October is officially Pastor Appreciation month at most churches. But I don’t think it’s coincidence it falls in the same month as Halloween…
…because being a pastor is scary business.
relative of mine goes to a church that’s really been struggling in recent years. Once thriving, now it’s all they can do to keep the place open.
This week he told me, “Some of our folks are really unhappy. The pastor’s got a life-threatening illness and has had to be out of the pulpit often recently.”
That’s terrible, but what are the church members mad about?
“They’re mad that they’re still having to pay the Pastor’s salary even though he’s missing some Sundays. Some of them say they’ll go to another church if it doesn’t change soon!”
Welcome to a window on the ministry, my friends. Even after you die, they’ll still expect you in the pulpit!
Another pastor talked with me about how people “ghost” us. That means they let us minister to them, only to suddenly disappear from church and never show up again. It is the most disrespectful, hurtful thing you can do to a pastor. But people do it all the time.
“Oh but we love our pastor”, they’d say. Yeah, you love him like a tourist loves a clean restroom. When you’re done dumping your problems on him, you’ll hop in the car, drive away and never look back…
This past year, pastors have resigned and left the ministry at historically-high rates. Depression and even suicide numbers have increased. With the stress of trying to minister to people while Covid kept them separated from these same people, many ministers finally gave up.
While I’ve never quit the ministry, I do understand the pull of that temptation. In fact, while I’ve never surfed sexual pornography on my computer (or anywhere else, for that matter), I am guilty of one similar sin. Today I feel the need to confess, and you get to be my confessor. Here goes…
When I’ve been discouraged as a pastor, at times I’ve read help-wanted ads online and fantasized about having a normal, secular job.
Thankfully, I’m not feeling that way at all right now. I’ve started work at a new church and things are going wonderfully. The people are loving and I’m so thankful to be there. But it hasn’t always been that way through the years.
As with most “pornography”, those job ads are mere fantasies. I would never truly be happy doing anything else but being a pastor. I’ve loved every church I’ve served (even the ones that didn’t love me) and am eternally thankful God has called me to the ministry. But I’m looking at my notes now from a particularly tough week of ministry a few years back, and remembering why those other jobs outside the ministry looked so seductive to me.
That particular Monday I had been to my doctor about a sinus infection. But his focus was now on my blood pressure. It was dangerously high, even though I’d already taken my daily dose of medication to fight it. They were so concerned they made me stay and take it again after additional medication. Thirty minutes on, it was still extremely high. When the doctor asked if anything was wrong, I tell him it’s just one of the perks of my job.
“But what’s so tough about being a pastor,” you ask? “You only work one day a week!”
Ok, Felicia. Instead of the whole week, let’s just talk about the Sunday that came before my Monday at the doctor’s office…
I started the day by playing piano for an 8am worship service. It’s a service I started when I came to the church specifically for the older crowd that might not like my preaching and worship style. So basically all the people listening to me play are those who don’t have to hear me preach. It’s a little humbling, but I did it to hold the church together. No one can accuse me of making church “all about me”…though I know that’s exactly what some will do anyway.
After that service, I led a praise team rehearsal, and then helped lead worship for our 2nd Sunday service. Then I got a 3 minute break during an announcement video to collect myself before I preached the sermon for that service.
When I got home a little after noon, there was an adult small group in my home hosted by my wife. They had needed a place to meet while their regular teacher was out of town. Kids were everywhere. I grab a bite to eat while working the room to make sure everyone feels seen and welcomed.
I then hurried back to the church at 2 pm to preach a completely different sermon for a foreign-language congregation meeting in our building. I sat through an hour and 15 minutes of music and announcements I couldn’t understand. Then I preached through an interpreter, which comes off with all the ease of a baptist trying to order from a French wine list.
I went straight from there to our deacon’s meeting at 4pm. There we grieved together about a staff member we had just terminated because of low funds. But since this staff member’s also a church member, it makes everything even more difficult. When you fire church staff, they lose their job and spiritual support system in one awful stroke. So we struggle with how to ease the blow.
I haven’t slept most of the previous week worrying for that staff member. I know that no matter how loving I am, he and his family will see me as a villain who has destroyed their lives. Most likely, they will trash me with everyone who loves them in the church. Their friends will see me, the man they look to for spiritual care, as a tyrant who only cares about money. Nothing other than the passage of time will change that, if it ever does.
That was my Sunday, done on just three hours sleep the night before.
Next, I read a note written soon where one of my deacons told me about my first interview with the church.
.
“So Dave, did anyone ever tell you about what Joe said about you after that meeting?”
Joe had been quite the thorn in my flesh at this church. About six months after I arrived, Joe abruptly resigned all his positions. He and his family then left the church with a melodramatic flourish. The timing and manner of their exit appeared to be calculated to garner as much attention as possible. Though I know it would probably be better that I never know, I can’t resist the urge to hear what he was saying to people.
“No, what DID Joe say when my interview was over?”
The deacon starts snickering. “He said he could never support you because you’d used the Lord’s name in vain”.
“I did what? What in the world did I say?”
My deacon paused for effect.
“After one question, you answered, ‘Gee, I don’t know'”.
Huh?
“Yep, and Joe said ‘Gee’ is really short for God. So that meant you were taking the Lord’s name in vain using substitute words.”
I just stared at him dumbfounded. I’d been deeply grieved over Joe and his family leaving our church. I worried late into the night wondering what I could have done wrong. What frustration I could have avoided if I’d only realized what an irrational person I’d been dealing with. But oftentimes, when people leave the church you never really know why. The accusations almost never come straight to your face. But you’ll still be seen as “running them off” by their friends.
As my notes go further into that week, I see things only got worse. There’s a sudden death in the church family by gunshot wound, and then more drama over the terminated staff member from church members unable to accept the decision.
This is just some of the junk dealt with repeatedly by pastors. And this is nothing compared to what others have experienced.
So here’s the downside of the job: you often don’t sleep, you take responsibility for the spiritual growth of people who often don’t show love back to you. Those people often have unreasonable expectations and insane standards of holiness they thrust upon you and your family. And quite often, you will be run off from the church as a scapegoat for any challenge that church is facing. During all this, you’ll pray for peace while hearing a voice in your head constantly tell you what a failure you are.
Are there harder jobs than being a pastor? Certainly.
Are there more complex, painful jobs that follow you home at night? I doubt it.
It hurts to care for people so much but be misunderstood so badly. Honestly, it’s a job you couldn’t pay me enough to do. But it’s also a calling you couldn’t keep me from doing.
So I hope you’ll excuse me if I ever start scrolling those job ads again. It’s a sort of “Tinder” for pastors. Maybe there’ll be some new jobs posted. There’ll be cute little businesses where all the responsibilities end at 5PM when you leave the office. It looks so tempting and peaceful. And seductive.
“Yeah, baby. You know what I like…”
Pray for me, and all pastors, that we remain faithful to our calling. And maybe some sleep would be nice, too.
