So Pastor, what are you doing today?

A few weeks ago I spent far too much time on Twitter. Now my wife would probably say that I spend too much time on Twitter about 349 days a year. But the other week I managed to crack out 49 tweets in one thread. Let’s just say that’s a few more than normal.

It all started when a couple of friends asked me recently what my week looked like. The old joke that a pastor is invisible 6 days a week, and incomprehensible on the 7th still comes out occasionally. Maybe it’s just because I preach rubbish sermons! See what you reckon here. But I think it’s mainly because to a lot of people, whether church members or people outside the church, at least the first half is true. It can be very tempting for pastors to spend the majority of their week locked up in the study working hard on sermons. Even when people do see their pastor during the week, they don’t always know what he gets up to the rest of the time.

So, in part to answer my friends’ question, and to help others understand what ministry really does look like in a post-industrial Yorkshire mill town, I decided to live tweet my week. Check it out here. I wanted to show my friends (and anybody else that cared to listen) that, in our context here in Cleck, a pastor who spends his entire week in the study is going to make minimal impact for the kingdom of God. He might preach sermons that make Spurgeon look like a loser, but unless he engages with real people day to day he’s going to be preaching awesome sermons to a very select few. I also wanted to challenge some views of what is and isn’t pastoral ministry that I’ve encountered over the years. To suggest that we should maybe have a bigger view of what being a pastor involves. That hanging out with mates in the pub, at the football, or in a café is as much pastoral ministry as preparing a sermon.

I hope the thread shows the importance I place on spending time with people. Investing in church members to help equip them to disciple one another, and share the gospel with their friends. Investing in those who aren’t yet trusting in Jesus to build relationships, and show them the awesome person of Jesus. Just being a normal human being, who spends time with people, laughing, talking, mithering, and getting on with life together. You know…like Jesus did. Jesus: the glutton and the drunkard, the friend of tax collectors and sinners.

I also wanted to model to our church’s members what it looks like to get stuck into people’s lives, in a way I don’t normally. A fresh nudge that the gospel calls us to live as a family; in and out of each other’s houses, spending time chilling together, opening the Bible with each other, and pointing one another to Jesus. A fresh call to sacrificial use of time, energy, and cash in getting stuck into relationships with people around our town and valley. In fact, since then, I’ve started sharing my weekly google calendar with the church’s members, so they can see what I’m up to and be praying. And so they will, hopefully, be inspired to get out and spend time with people themselves.

Because here’s the thing: I can spend my time with people all I want, but there’s only one of me and 17000 people in Cleck. And it’s only as we as a church get stuck into our town; sacrificially, daily, lovingly, that we’ll show people the true beauty of the gospel. Even if all our church do that, and we’re very slowly getting there, we’re still only 14 in a valley of 50000. We need more workers. We need people from both inside and outside of Yorkshire to look at the need here, and commit to come and get stuck in. To join us in this joyful, happy, exhausting slog that is the work of making disciples where very few people know Jesus.

And, because of that fact, I also wanted to nudge the wider evangelical world. To start a conversation, however small, about what ministry looks like. About how we reach people with the gospel. About how we invest in people. But to also nudge maybe just one person to see the need. To commit to praying for our gospel needy area, both here in Cleck and around Yorkshire. To maybe even consider joining us in this mission. That here, in the Spen Valley, where for the vast, vast majority of people Jesus is not named or known. That here, the gospel might turn the world upside down.

Big hopes for a Twitter thread I know. But then, who’d have thought 120 terrified losers, hiding out in a spare room would ever have any impact on the world…