My Dear Shepherds,

Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume / Breathes a life of gathering gloom (“We Three Kings”)

In ways beyond the magi’s knowledge myrrh was certainly a fragrance fit for “the one who has been born king of the Jews.” It was an ingredient in the sacred anointing oil sprinkled throughout the tabernacle. It was also blended in expensive perfumes. But when myrrh was mixed with the wine offered to Jesus on the Cross (which he refused) and mixed with the aloes which Nicodemus brought to embalm Jesus’ body, myrrh became the “bitter perfume” in Christian lore.

As with the gold and frankincense, myrrh was way out of the price range of the original shepherds who knelt before the infant Jesus. Now, however, we Christian shepherds have our own sources.

There is a sacred fragrance to our calling. Pastors handle holy treasures, lay our hands upon the warm outside walls of eternity, dwell on God’s mystery finally made known, and outfit saints for eternity with Christ. It is like working in a perfumery. “For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved ….”

But pastoral work requires dying, too. When Paul told the Corinthians, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed,” he was tallying the high cost of being an apostle and a shepherd. We certainly haven’t taken the beatings Paul did but we also “always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body” (2 Cor. 4:8-10). It is as though we carry the scent of myrrh.

Bearing persecution, as terrible as it is, is spiritually noble and brave. The Lord seldom required that of me. Most of my pastoral dying felt ignoble. I was often afraid—of criticism, of messes, of not being prepared. My thorn in the flesh was insomnia, a lying “messenger of Satan.” When people left the church, I took it personally. Thanks to the Holy Spirit, I found my way to the throne of grace in those times, and ever so slowly I think I gained the aroma of Christ. So have you.

There is another kind of dying required of pastors. We experience it when we come close enough to our people to feel the wounds of their suffering, sins, doubts, and deaths. I suppose we all keep a certain safe distance from some of these hurts but not from all of them, not if we love our people. Not if we love Christ.

In reflecting on the lessons for pastoral work found in Lamentations, Eugene Peterson wrote, “Among other things pastoral work is a decision to deal, on the most personal and intimate terms, with suffering. … Pastoral work engages suffering.” He emphasized that our task is seldom to resolve suffering. Jeremiah knew that full well. Peterson wrote, “Lamentations develops the pastoral empathies which nurture a saving relationship with the God who wounds and binds up, the God of the cross and the resurrection.”[i]

All Christians must take up their cross and follow Jesus. As Bonhoeffer wrote, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” That is especially true of pastors, for we not only must die to ourselves, but share in the dying of our people.

We may not have realized that this dying carries the unique, welcome fragrance of myrrh, or that we can pour out the costly perfume before the Lord Jesus.

Be ye glad!

[i] Eugene Peterson, Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work, (John Knox Press), pp.93, 96.

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.