I want to encourage parish pastors. You, men, are on the front lines of a war. This is not a metaphor. Spiritual warfare is very real. And the congregation is the front line.

I’m reminded of the St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans, where the battle lines are visibly drawn, as outside the front of the church there is typically a line: arrayed like an old-fashioned army of red-coats, a militia of tarot card readers and fortune tellers sitting at their booths. Tourists file by, some to turn one way into the doors of the church, while others turn the opposite way to cavort with the witches and the necromancers.

The pastor is indeed at the front. He is in the trenches, and he wears the insignia of an officer. He has a target on his back. He has authority, but unlike in the military forces of the visible realm, he cannot order anyone to do anything. He is essentially a commander of a completely volunteer unit. He has no sidearm, and he cannot punish anyone for insubordination. And yet he must lead this voluntary flock. He must shepherd them to the Lord while tending to stragglers. He must be on the lookout for predators - and to fight them when necessary. He must protect one part of the flock from those members who have gone rogue, and who are now a danger to the flock.

All the while, Satan focuses on the parish because this is truly the front: the altar, the font, and the pulpit. This is where our Lord Jesus Christ is present in our time and space, inflicting casualties on the enemy.

The chancel is indeed like the trench in a pitched World War I battle, in which the whistling bombs and ear-piercing machine-gun fire seem continuous at times, punctuated by relative calm periods of tense waiting. Entire ministries are played out: decades of time at the front, fighting over the same ground, perhaps gaining a few feet one year, losing a few feet the next year. And there seems to be no end in sight to this warfare.

The pastor and his family are often bloodied and battered. They quickly become hardened veterans. The devil never sleeps, and his spies and allies lurk about everywhere. The pastor must always stand at his post, armed with the Word of God and the Holy Sacraments. In most cases, he lives, serves, and dies in complete obscurity, to be replaced by the next man: often a fresh-faced second lieutenant who will soon grow grizzled and visibly wearied from the fray. Sometimes the pastor himself becomes a casualty, taken out by enemy fire, falling to temptation, or shellshocked into unbelief or mental breakdown, or removed by mutiny from the troops below or by treachery from the chain of command above. Sometimes members of his family becomes casualties. It is not uncommon that the children of pastors grow up to leave the faith. Marriages are often strained to the breaking point. Wives sometimes leave. Pastors suffer battle fatigue.

It is little wonder why so many of my colleagues suffer with ongoing post-traumatic stress. This may sound ridiculous to anyone not engaged in this spiritual warfare. Though the missiles are unseen, they are there. Though the enemy troops are not visible to the naked eye, they are there. And they take their toll.

Pastors, your work is truly crucial to this war. You are there by commission of the King Himself. You may not hear it often, but your calling is no trifle. Though the pastor is sometimes caught between the pincers of the congregation on one side - unhappy for a plethora of reasons, valid and invalid - and the district office on the other, as some (not all) district presidents go behind the pastor’s back to undermine his work. The pastoral office is indeed a lonely calling, one that may show very little in the way of visible victories and rewards. You may man your post for forty years, look back upon your work, and be tempted to think that you have accomplished nothing.

N.T. Wright’s description of St. Paul made me think a bit of the parish pastor. For he too writes “from the front” - certainly not writing Scripture like the Apostle - but the pastor too dashes off quick articles in the congregation’s newsletter, and of course, weekly sermons. The pastor may well wonder if anyone is reading or listening at all. The word “pastoral” suggests an idyllic life, perhaps one of study and leisure, of gathering in leather chairs in paneled studies with colleagues to leisurely discuss obscure theology over scotch and cigars. But for most of my brothers in arms under the cross, this is not the case. It is more like the life of the fireman: putting out one conflagration after another, at times at a dizzying rate, while at other times catching his breath, poised and waiting for the next fire to break out. In the case of the typical parish pastor, the word “pastoral” suggests stress, not leisure.

And like all soldiers at the front, parish pastors depend on support troops: logistics, air cover, artillery. Pastors rely on supply chains, personnel and materiel, and the support of the nation.

And this is where district and synod offices come in. They are not on the front lines, but their work in supporting those at the front is crucial. A district president can be an asset, or he can be an ally of the enemy. If he is a petty politician, he will hurt the war effort, and ultimately become an enemy of the cross. But if he understands his role as a logistics officer who is not the center of attention, he can be invaluable to the war effort.

Similarly, the synod’s publishing house and seminaries. These forces supply air and artillery support to the pastors in the trenches. They must understand that their work is valuable because they arm the parish pastor and his rag-tag militia of demon-fighters. Everything they do should be geared to giving support to pastors who are rallying his troops to the banner: to the altar, font, and pulpit. That is indeed where the action happens.

The same goes for the various agencies, schools, auxiliary offices, and bureaucracies of the church. It is easy for any organization to lose touch with its purpose: to support the troops at the front. These entities do not exist in and of themselves, nor for themselves. They are rather, again, like air and ground cover for the men in the trenches. Issues, Etc. understands this, as one of their promos describes their work as “providing artillery support for the Church Militant on the front lines.”

In the eyes of the world - and sadly, perhaps even in the eyes of many in the church - the parish pastor is unimportant. He is replaceable. His name is not well-known. He doesn’t write books or have his picture appear in synodical publications. He isn’t a well-paid professor with tenure. He probably makes considerably less than the salary of a professor, university administrator, or a district president. He doesn’t fly around the country to conferences and meetings, bringing his wife and staying at fine hotels. His black clerical shirt may be a bit threadbare, and he isn’t wearing a new suit.

Increasingly, our parish pastors are not paid district scale, lack benefits, and must work additional jobs - sometimes menial in nature. In the eyes of the world - and perhaps in the pastor’s own subconscious - this means that his work is unimportant. It gives the impression that the front lines are really not at the pulpit, font, and altar, but rather in the cubicle, the office, and at the resort.

But don’t you believe it, Pastor!

My advice to pastors is to stand at your post. Be militant. You are a man under orders. Press on. Just do it one more day. You will lose some of your troops. There will be casualties. You and your family will suffer. But remember that you are armed with the Word of God. Use your weapon! Go out fighting! Though you cannot see it, the enemy fears you - not because it is you, but because Christ is with you. Your weapon is the Word. And that is the nuclear option. Don’t shy away from declaring total war on the devil, the world, and your own sinful flesh. You are not called to be Mister Rogers. You are called to be George S. Patton. You called to be Chesty Puller. Show no mercy to the enemy. Sympathy for the Devil is a song by the Rolling Stones; it is not a game plan for the pastor. And even if you die in battle, die knowing that your sacrifice is not in vain. It’s what we signed up for. Fight hard and smart, and don’t rely on yourself, but on the weapons the Lord has issued you. But indeed, ply your vocation as a soldier: with courage, situational awareness, and with strategic and tactical wisdom.

Pray for courage, and know that every day you hold out is one day closer to our Lord’s mighty army liberating all of us and putting an end to the war once and for all.