The Hidden Life of the Pastor

By: Lesslie Newbiggin
From: The Good Shepherd: Meditations on Christian Ministry in Today’s World

Abide in me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If a man does not abide in me, he is cast forth as a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire and burned. If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask whatever you will and it shall be done for you. By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be my disciples. —John 15:4-8

As ministers, we are called upon constantly to lead other people in prayer. We are expected not only to lead the regular public worship of the Church, but also to lead the prayers of others on many occasions every day. But even while we are busy with this work, it can happen that our own life of prayer dries up and becomes dead. When that happens, our public ministry of prayer rapidly dries up too. It becomes a dead routine which is soul-destroying both for ourselves and for our people.

It may safely be said as a general rule that the more time we have to give to the ministry of public prayer, the more time we need to spend in private prayer—in that kind of prayer where we go into our room and shut the door and pray to our Father in secret. I want to speak to you today about this unseen dimension of our ministry, about the hidden life of the soul with God.

In this passage which we know so well, our relation to Jesus is described in terms of the parable of the vine and the branches. The absolute condition of fruit-bearing is that the branch is linked to the vine by the multitude of hidden channels through which the life-giving sap can flow. If this hidden flow should stop, the outward appearance of the branch may remain for a time unchanged. It may still have its leaves on it. But there will be no more fruit.

Apart from me you can do nothing. At first sight this seems a harsh saying. Are there not many things we can do? We can have splendid and well-attended services, we can have conferences and evangelistic campaigns and programmes of social action. We can do all this—and it may add up to zero. The real fruit of the vine isn’t there. It is all dry sticks and leaves, but there are no real grapes. The life of Jesus himself, the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control which men instantly recognise as the life of Jesus himself—this is not there.

By contrast there are some situations where we seem to be able to do nothing. There is simply no scope for our activities and our programmes. But it can happen that it is just in such situations that we have the joy of bearing fruit. When I was in Russia, there was one question which I wanted to ask of all the younger Christians whom I met. “How is it,” I asked, “that in a situation where the Church is absolutely forbidden to use any kind of public communication; where printing press, radio and public meetings are forbidden, and where even parents are not allowed to teach religion to their children, the Church goes on winning converts?” The answer which I received was, “The attractive power of a holy life.” When the branches abide in the vine, they bear fruit. The real life of Jesus is reproduced.

He who abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit. What is the fruit that he looks for? It is nothing other than the reproduction of the life of Jesus in the life of the world. In one sense there is nothing else that we have to do. Our work in not to create something of our own, something that has the stamp of our originality upon it. It is just to be the means by which the life of Jesus is being reproduced in the life of the homes and offices and factories of our parish. And that can only happen if our lives are so joined with his that his life flows through ours.

What does it mean to speak of abiding in Jesus? It is hard to speak about this. “It is not a theme for words but for the deeper apprehension of silence” (Temple). Yet we have to use words. Indeed, our Lord says that his words must abide in us. We may perhaps take that as our starting point for thinking about what it means to abide in him. One form of his abiding in us is that his words abide in us. This is a very important clue to the thing we are seeking. We have to make the words of Jesus our constant theme of meditation, to come back again and again to them, to listen afresh to them, to apply them to our situation as it changes each day. If we are diligent in doing this, we shall find that new depths are constantly opening up within these familiar words. There is a miracle here, but it is really so.

There is a condition attached, however. The whole of this section of Jesus’ teaching is woven out of the two threads of love and obedience. We have not only to love the words of Jesus, but also to obey them. It is only as we obey the light that we see in them that we shall be granted further light. If we do this, if we both love and obey, we are led on to ever new ranges of understanding.

To abide in Christ means to let his words abide in us and constantly to refer everything to them. It means going back to them again and again and being willing again to start afresh like a child going down to the bottom of the class. It means, specifically, giving the first place in our time every day, and the first priority in our thinking, to this hidden life of the soul with Jesus.

If a man does not abide in me he is cast forth as a branch and withers, and the branches are thrown into the fire and burned. This is a harsh warning and it is an integral part of what Jesus is saying to us here. If you have ever looked at a vine, you will know that the wood is good for nothing except bearing grapes. If a mango tree does not bear fruit, you can cut it down and use the timber. But from the branch of a vine you could not even make a decent peg. While it is a living branch of the vine it serves one purpose only; it conveys the life of the vine to the fruit clusters so that they develop into full, ripe, sweet grapes. When the branch ceases to do that, it is useless for anything but burning.

Let us apply these words honestly to ourselves. If we do not do this one thing, if we do not convey this life-giving sap which is the very life of Jesus himself to men, what are we good for? A lawyer, a doctor, a carpenter, a driver, a baker—all of them may be bad men, but yet fulfill a useful function in society. But what is the use of a pastor who is not doing this one thing? As much use as a dead branch from a vine.

If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask whatever you will and it shall be done for you. The result of this mutual indwelling is that our prayers will be granted. There is no promise that all the discordant and disordered petitions which are simply the expression of our own undisciplined desires and fears, even hatreds and jealousies, will be granted. If they were, this world would be hell. But the prayers which spring out of our abiding in Christ and his abiding in us are granted. Indeed systematic and unwearying prayers for others and for the doing of God’s will in the world is one of the essential forms of our abiding in him. Through this we become fellow-workers with him, sharing in his unwearied intercession for all men.

About this I would like to make two practical suggestions. The first is that our prayer has to be responsible and disciplined. It should express our serious commitment and not just our passing whims. For this reason I have found it helpful to write down the things and people that I want to pray for, and not to desist until I know that the answer has been given. The answer may not be what I expect. It may be some time before I recognise it. But I should not cease until I know what the answer is. Mere courtesy should forbid the practice of tossing off unconsidered petitions and not waiting for the answer. Prayer is a serious matter.

The second suggestion is that each one of us should have a simple system to ensure that we pray regularly for every person in our parish. It is not possible to pray for everyone every day. But no one should be forgotten. The only way is to have a system which ensures that we do remember each one regularly—if possible not less than once a month.

This wrestling with God in prayer, like Jacob wrestling with the angel, is at the heart of our abiding in him. Through this we are changed. But that is the smallest part of it. Through this the world is changed.

By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be my disciples. The glory of the Father is the end of all things. The Father is glorified in the Son and in the disciples when they are true disciples and bear fruit. If we are seeking our own glory—and it is very very easy to do this in many subtle ways—we are separated from Jesus. Truly to abide in Jesus means to be content simply that the life of Jesus should be reproduced in the life of the world. That is to bear fruit. By that God is glorified. That is true discipleship. And the absolute condition of it is that we should abide in Jesus and he in us.