“You Can’t Be a Prophet on the Payroll”

As I was prepping for a lecture on Old Testament prophecy, I came across this line from my doctoral supervisor, (the honorable and wise) Professor John Goldingay. I remember him saying it in person—in fact, it has stuck with me for years—but I hadn't come across it in print. He writes, 

In general, a prophet "is independent of institutional pressures of church and state. It's virtually impossible to be a prophet if you are on the nation's payroll or the church's payroll. People such as pastors who are on the church's payroll have to encourage other people to be prophets" (Goldingay, An Introduction to the Old Testament, 263, emphasis mine).

As a minister, even of a small and kinda weird community like TRP, I can attest to the truthfulness of this claim. Or maybe better, I can attest to the pressure of the payroll, though I don't mean that in a literal sense. 

I'm not worried about saying something that will affect my paycheck. (That ship has sailed, I think.)

It's more of a pastor-ly intuition about calling and vocation that sometimes holds me back. 

Believe me, there are times when I would love to come out, guns-a-blazing, without a care in the world as to how my thoughts would land in our community and beyond (what's up podcast listeners!), and just mindlessly launch into a searing commentary on whatever controversial political or theological issue is on the table.

"You wanna know what I think about Mr. Potato Head?! Well, BUCKLE UP, PEOPLE!"

But that doesn't seem to capture the work of a minister (or an interesting sermon for that matter).

The way I understand it, this sort of overly opinionated and, at times, needlessly divisive work fails to take into account the diversity and ongoing spiritual progression/transformation of the people in the seats. 

I can't expect everyone to align with my way of thinking, and my job is not to convince everyone I'm right. I also can't cast aside all consideration for the presence of different viewpoints because, in a sense, that would be to disrespect my own story, my own growth, my own slow and arduous journey of learning what it looks like to follow Jesus (which has led me to the imagined, guns-a-blazing commentaries I wholeheartedly and adamantly believe but don't always say out loud). I didn't use to think how I think know, and I haven't gotten here because someone momentarily blacked out in a fit of rage with a microphone strapped to their face. That's never convincing.

I want to walk with the people of TRP, not over them.

But here's where it gets tricky.

We can't avoid "prophetic" issues. (I don't think that's what Goldingay is saying.)

We can't be silent on things just because (1) they are difficult or (2) we have some congregants who "aren't there yet." (I don't think that's it either.)

To say "you can't be a prophet on the payroll" does not equate to "so maybe we should preach about getting out of debt or maybe we should just give them 5 tips to having a good marriage or maybe we should work in a 5-week series that uses popular movies as a springboard to talk about Jesus! (yeah. that's safe.)" 

It doesn't equate to avoidance. That's been the church's M.O. for years now, and (as the kids said 6 months ago) "it shows."

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As I keep mulling over Goldingay's observation, I'm beginning to wonder if the line is more about accountability ... because a prophet, you know, could roll into a town and be functionally insane.

They could walk around naked for 3 years (Isaiah 20).

Or they could eat bread baked over human poop (Ezekiel 4). 

Or they could hide their dirty underwear in the “crevice” (ew.) of a rock to prove a point (Jeremiah 13).

Or they could smash jars in public (Jeremiah 19).

Or they could just lay down ... for 390 days ... in a row. And then roll over and lay on their "other side" for 40 days (Ezekiel 4).

Nobody is going to pay me to do that. (I know the internet is a weird place, so don't fact check me on that claim.)

Prophets were a tad (a skosh, if you will) disconnected from society, or at least, they were on the fringes of society most of the time.

As a result, they could say (and do) whatever they wanted with no real strings attached. It's kind of like how some of us treat Facebook. (zing.)

The work of a minister is different.

We can't just stroll up to the pulpit and blow stuff up.

But I wonder sometimes, in our ardency to protect "the payroll," if we have missed some of the weightier aspects of our call?

Have we avoided?

Have we allowed?

Have we remained silent?

I think we have.

Because the payroll is powerful.

And the people who fund it are powerful.

And adhering to the status quo is powerful.

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I am hopeful that I might find a balance somewhere between me walking around Salisbury naked for a few years and me preaching sermons with no edge, no pathos, no conviction.

Somewhere between the unhinged and unaccountable and the "way too safe so as not to rock the boat."

Goldingay may be right. 

It may be virtually impossible to be a prophet on the payroll, but maybe there is room for a diatribe or two.

One note. 

If we do go for it ... how about instead of ranting on potatoes (or some other silliness), we black out in a fit of rage over how the church has consistently and categorically diminished the humanity of real people, who have been created in the image and likeness of the God of the universe. 

Maybe that's a more important "prophetic" message we all need to hear.

Or would something like that upset the payroll?

Josh James (PhD, Fuller Theological Seminary) is a commissioned Church Starter in the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and one of the pastors of The Restoration Project. He has written a book about the ethics of the Psalms.