A great while ago I had some rather difficult parishioners who gave the clear impression that they would really prefer a different kind of pastor. Thankfully, my parish today, while small, is a wonderfully appreciative congregation, filled with parishioners who love their pastor and often tell me so; I am quite thankful for their faithfulness. But it was not always so in my ministry, and I can certainly relate when I hear of other pastors’ woes. A congregation may have a great need of reform, of learning what it truly means to be Lutheran in theology and practice. And so the task may be daunting and may bring a pastor to a point where he feels rather helpless. Such was my own situation at various points in my personal history; I remember the feeling and the difficulty personally.

And, for what it’s worth, I remember distinctly an occasion when a certain antagonist was letting me know of his displeasure, and just then I realized something. I got the distinct impression that he seemed to be expecting his remarks to reach somehow into my psyche and convince me that I really must do things differently. I must become more likeable; perhaps bring back children’s sermons; perhaps smile more; perhaps offer a more low-key worship experience. None of these things would have caused any change for the better, because, as I was well aware, the real problem was with my inability to hide the fact that when we are at worship I am not really thinking about what the people might be thinking of me. Rather, when I am at worship I am thinking, or trying to think, about the One I am worshiping; I try to remember that I am in the presence of the Incarnate One, and it is my constant prayer that I will not deviate from that awareness. So my response to this particular antagonist on this particular day came from this awareness.  I simply and calmly sighed and said to him, “I don’t care what you think of me.”

Which, of course, may have sounded crude or haughty or selfish, though that was not the intent. That simple response was an attempt at a concise way of saying, negatively, that what I do care about is whether I am being faithful, whether I am carrying out my duties as pastor properly and in a salutary way. Whether I am delivering the gifts of Christ to his faithful people, and not compromising on that. To say “I don’t care what you think of me” is to say that if I am not liked or appreciated it cannot be allowed to change my orders from my Lord, who in fact has said, “You will be hated for my name’s sake.”

So then, while it is always an encouraging thing to receive kind remarks and words of appreciation, it is not—it cannot be—a necessary thing. For sometimes those benefits do not accompany the task at hand; and if they do not, it makes the task more difficult, but it does not relieve the pastor’s responsibility. What matters in the end is what Jesus thinks of you. And he told Peter three times simply to feed his sheep. That’s the task. And if it should become difficult, it is well worth remembering that you are blessed if men should revile you and hate you and say all manner of evil against you, falsely, for his name’s sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven.

Pastors, you have a job to do. So get on with it, and remember not to care what people think of you.