After serving thirteen years in the youth ministry at Grace Chapel, I became minister of missions. As my youth ministry ended, I thought, Now the letters of affirmation will pour in.
The students and youth staff put on a wonderful appreciation night and gave my wife and me a generous gift. Then it was over. During the next three months, two notes poured in. I relearned the lesson that my desire for public affirmation will always exceed the supply.
If I asked people at my church, "Do you love me?" they would give me a Fiddler-on-the-Roof response: "For all these years we've tolerated your jokes, paid you a salary, approved your budgets, given you an office, watched you grow up — what do you mean, 'Do you love me?' "
I know the people at Grace Chapel love me — like a family. And like a family they don't express it as often as I would like. Like many associate staff and long-term senior pastors, I sometimes feel like a plumbing fixture — people only notice me when something goes wrong or when my service ends. If all works well, little is said.
Compared to others, my situation is actually pretty good. Colin, a colleague in ministry, is never affirmed. The senior pastor tells him that six days per week is not enough. The church leadership reminds him of their disappointment with his programs. Even the young people he works with, who apparently have caught the church's critical spirit, complain about his work.
Colin has persevered, but his self-esteem has been so whittled away that his only option now is to seek another pastoral position. Knowing himself and desiring long-term effectiveness in ministry, he understands that he must leave that church.
All of us need appreciation, some more than others. Certainly, we want to develop the ability to persevere even when the rewards are few and the accolades none. But in the normal course of ministry, we need affirmation. That's the way God made us. So, in addition to courage to trudge through the unusually dry times, we also need to know ourselves, admit where we need affirmation, and do what is necessary to receive it. To that end, here are steps I've taken.
Develop Not-So-Great Expectations
Sometimes we ministers self-destruct because we expect too much. Perhaps we get the impression in seminary that people always will appreciate our noble efforts, or maybe we expect the affirmation that comes during the "honeymoon" in a new pastorate to continue for years. Yet, the more affirmation I expect, the more I set myself up for disappointment.
So I begin by deflating my ballooned expectations and remembering:
- Pride goes before a handshake. As a seminary student, I led weekly services at a nearby nursing home. For my first week of solo leadership, I dressed in my finest sport coat — a bright, plaid coat that I thought made me look quite the professional — and directed worship and preached a brief sermon.
After the service, a spirited lady wheeled herself over to me. I thought, Here comes the feedback, and then prayed, "Lord, give me grace to handle compliments without pride."
"Young man," she began.
"Yes," I responded, holding her hand pastorally with both of mine.
"I never thought I would see the day when a minister would wear a coat like that!" And she wheeled away.
In one sentence I was reduced from worship leader to carnival barker. I was dashed. It's better not to anticipate praise.
- My Zip Code qualifications. A veteran minister once remarked that a younger minister we both knew gave the impression that his underwear was two sizes too tight; his stiff upper lip and deadly serious attitude implied that he expected us to revere him.
Taking myself too seriously leads me to think more highly of myself or my efforts than I ought. I begin to expect others to notice and appreciate me, as well.
Two years ago, I was one of forty Americans invited to an international missions conference. I met a member of the selection committee and asked him the criteria for the invitation. He told me that the primary criterion was missions leadership on a national level. Ha! I thought to myself. Wait until the folks back home hear about this! I could feel the pats on the back already.
"Actually, in your case," the man went on, "you were the only New Englander who applied, so you were invited to give us better nationwide distribution." I was chosen because of my Zip Code.
Laughing at myself — even my own selfish expectations — helps me to keep a sane perspective.
- My colleagues are incomparable. Several years ago, one of my friends was hired as a youth worker in a church whose members enjoyed a high standard of living. Then he met with a group of fellow youth workers and discovered that a colleague who worked in a church like his earned twice as much as he did. My friend nearly quit the ministry.
Although we may need to know how our colleagues at other churches are recompensed (so that our church boards might evaluate our pay fairly), we can get trapped in a web of hurt and anger if we expect salary and benefits to affirm our worth in ministry.
- The grass isn't necessarily greener. When a fellow minister told me of his resignation from his church, he explained, "I guess I'm tired of being taken for granted." I understand fully.
But when he added, "And the church I'm going to has appreciated me more in my two visits with them than my former church has in two years," I wondered if he were not setting himself up for disappointment ahead. As the new church assimilated him and his family, its affirmations likely would wane.
A new church may well appreciate us more than our present one. Certainly, some churches are better at "pastoral care" than others. Then again, even the best of churches will forget to affirm. It's usually better to accept this shortcoming of human nature and get on with ministry wherever we are.
Savor Affirmation when It Comes
At the end of a mission trip my wife and I led, we publicly affirmed something specific about each student. As she affirmed the young women and I prepared to do the same with the young men, I thought ignobly to myself, I hope somebody says something to us when we're finished.
After we closed, there was an awkward silence. Finally, one student blurted out, "Paul and Christie, we love you more than words can express."'
While relieved that someone had spoken, I thought, Please, inadequate as words may be, try to express something! But the meeting was over. The affirmation had been spoken. Being loved "more than anyone could express" would have to suffice. The students did not know how to say more, so we thanked God to know that we were loved.
To put it another way, I've learned to take affirmation when it comes, and take it in the form it comes.
Mark Twain said that he could live two months on one good compliment. We — especially those of us in low-profile, support ministries — are wise to follow his example. While we shouldn't rest on our laurels, it doesn't hurt to turn to past statements of appreciation to help us persevere. This includes recalling a conversation, rereading letters, or copying down an affirming testimony in our journals.
For instance, when I prepare our summer missions teams and start to wonder, Why am I doing this? I go back through old files to read the evaluations of past participants. Their comments about growth in their lives motivate me to continue.
Supplement Generic Ministry
An associate minister in Christian education told me, "Most of my work is maintenance." His comment stirred my thinking about many associate positions. We usually find ourselves maintaining, refining, and improving, but churchwide initiatives and stirring vision seldom come from us. We tend to be leaders of generic ministries, often serving behind the scenes to enable the church to function week to week.
When we do receive affirmation, then, it's often not in proportion to our work. I receive about 85 percent of my affirmation for the short-term service projects I coordinate. Yet they take about 15 percent of my time. On the other hand, preparation and administration of the missions budget takes a fourth of my time and is seldom affirmed.
Generic ministry, then, does not foster consistent or overwhelming congregational encouragement. On the positive side, we stay clear of the attacks senior pastors or top executives incur, but, negatively, we also miss the applause and congratulations accorded to those in visible positions.
Moving beyond the generic, however, can give our ministries new life and affirmation. Preparing an occasional sermon, teaching a Sunday school class, or temporarily helping in another department can build our confidence.
The third-grade Sunday school leaders asked me to speak at the dedication of the new Bibles they were distributing to each student. Although I felt out of my league in addressing this age group, I spoke about the freedom we have to own Bibles, challenged them to obey God's Word, and then prayed. Over the next two months, I received three written notes and two phone calls to thank me for this fifteen-minute event.
Developing a specialization also can help others notice our work. A pastor in charge of evangelism might receive little feedback for the fine training program he has offered for the past eight years, but if he becomes the church specialist on New Age thought, offering occasional seminars on it, he simultaneously meets a need in the church and receives encouragement.
I've seen other colleagues teach premarital classes for engaged couples, start small groups (often based on a specific topic), and speak to groups within the church on specialties ranging from cults to apartheid to dysfunctional families.
Outside speaking, serving on a board, or substitute teaching at a local school are also examples of moving beyond generic ministry. Even when our home base seems silent about our gifts, an extracurricular ministry often gives us much needed affirmation.
Adding something to overtaxed schedules is not always possible, but when it is, the rewards tend to match or exceed the effort.
Solicit Feedback
While in college, I worked the night shift at a warehouse. Every Monday at 1:00 A.M., one fellow, Jack, would burst in and greet everyone with, "Paul, do you like me? Ernie, do you like me? Peter, do you like me?"
Jack speaks for all of us. Each of us is insecure about our relationship at one level or another; each of us finds different ways of asking, "Do you like me?"
Although I've never had Jack's directness, I have become more honest and public about my need for feedback. When I ask people to evaluate my teaching or administration, I not only learn what I could do better but also hear about the things I'm doing right.
A word about timing: Don't invite feedback when you're tired. Don't request feedback about the retreat on the tiring ride home, or a critique of the sermon on Sunday night. I am so tired after our annual, eight-day missions conference that if the staff evaluates it the following Monday, my exhausted mind will let one negative comment outweigh a dozen positives.
Naturally, we never should try to manipulate people into offering affirmation. Nonetheless, feedback can remind us that we are, in fact, loved and appreciated.
Listen to Friends
My wife and my friends have been sources of support when I have been tempted to wallow in self-pity. Some examples:
- When I have felt most useless and ineffective, my wife, Christie, has listed for me the names of individuals who have been significantly affected by my life and ministry.
- When I preached a dismal sermon, Steve reminded me — like Paul to Timothy — to "fan into flame the gift of God" in me (2 Tim. 1:6, NIV). He didn't discount the poor sermon, but he affirmed what he thought were God-given gifts.
- When I belabored the degree to which I felt taken for granted, Christie rebuked me appropriately by reminding me that she, like many church members, rarely got positive feedback on her job.
"No news is good news for most of us," she said.
Dan, an older, wiser Christian, has repeatedly responded to my requests for feedback. His affirming comments have kept me going.
A friend can build us up when we need a word of God's grace and can give an "open rebuke" (Prov. 27:56) as an expression of love. So I make it a point to nurture close friendships, and resist the temptation to do ministry alone.
Set the Appreciation Pace
One Sunday morning I sat next to Bill, a key lay leader in our congregation. During the moments before the service, he was jotting names on a stack of three-by-five cards he had taken from his suit coat. My curiosity got the best of me, so I asked, "Who are these people?"
"These are the people I want to remember to send notes of appreciation to this week," he replied. "I have found that if we desire to see greater affirmation in our ministries, we should be affirmers and encouragers, letting people know how much we are grateful for them. An affirming leadership is more likely to be affirmed."
Bill's lesson stuck with me, and, although I do not succeed in sending notes every week, I try to make sure that people working with me don't feel taken for granted.
Consider the Birds of the Air
Mr. Andrews is a distinguished lawyer. So when he took me behind his home, I was surprised to see he owned rabbits. When I asked why this three-piece-suited gentleman kept rabbits as a hobby, he explained: "After a tough day in court, when nothing seems to be going right and no one seems to like me, it's good to come home and know these rabbits love me just the way I am."
Feelings of being unappreciated can get so intense sometimes that the best we can do is get our minds focused elsewhere. Martin Luther encouraged ministers to meditate on things that "take life blithely — like birds and babies."
Sometimes developing a hobby helps. John Stott, the great British preacher, advocates bird watching: "I have never known anyone to suffer from high blood pressure who takes time to watch birds. Besides, is this not the hobby Jesus commanded: 'Consider the birds of the air'?"
I gain perspective by working in the yard. I can come home discouraged from a difficult day and feel revived by helping a flower thrive, beating back weeds, or even raking leaves. Christie, by petting the cat until it purrs, can lose a day full of frustration.
In the face of the often unquantifiable results of ministry, refinishing furniture, playing with children, taking photos, reading for leisure or exercising physically can provide the mental and spiritual refreshment we need.
Even Among the Best
I once attended a series of classes taught by author and speaker Elisabeth Elliot. Her poignant observations about the application of Christian faith began to shape my thinking. Occasionally — following Bill's example, I suppose — I would send her a note to tell her how affected I had been by her teaching. At the close of the class, she told me how much she appreciated these short notes of encouragement.
"Because of your writing and speaking, you must be deluged by mail like mine," I said.
"No," she replied. "Often the only letters that come are the critical ones."
If that is true with someone of Elisabeth Elliot's stature, maybe it's just part of reality in ministry. Staying motivated without a lot of affirmation can be assisted by the practical ideas suggested above, but perhaps we do best when we realize that insufficient affirmation comes with the turf in ministry.
I asked a ministry veteran of more than forty years how his church appreciated him. "Once every two weeks I get paid," he responded. He believed that the workman was worthy of his wages, and he was satisfied with that. Since we will not receive the affirmation we crave, better to say with Paul: "If we have food and clothing, we will be content with that" (1 Tim. 6:8, NIV).
The ultimate answer, then, is still spiritual: learning to be content because we know that, as ministers, we've been entrusted with ministry not because we deserve it but because God is gracious. The gift of ministry itself is an affirmation worth savoring. Or, as Paul put it in 1 Corinthians 4, "Since through God's mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart."
