The ministry is spiritual “warfare” and war assumes casualties.
If a pollster had visited with Saint Paul during his travels in Asia when, as he later wrote, “we were so utterly, unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself,” would the great apostle have admitted that he had occasionally considered leaving the ministry? Or what would Gallup have learned from Peter the day he moodily confided to his fellow disciples, “I’m going fishing”? What preoccupied Elijah as he brooded under a desert tree? And how does one deal with Jeremiah’s moan, “O that I had in the desert a wayfarer’s lodging place that I might leave and go away from them”?
You have to believe that each of those men would have admitted that occasionally it occurred to them to throw in the towel. And not to expect the contemporary minister to nurse the same thoughts while in the emotional and spiritual troughs of life would be similar to launching an army into war with no expectation of casualties, desertions, or momentary retreats.
If I am surprised at the response of ministers and priests to the question, “With what frequence have you considered leaving the ministry?” it is only that 29 percent would have claimed that the thought never occurred to them and that as many as 41 percent said “seldom.” I would have predicted a much higher percentage in the “occasional” column. Not because the ministry is such a miserable experience and includes an enormous number of unstable or uncertain people, but rather because the spiritual and emotional pressures often run at such a high pitch.
A further study of the statistics suggests that about one-third of all pastors do ponder the implications of leaving what they thought might be a life work. That figure seems fairly consistent with the overall attrition rate of men and women who have entered the ministry and sooner or later left it for something else in the nonreligious sector.
Why do men and women leave the ministry, a profession often inlaid with special mysteries such as a “call,” the process of ordination, and a position that seems fraught with special intimacy with God? Should we be shocked or overly concerned about the conclusions of the pollster’s question?
A closer look at the participants in the CHRISTIANITY TODAY-Gallup Poll suggests that the preponderant number of those who confided that they thought with some degree of seriousness about leaving have several things in common. First, they tend to cluster as an age group of 30–49, the midlife age bracket. Second, the largest block of those considering withdrawal are to be found in the major denominations. Third, they represent congregations with less than 300 members. And finally, the largest single group also espouses a “liberal” or “neoorthodox” persuasion when it comes to theology.
The age-frame (30–49) should offer no surprise. Men and women below the age of 30 have hardly completed their education and internships in preparation for ministry. And those already involved are doubtless in the earliest stages of performance and remain filled with the excitement and idealism that mark their new world. On the other hand, those over 50 and who remain in ministry are those who have survived and are committed to rounding out their lives in the calling or who—negatively speaking—feel trapped to the point that it is fruitless to seek alternatives.
That a significant number come from denominational orientations may reflect the pinch that results from decline in membership and dwindling opportunities for advancement or enlargement as opportunities shrink. Then again, it could be reasoned, that those who entered ministry with hopes of strong individualistic success may in fact be disillusioned with the discovery that much of their opportunity for advancement depends upon the formal and informal political structures with which they are restless and uncomfortable. It should not be overlooked that the largest group of ministers who indicated that they seldom or never considered leaving the ministry come from among the Baptists.
Among those who brooded about leaving, the highest percentage confessed to theological systems and persuasions that are more oriented toward a naturalistic view of theology and the world. That probably suggests people who have made their choice to enter ministry because of commendable affections for people, because of social service possibilities, or because they possess a strong confidence in the possibilities of a life centered in some sort of personal faith.
I think it is reasonable to assume, however, that the more liberal pastor does not operate from a sense of heaven-sent “call,” nor might he/she feel the sort of thing Paul called an “obligation” to God. I have a feeling that if one traced the so-called liberal minister as he/she left professional ministry and its pulpit activities, one would find an overwhelming percentage shifting to parallel people work, such as professional counseling, community organizational work, and government service in social agencies.
I am among those who are neither surprised nor particularly alarmed at an attrition rate that might hover between 20–30 percent. From a purely spiritual perspective the ministry is a sort of “warfare,” and war assumes casualties. And while every casualty is a cause for grief, it is a fact of life that a highly vulnerable lifestyle, such as ministry, is going to create pressures that lead people toward alternative opportunities.
John Mark left the ministry (temporarily) because he apparently couldn’t stand the strain. Demas—an associate of Paul’s—left because the price of commitment and sacrifice seemed too high. Judas Iscariot switched loyalties because he was restless about the program and its theology. A host of unnamed, would-be disciples forsook Christ and his call because the content of the preaching didn’t fit their preconceived prejudices and convictions.
Of course, it is false to assume that everyone who leaves the pastoral ministry is a sort of Judas, or a personal failure. The local church ministry is not necessarily a lifetime vocation. Many successful pastors have moved on to other denominational and interdenominational ministries. We must leave room for God’s guidance from pastoral to other ministries. “Leaving the ministry,” as far as the poll is concerned, implies leaving a local church pastoral ministry.
Today men and women think to leave the ministry for an array of reasons. Perhaps the most obvious one is that they find themselves unsuited to face the enormous diversity of responsibilities and activities. The question of fitness for the ministry often goes back to the circumstances surrounding a person’s motive for entering the pastorate in the first place. Often one discovers that ministerial dropouts began their careers impelled by an unnatural drive to please a significant individual in their lives: a parent, a mentor, or sometimes even a particularly unique concept of God. Ministry in these cases becomes a quest for affirmation and acceptance.
It is no secret that another parallel objective has been the pursuit of some sort of authority position in which one can enjoy control of a module of people. For many, ministry seems to be the best place in which to pursue such an unhealthy purpose. What is tragic is that it appears to be all too easy for a man or woman with mixed and unsound motives to move through theological training, gain access to a pastoral position, and only then find in the crucible of congregational pressure that what appeared to be an earnest desire to serve God and his people was actually the pursuit of a form of self-fulfillment.
Once into ministry, the first crisis that most often causes ministers to entertain the thought of leaving centers on the discovery that most congregations do not want to change. Highly trained in seminary in the theological systems, taught to think through the logical elements of issues, and exposed to the latest programmatic schemes, the young minister is often confused when he discovers that people are rarely brought to new levels of spiritual performance through persuasion based on logic or reason. His/her youthful idealism forces change and faces the resulting congregational backlash. One has hardly been trained to face the reality of tradition (not always bad), subsurface prejudice, and deeply ingrained habit and attitude patterns. The result is a feeling of total helplessness and leadership impotence, and if the pollster calls at the right moment (usually a Monday morning), he is more often than not liable to hear an admission that amounts to “occasional” or “often” when asked if leaving is ever on the agenda.
It is not an easy matter to assess the impact of marital relationships upon a pastor’s choice to stay or leave his/her post. However, I am going to predict that the growing incidence of pastor’s wives seeking independent careers is going to increase measurably the number of people leaving pastorates. My own experiences suggest to me that working spouses will be unable to give the sort of support and encouragement that is almost always necessary in Protestant pastorates. My friends in the Catholic priesthood will doubtless dispute this, however.
The fact that these are pastors heading into midlife, leading smaller congregations, and claiming something of a liberal position may leave room to suggest that there is some financial pressure tied to their thoughts about leaving. We are talking of people most likely to be facing increased costs due to growing children, working in congregations where the salary scale is likely to be on the lower end, and men or women whose sense of “call” may not be strong enough to urge them to a superhuman endurance on a veritable poverty level.
We live in an achievement-oriented society in which everyone always enjoys the right to make choices about work in order to measurably gain a professional position of greater respect or prestige, higher levels of income, or more power. As a pastor, I find myself frequently rejoicing with lay men and women who shared with me their decision to change jobs because of greater opportunities for advancement or increases in salary. Somehow I am almost always applauding such people and congratulating them (unless the change is detrimental to other priorities).
But who could imagine a pastor saying to his congregation, “I am leaving you for another congregation, which is considerably larger or which has agreed to pay me more”? What is acceptable for a manager in industry does not sound quite right for a minister. I have often been amused with the insight of my pietistic background that causes me to “give glory to God” if I do something well but to accept the unvarnished responsibility when I fail. I speak as the fool when I note that, as a human being, I seem to be losing both ways. But—please understand—I speak only in such a fashion if I have been affected by the drive that has reached almost everyone else: to achieve and gain. And that sort of inner battle can cause pastors to admit to the notion of leaving.
Ministers consider leaving their work behind when they suffer under the internal crises of irrelevance or integrity: irrelevance in that it becomes tempting to assume that the role of Christian leadership is neither needed nor wanted in this secular world; integrity as one wrestles with the seeming gap that regularly appears between matters preached and matters lived. Both crises can beat upon the internal life of the pastor to such an extent that, in the wake of low spiritual and self-esteem, the choice is to seek something that seems more useful or honest.
These are but a few hints of the subterranean thought patterns that run through the mind of the contemporary pastor who candidly admits that he/she has considered leaving the ministry. Perhaps a last question ought to be: What can be done to speak to such an issue?
We might begin by simply accepting a certain amount of selectivity that must work its way through ministerial lives. We cannot, nor should we attempt, to protect pastors from pressure.
Attrition could be retarded, however, if we asked harder questions about the kinds of men and women admitted to seminaries for theological training. The evolution of seminaries from schools of pastoral training to graduate institutions of theology may have led to the frequent admission of the wrong sorts of persons and, in fact, inadvertently precluded the type of person who is most suited for ministry. Those most gifted with sensitivities of pastoral care and communication are not always the top-line students when measured against academic standards. A study of ministerial attrition and its correlations to academic achievement might be an interesting one—perhaps frightening.
Attrition in ministry might be more effectively addressed if there were a vehicle for spiritual support other than the typical professional association. More often than not, the local clergymen’s alliance is nothing more than a gathering of religious professionals who invest their time in little more than surface talk about town politics, social service organizations, and retirement annuities. It seems incredible that men and women whose lives are given over to the service of the faith find it almost impossible to discuss faith with one another at a level where there might be support, mutual prayer, and peer counsel.
The recent renewal of the laity has been a welcomed advance for us all. But a negative side effect may have been the diminution of the role of the pastor in the average congregation. The sense of call, the idea of spiritual authority, the person esteemed as a spiritual leader may be for some congregations a thing of the past. But the result is a minister whose role no longer carries a meaningful punch. Perhaps it is time to recover the role of the pastor and place it in proper juxtaposition with our new insights on the role of the lay person.
The fact of the matter is that our secular society militates against the sense of significance of the spiritual leader. Regarded by many as not much more than an in vocation giver, a member of the library board, and the keeper of a few dusty traditions, the pastor’s role will continue to shrink and create conditions in which ministers find it easy to admit that they consider leaving. But whenever there is resurgence of spiritual priorities and a new awareness of the moral and contemplative aspects of being, the pastor who is in tune with events suddenly rises to the occasion and, affirming his call and marshaling his support, sets forth. And in doing so, he realizes that when called upon to face the real facts, he would never really want to leave.
Carl F. H. Henry, first editor of Christianity Today, is lecturer at large for World Vision International. An author of many books, he lives in Arlington, Virginia.
