Don Carson still teaches theology at least once a year in Quebec... in French! Of course, this due to the fact that he is the son of a Quebec church planter... and has a heart for ordinary pastors.
Some pastors, mightily endowed by God, are a
remarkable gift to the church. They love their people, they handle
Scripture well, they see many conversions, their ministries span
generations, they understand their culture yet refuse to be
domesticated by it, they are theologically robust and personally
disciplined. ... Most of us, however, serve in more modest patches.
Most pastors will not regularly preach to thousands, let alone tens of
thousands. They will not write influential books, they will not
supervise large staffs, and they will never see more than modest
growth. They will plug away at their care for the aged, at their
visitation, at their counseling, at their Bible studies and preaching.
Some will work with so little support that they will prepare their own
bulletins. They cannot possibly discern whether the constraints of
their own sphere of service owe more to the specific challenges of the
local situation or to their own shortcomings. Once in a while they will
cast a wistful eye on “successful” ministries. Many of them will attend
the conferences sponsored by the revered masters, and come away with a
slightly discordant combination of, on the one hand, gratitude and
encouragement, and, on the other, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, and
guilt.
Most of us—let us be frank—are ordinary pastors.
Dad was one of them. This little book is a modest attempt to let the
voice and ministry of one ordinary pastor be heard, for such servants
have much to teach us.
* * *
Tom Carson never rose very far in
denominational structures, but hundreds of people ... testify how much
he loved them. He never wrote a book, but he loved the Book. He was
never wealthy or powerful, but he kept growing as a Christian:
yesterday’s grace was never enough. He was not a far-sighted visionary,
but he looked forward to eternity. He was not a gifted administrator,
but there is no text that says “By this shall all men know that you are
my disciples, if you are good administrators.” His journals have many,
many entries bathed in tears of contrition, but his children and
grandchildren remember his laughter. Only rarely did he break through
his pattern of reserve and speak deeply and intimately with his
children, but he modeled Christian virtues to them. He much preferred
to avoid controversy than to stir things up, but his own commitments to
historic confessionalism were unyielding, and in ethics he was a man of
principle. His own ecclesiastical circles were rather small and narrow,
but his reading was correspondingly large and expansive. He was not
very good at putting people down, except on his prayer lists.
When he died, there were no crowds outside the hospital,
no editorial comments in the papers, no announcements on the
television, no mention in Parliament, no attention paid by the nation.
In his hospital room there was no one by his bedside. There was only
the quiet hiss of oxygen, vainly venting because he had stopped
breathing and would never need it again.
But on the other side, all the trumpets sounded. Dad won
entrance to the only throne-room that matters, not because he was a
good man or a great man—he was, after all, a most ordinary pastor—but
because he was a forgiven man. And he heard the voice of him whom he
longed to hear saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant; enter
into the joy of your Lord.”
God willing, Carson will speak about his father and our Father at our pastors conference, February 4-6.
It's because of faithful ordinary pastors like Tom Carson (Don's
father) that we have the privilege of being a part of a church planting
movement in Quebec.