My Dear Shepherds,

I’ve wondered if I might have made the preaching big leagues if I’d just had an accent. British, say, or better yet, Scottish. We all know those guys have a leg up on the rest of us.

That said, there’s hope even for me. Our birth into God’s kingdom gives us an accent every Christian—and certainly every pastor—must nurture. It isn’t our vocabulary so much as it is the tone and inflections of humility. Our people rely on their pastor to be wise and understanding, for which we need the lovely accent of humility.

Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom. (James 3:13)

Humility (ESV: meekness) is the unmistakable, unspoken quality that brings authority, credibility, and love to our ministry. It’s not the mumbling monotone of a crushed spirit but the strong gentleness marked by “an inwrought grace of the soul” (S. Zodhiates).

The Lord Jesus schools all his disciples in the cross-training of humility. Just ask that old boaster, Peter, who had to be sifted like wheat. I doubt there is any work so ideally suited to the “inwrought grace” of humility as shepherding a flock. Peter himself told elders, “. . . not lording it over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock.”

How does the Lord humble his shepherds? He has his gentle ways. The Holy Spirit patiently renews our minds through Scripture, grace, and the company of the saints (who, I’ll grant you, can migrate out of the gentle category). The Lord “crowns you with love and compassion,” a regal blessing and a relief for our souls. He allows us, unworthy as we are, to bring out to his people the Bible’s treasures, a task fit for a king. And we’re privileged to shepherd some truly great saints whose godliness humbles us.

Humility also comes at a stiff price sometimes. Our weaknesses and maybe even our sins can become a public embarrassment. Perhaps we’ve been “under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure.” We may have led our flock in a wilderness, with green pastures few and far between. And who of us hasn’t been humbled by a thorn, some “messenger of Satan,” which God used to counter our pride and demonstrate his strength through our weakness.

Then there are the head-butting sheep. Every pastor could have the words of Moses posted on the back of our office door: “What am I to do with these people? They are almost ready to stone me.” We don’t need to enumerate all the humbling and humiliating variations on that knee-buckling aspect of ministry. You have your stories and I have mine. When I was touring in a college singing group, we stayed in a farmer’s home one night. He regaled us with funny stories and then he wrapped up by saying, “Yeah, there are a lot of great people in the world . . . and then you meet the bugger.”

Pastors untrained by humility are inevitably unwise. They might preach straight from Scripture, but their foreign accent will give them away as surely as the pretenders in Judges six who couldn’t pronounce Shibboleth. I think it’s why James also said, “Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.”

The accent of “humility that comes from wisdom” makes us and our teaching approachable and grace-filled. It shapes our listening and prayer, and renders us child-sized enough to maneuver through the low passages of God’s kingdom. So get small and . . .

Be ye glad!

Lee Eclov recently retired after 40 years of local pastoral ministry and now focuses on ministry among pastors. He writes a weekly devotional for preachers on Preaching Today.