Lent is a time when a pastor does not need to add one more thing to the schedule. Anyone who has been a pastor knows that. This isn’t a complaint, it is a reality. Work doubles in Lent. Advent is a sprint, Lent is a marathon, and adding to the marathon is less than ideal. If anyone should know this, it should be pastors and yet, the pastoral formation committee scheduled listening sessions in my geographic region of the LCMS for the week before Holy Week. While I recognize that schedules of seminary presidents and synodical officials are different, and have different demands on time, than parish pastors, I still found it odd that they would schedule it when they did. While it was by no means an ideal time of year, it was also far less than ideal in terms of a location and the time of day. I knew that if I was going to go it would be at least two hours to get there from where I serve and likely three hours to get home because of how traffic works around Washington DC. I didn’t need to add this to my schedule but I went anyway. 

I did not go intending to speak, I went intending to do what the pastoral formation committee of the LCMS was there to do, listen. I wanted to hear what other pastors in my region had to say about forming pastors, about the pastoral shortage in our church body, and about anything else they deemed worth the trip. To their credit, they did come to our region. The LCMS Reporter recently published their own version of how the session I attended (and the one the following day in the Florida-Georgia District) went. You can read it here. A fellow pastor and friend of mine, John Scott, also put together his own report which you can read here. I encourage you to read both to get a sense of what the hours were like. Below are my own recollections and the thoughts that I did end up sharing as the session came to a close. 

A session beginning in the early afternoon meant that I would have to factor in the potential traffic both ways. I did, and happily, getting there didn’t have any of it. I arrived early enough to eat a little lunch and spend a little time reading through a recently released liturgy for those who wondered if they should speak (it is below). I saw friends when I walked in as well as faces I recognized but didn’t really know personally and, of course, more than a few I didn’t know at all. All together there were roughly forty people, including the four member pastoral formation committee—Rev.  Dr. James Baneck, Executive Director of the Office of Pastoral Education, Rev. Daniel Galchutt, LCMS Interim Chief Mission Officer, Rev. Dr. Thomas Egger, President of Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, and Rev. Dr. Jon Bruss, President of Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne—and the reporter from LCMS communications Rev. Roy Askins. I can’t say I was surprised at that turnout given the time of day, year, and location. I was, however surprised to see a friend from the New Jersey District as he came down with a few from his district and their District President. The Atlantic District also had some representation but by and large it was the SED, mostly but not exclusively pastors, and it was our District President, Rev. Dr. Bill Harmon, who served as the emcee. John Scott’s report details the day well and I commend it once again to you because that was the session I actually attended.

While there were no shortage of speakers, of ideas offered, of pushback on SMP restrictions given, I want to highlight a couple of speakers. I appreciated everything I heard despite not agreeing with it all. Part of the value I found in being there was hearing other perspectives than my own. I was challenged even as I found affirmation. Good questions were asked about what the actual attrition rates for SMP students under 40 (roughly 30%) and how that compared to residential (roughly 15%). Had time not run out I would have shared one of the things they told us when I started my PhD is that people who don’t finish, who don’t earn the degree, often fail to do so because life gets in the way. I would imagine the same is true for both residential and SMP guys under forty. I imagine it in part because I contributed to the attrition rate when I left the seminary in 2010. I know life gets in the way. 

On the whole the committee did seem to listen and give space even if at times they did offer some pushback on narratives, including whether or not there is a pastoral shortage in actuality and how that might compare to previous times in the life of the LCMS. Some speakers were passionate in their defense of the SMP route, others wanted more rigor applied to it, and still others pointed out the gross unprofessionalism they have experienced trying to get students into the program and lamented, quite loudly and clearly, the frustration and embarrassment he has with the way the LCMS speaks publicly through the office of the president and how those public proclamations impact his work as a pastor outside of Washington DC. Perhaps the PFC aren’t the people that needed to hear that last part, but they are in a position at the very least to pass on the concern. 

There was one moment I found to be disingenuous. To be clear, I’m not actually accusing anyone of intentionally being disingenuous, I am saying that’s how I received it. The issue may be with me and my own suspicion more than the speaker. The second to last speaker raised the concern I flagged above, that this session was scheduled the week before Holy Week. One of the panel said that as seminary faculty they don’t take into account the schedules of pastors. The best construction I can put on that is that they didn’t realize it was the week before Holy Week because of their work at the seminary. Still, I have hard time believing that those who train pastors, those who have served as pastors, fail to understand the time demands associated with that time of year. Like I said, the problem may be with me rather than the one who said it. 

I did not go intending to speak, but I did have the last word. I wrestled with whether or not I could contribute something unique to the conversation, to say what needed to be and hadn’t been said yet. So many people had said so many important things that I hope those listening take what others said to heart. But, I felt it necessary to make the point that learning modality doesn’t matter as much as the student or the prof. I can say that because I have learned and taught via all the modalities under consideration. I’ve done so from undergraduate to graduate levels, including doing my PhD via distance at a university that, when I went, was ranked top 35 in the world for my field of study. I don’t say that to brag but to suggest that modalities are more neutral than we may want to admit. We have been given so many different options for forming and educating pastors that we should make further use of all of them. I then told a story about my favorite theologian. He went through the Wisconsin Synod’s prescribed theological training, a three year program, in two years, with a gap year in between. He joked that he was the only guy that did that, and most assuredly the only guy who did that while single in his first year and married in his last. He served decades at the sem in St. Louis, forming and training pastors, without a PhD and without being ordained. He wasn’t ordained until he moved to England and yet, he preached well before that moment. More than that, I shared, he once made the comment that if men could learn the original languages and didn’t, it was not simply laziness, it was ingratitude. I suggested that for us to live in this day and age, with the kind of technological and educational opportunities and advancements at our disposal and not to make the most use of them, it is ingratitude. 

There was one other point I tried to impress upon them, namely, that this cannot be about institutional preservation. I serve as a a supervisor for an SMP vicar and I am connected to the Center for Missional and Pastoral Leadership not because I care about institutions, but because people want and need what I can provide. This isn’t about institutions, it is about people and it must remain that way. 

I may not have liked the time of year or the three hours it took to get home, but I am appreciative that they at the very least heard, whether or not they listen, to the concerns and thoughts expressed. I was reticent to speak, but I’m glad I had the last word before we closed in prayer in part because that’s how I walked into that space, having prayed. What I prayed, and what I continue to pray before I speak, is below. 

A Liturgy for Wondering Whether to Speak Up

O Christ Whose Words Are 
Never Wasted or Misplaced,
I have been silent sometimes, when
untruths are espoused around me,
not knowing how my arguments might
be received, and whether it is better to
speak up in a given moment, or to
intercede quietly while waiting for some
more opportune time when your Spirit
might lead me into deeper interaction
born of real relationship and concern
for another person. 

I do not want to be divisive, O Christ.
I would wear your name in a way
that demonstrates care, kindness,
and consideration of others, even
when I disagree with them.

But I also do not want my silence to be
seen as agreement when destructive views
are advanced, adopted, and defended by
others around me. And so I know this tension
within when I hear acquaintances or friends
articulate ideas that I fear might do a real
moral harm if carried to their logical ends.

As much as I can I would look for
opportunity to engage such ideas in 
the context of considerate conversation
rather than heated confrontation.

I do not want—by my own knee-jerk
reaction to an emotionally charged
topic—merely to add another burst of
noise to the already chaotic cacophony
of competing claims and strident accusations
that has too often become our cultural 
substitute for meaningful discussion. 

And I know as well that there will be
times when I am simply wrong. When
I am actually the one holding fast to
some assumption that does not align with
your eternal truths—and it is my own ideas
that need to be challenged and changed.

Unto those ends, let me listen well before
speaking. And when I speak, let me give
voice to my beliefs in humble and
thoughtful ways that hold no hint
of judmentalism or self-righteousness. 

I know I do not always get this right.
I am as prone as anyone, either to raise
my voice when I should be quiet, or to 
remain silent when I ought to find courage
to offer some compassionate corrective.
My own emotions do come into play.
I can be by turns impetuous or defensive,
my empathy and my integrity undermined
equally by pride or insecurity. 

And yet, I know that even in my
weakness and uncertainty, you are
still pleased to work through me.

And so I do the only thing I can do,
yielding again to you this tangled
mess of motives, emotions, passions,
and insecurities—the whole Gordian
knot that comprises my heart—that you
might be about the daily work of ordering
and reordering it according to your better
purposes, making me a more fit instrument
for your redemptive works.

So give me a divine wisdom, O God,
as well as a Christ-like love,
that I might discern when and how
to speak fitting words of truth
at opportune times,
in ways that embody your compassion.

Give me increasing sensitivity, O God,
to your movements in the lives of others,
that whenever and wherever I would speak
of spiritual things, I would do so at the
impulse of your love, sowing good seed,
co-laboring with your Spirit. 

And in such settings, let me always in
humility and mercy treat graciously with
any who hold unwittingly to harmful ideas.

For my goal in engaging with others
on matters of truth should not be simply
to score a point or win an argument, but
that those with whom I engage would
one day find a greater joy in you—in
surrender to your unchanging precepts,
your convicting and pursuing Spirit, and
your relentless compassions.

And that is not a transformation of
heart a person can simply be argued
into. Rather, they must taste of your
divine lovingkindness, so that their
deepest, eternal yearnings might be
stirred and awakened. 

So let me remember that the person
with whom I disagree is not my enemy.
My enemies are the lies and the author
of the lies of this age that would blind
minds to what is true—those are the dark
deceptions I wish to expose and undo.
So let me never engage with another
person as if with an adversary I hope to
defeat, but as with a fellow divine
image-bearer whom I hope to graciously
persuade unto their own greater liberation.

For if, in the process of proving
a point, I fail to love well the hearts
I hope to sway, then all my best
arguments are emptied of their
vitality and purpose. 

Now give me wisdom to know the 
difference between a situation in which
it is fitting to articulate my own belief,
and one in which there is no need, or
no greater purpose to be served. 

Meet me now even in the midst of my 
own weakness and insecurity, O Christ, 
and in my words and actions and 
demeanor manifest your convicting 
and illuminating power, that others 
around me might sense in my interactions 
the graceful beckoning of your Spirit,
awakening some new hope of an
eternal love that might be theirs.

For my part, let me learn to live always
ready to give a reason for the hope
that is in me. But let me never in
presumption run ahead of your Spirit.
Prompt me to speak
when I should speak,
to silence when I should
hold my tongue,
and to do all in love, 
interceding tirelessly for those
whose brokenness elicits your compassion.

You have promised that your
Word will not return void, O God.
So give me sensitivity in those times
and places when the articulation of your
truths would be of eternal benefit to some
who hear, when such gospel seeds might
one day—by the workings of your Spirit—
yield, in the soil of their hearts, abundant
harvests of righteousness, peace, and
joy, springing from a newfound
fellowship with their Maker.

Do not fear them or be intimidated, but in your hearts, regard Christ the Lord as holy, ready at any time to give a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you. Yet do this with gentleness and reverence, keeping a clear conscience…—1 Peter 3:14b–16a

Amen.

Douglas Kaine McKelvey, Every Moment Holy: Rites of Passage (Nashville: Rabbit Room Press, 2026), 84–86.