignation, shall it be condemned? This aged man would be all he ever was if he could—but he cannot. Is it too much to look for patience, tolerance, and forbearance under such circumstances? Shall it be one of the bitterest blasts to his soul in the cold evening of his life's winter, to find that he has not only outlived his former self—but the patience of his friends? On the contrary, his flock should make him feel that his very ruins that remain are precious in their eyes—and that they accept as a compensation for the vivacity of youth, the experience of age.<br><br>
      5. And has he not a claim upon your <strong>ATTENDANCE </strong>upon his ministry? To desert him when he is old, is a poor reward for the more effective services of younger and stronger days. For such a man to find himself forsaken, and forsaken too by his own friends and spiritual offspring, for some new and young preacher, lately come to town; or for his own associate with him in the pastorate, is at once unfeeling and ungrateful. I knew a venerable and most excellent minister who had a young and popular assistant, and whose feelings were often wounded and his peace disturbed by seeing the members of the congregation looking through a window in the porch, which he commanded from the pulpit, to see who was to be the preacher, and then turn upon their heel and depart, upon ascertaining that it was he who was to officiate. Old men have their feelings—their sensibilities are not so blunted by nature, or extraordinarily sanctified by grace, as to have no susceptibility to the influence of such treatment—they can, they do, feel neglect, and feel it keenly too.<br><br>
      Perhaps they are not always prepared to admit their own decay. "Strangers have devoured their strength; grey hairs are here and there upon them—yet they know it not." Nor are they always so considerate as they should be of the fickleness and love of novelty that is inherent in human nature. There are some hearers whom no degree of talent would reconcile to hear the same man for any length of time. They have a morbid appetite which is ever craving after novelty, and which, not satisfied with plain, nutritious food, must have all sorts of confectionery and spicy dishes, and then querulously complain if their palate be not thus consulted and gratified. Such people endeavor to justify themselves by blaming the preacher. They are not capricious—but he is so old, so dull, so prosing, that they cannot any longer profit by his ministry—he brings them nothing new, nothing intellectual, philosophical or eloquent, and they really can no longer endure it. Thus they wander about from place to place after every newcomer, and at last acquire a fastidiousness which nothing can satisfy—and a vagrancy which nothing can fix.<br><br>
      There are others not so far gone in this Athenian passion of loving to hear some new thing, who still are strongly disposed to change what is old for what is new, and to forsake an aged for a younger minister. They have grown weary of the voice they have heard for so many years, and tired of seeing the same form rising so long in the same pulpit. Well if old age is a fault, and it is the only one they profess to find in him, it is one for which he has no cause to blame himself, and which must of necessity still grow upon him, and which he cannot hope to mend—but by his spirit's throwing off her mortal coil to "flourish in the regions of immortal youth." This will be too late to be of service to his people; but O, to himself, what a transformation.*<br><br>
      * This section of the sermon is peculiarly affecting to the Editor, as, though it does not, through God's mercy, describe his father's case, it is a transcript of the apprehensions which sometimes haunted him. As is always the case with an old minister, young people will follow younger preachers, and the usual secessions of the usual characters to the Establishment must take place. These matters the Author felt the more the older he grew until he had a colleague, and then he was relieved from all such anxieties. That such was the case with him may perhaps afford a little comfort to some of his brethren.<br><br>
      Still I am aware, and will acknowledge, that there are limits to the forbearance of our churches, even if there are none to the unreasonable expectations and demands of some of their pastors. A church ought not to be allowed to sink under the infirmities, the incapacity, and the obstinacy of an aged minister. It is in some cases very obvious that decay has destroyed the sensibility which would otherwise have perceived and prevented the mischief; and that the aged preacher is scarcely conscious of his own infirmities, and is at a loss to account for the gradual declension of his congregation. In such a case, the congregation are in a painful dilemma; they have either to see the church suffer, or to inflict a wound upon the peace of an aged and deserving pastor. The difficulty is less where the congregation is strong enough to support two ministers, there an assistant, if not co-pastor, can be obtained, and ought to be obtained—and the subject can, and should be suggested to the aged minister, who if he is a wise man will readily consent to the wishes of the people, and be glad to have his own deficiencies thus supplied.<br><br>
      But what is to be done where the minister is entirely dependent upon his stipend for support, and the people are too few, and too poor, to sustain an assistant?* I hardly know what to say, and yet ought I to hesitate, however unkind it may seem, to say, that rather than the church should be destroyed, the pastor, who can no longer keep it up, should certainly resign, and cast himself upon God for support—and if he has been a holy and a faithful man, I do not believe God will forsake him.<br><br> Through God's bountiful Providence, I am not in a situation to make my own views, feelings and determination a standard for others, less blessed in this respect than myself—but my church need be under no apprehension that their pastor will stay to their injury, when he through the infirmities of age shall be no longer able so effectually to discharge his duties as to keep up the congregation. His danger will be, if he does not mistake himself, in an opposite direction, and he will be too quick instead of being too slow, to discern signs of declension, and portents which say to him "arise and depart." His friends will be spared the self denying task of even intimating, in the most distant manner, that it is time for him and them to think of a change. They will have no difficulty in getting rid of him, when it is their wish to do so. Under the Jewish law a priest was dismissed from his ministry functions at the age of fifty. This provided for their being vigorously discharged. This however is not law for us.<br><br>
      Still to see a man clinging with tenacity to office when incompetent to discharge its duties and when others think he should resign it, seems to savor somewhat of pride as if no one could be found to supply his place. Some men have so strange a notion of ministerial obligations, and so equally strange a notion about resigning the pastoral office, that they seem to imagine it a kind of desertion to give up their ministry when all but absolutely incapable of discharging its duties. I think I have seen some instances in which men have retired too soon, "while their eye was not dim, nor their natural force abated." Whenever such a step is taken, and a minister retires from public life, he should take especial care that it should be with dignity. His exit should be graceful, and his farewell tender, so that he may be followed into his retreat with the respect and affection of those whom he left on the field of action.**<br><br>
      * Nothing is more needed among the Congregational Churches than a fund for the support of aged and infirm ministers. I know there are several Institutions to help them to eke out a salary while they continue in their duties, and which distribute a portion of their funds to them after they have ceased to preach—but this does not meet the case. What we need is a fund which should furnish an annuity of not less than forty or fifty pounds a year to such as have attained a certain age and are incapable of labor. I know there are several local institutions that yield this also in part, and I believe that their managers are inviting the ministry thus to take care of themselves in old age. But still something more general, comprehending the whole body, should be provided, if not by a new institution by a consolidation of such as already exist, and every minister should be pressed to join it. Perhaps there are few men less provident against the time of sickness and old age than ministers. True their stipends are usually so small that they can scarcely take care of the present, and must therefore leave the future to take care of itself.<br><br> What a bounty would some rich man bestow upon us, if he would bequeath his fortune to found a general society for the support of aged ministers. [The Author himself eventually accomplished the foundation of such an institution. By giving, as a nucleus around which a fund might be gathered, the sum placed at his disposal at his Jubilee, and by appeals to the public in periodicals, he prepared the way for the Congregational Union taking up the project. And they have so matured the plan, and gained for it such extensive support, that, while this sheet is going through the press, the Editor is engaged in the preparation of a deed to found and organise the Institution. The Author's object was to benefit the churches rather than the ministers, by relieving them from pastors who had, by age or illness, become inefficient; and he saw that to confine the aid of the Institution to right cases would tax all the principle and firmness of its managers. But if a sufficient fund is raised, and the income of it wisely applied, it will be the greatest blessing ever conferred upon the denomination].<br><br>
      ** The Author did not fail to practise what he here lays down. During his last years he had a peculiar dread of surviving his efficiency without being himself conscious of his decay; and for this, among other reasons, he, at a time, which some thought almost premature, let it be understood that the responsibility of the pastorate had devolved upon his colleague.
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