A review of The Pastor’s Justification: Applying the work of Christ in your life and ministry by Jared C. Wilson. Published by Crossway, 2014.

I don’t normally like books with the word ‘pastor’ in the title.

I’m not really sure why that is. And I’m reasonably sure it’s my problem rather than the books problem. But for whatever reason, when a book addresses me as a ‘pastor’, a little part of me dies.

Partly, like someone who is so used to being called by their nickname that they don’t recognise it when some refers to them by their real name, I have never quite got used to the idea that the word ‘pastor’ refers to me. I take enormous joy in doing my work as a pastor, but I get very little out of seeing the word ‘pastor’ listed under ‘occupation’ on my passport. I really don’t like being called ‘Pastor Rory’ (and would only agree to that happening in our church if I were allowed to return the compliment—“After Pastor Rory gives the sermon, Teacher Dave will be leading us in prayer, before we enjoy the supper provided by Prosecutor Kathryn and Carpenter Joe.”)

Some books addressed to pastors are overly romantic, addressing pastors as if they are some rarefied, hyper-spiritualised group, rather than saved-by-grace sinners, doing the workmanlike, backroom job of equipping the saints of works of service. Others are overly Boot-Camp-ish—yelling at me about how I’m the Point Man, the SAS Commando, commissioned to go boldly where no Christian has gone before, rather than an actual idiot, who prays on average a least once a day, “Lord, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here. Help!”

But, as we’ve established, I had a bad attitude to start with. All of which is to say that, when I say Jared C. Wilson’s book The Pastor’s Justification is a good book, I don’t say that lightly. I was never going to say, “You had me at ‘pastor’”.

In The Pastor’s Justification, Wilson addresses pastors in two sections. Part 1 is a sustained meditation on 1 Peter 5:1-11, and speaks to pastors about their freedom, holiness, humility, confidence, watchfulness and justification. Part 2 is a meditation on the five solas of the Reformation: scripture alone, grace alone, faith alone, Christ alone, the glory of God alone. The chapters are short and readable—easy to read before breakfast, and rich enough to feed on over the course of the working day.

Here’s three things that commended the book to me:

First, Wilson can write. This book has no evidence of a book written to capitalise on the fame of a celebrity-pastor, nor the tell-tale signs of a difficult labour from the sort of pastors who want to have written books much more than that are actually able to write books. Wilson can write, and has written a readable, substantial book whose value as a book stands free of the fame or otherwise of its author. It does not just contain information worth knowing: it is a book worth reading.

Secondly, the book negotiates the opposite risks of romanticism on the one hand and Boot-camp brutalism on the other that so often haunt this genre. Wilson does not flatter the vanity of pastors. His challenges are often searing and uncomfortable. He warns the visionary, entrepreneurial pastor of the risk of seeing a ‘sheep who wants to be fed’ as someone who is ‘in the way of the vision’ (28). He reminds us of Peter’s call to the shepherd the flock ‘that is amongst you’ (30) rather than shepherd the much cooler flock that will be amongst us once we get our music right.

Who are these hypothetical people who need the gospel more than the people put right in front of us? Why do we expect these missional phantoms to be easier and more well adjusted than the people we’ve already got? (p 78).

Quite.

Wilson is not flattering, but neither is he unkind. The tone is gracious and sympathetic. The calls to holiness and hard work and heroic perseverance sound like they are coming from a fellow servant rather than a drill sergeant. The book is not overly biographical, but it has just enough vulnerability and real life in it to encourage you on and make you feel a little less alone. It’s no great surprise in a book by a pastor and for pastors to have an ‘I’ve made mistakes’ passage somewhere. Here’s Wilson’s

Have I failed?…If I wrote down all the ridiculous and stupid things I’ve ever done, all the books in the world could not contain them. I am still haunted nineteen years later about the prank video I made as an intern that led one hysterical mom to think her junior-high-aged son was in trouble with the police. It was huge violation of trust and woefully immature besides, and I can’t shake it. I have botched the handling of personal offenses, taught terrible lessons, avoided handling conflict, dealt with conflicts in an overbearing and insensitive way, and ignored and dismissed and spun my own sins and the sins of others to their great harm and the dysfunction of the church. (p 109).

For me, that goes beyond the ‘despite my enormous success I’ve made odd mistake too’ passage. It’s raw and real and made me think, “Snap. Sounds like me. Glad to hear I’m not the only one.”

Occasionally there is some USA-specific stuff in it. In one passage on revival Wilson says, ‘Revival is the thing most of us want for our churches, which is why we try scheduling it every year.’ (162) Is ‘scheduling revival’ a thing? (Just googled it and it turns out, in the USA, it is. “Revival, 7pm Sunday. Here”. Wow.). And Wilson is obviously a complementarian and addresses himself to ‘brother-pastors’. If you’re not complementarian, you’ll find that annoying.

I think it is an enormously valuable book for pastors to read. Low on technique, high on genuinely spiritual, gospel-shaped input into the lives of those who are called to shepherd ‘the flock that is among you’. Recommended.

Rory Shiner is a pastor at St Matthew’s, Shenton Park, in Perth, WA.