PASTORING WHEN YOU'RE OUT OF THE ACTION

My physician put me through several months of tests before finally giving a diagnosis: “You have a little brain tumor.” I was shocked. “Little” or not, I hadn’t expected anything that major.

But almost immediately after the shock came the worry so typical for pastors: What about my congregation? It’s the beginning of Lent. I don’t have time to be sick. We were in the midst of a major building renovation. How can I take time off? Will my illness cost us our momentum?

For more than three years, I had been pastor of a small, integrated, urban church. We had grown, but our position was still precarious. Would we be able to survive this latest crisis?

We did, in fact, survive. If anything, we grew stronger, learning to trust God and one another more. It was not easy, and many hazards along the way were unexpected. Several guidelines, however, emerged that may help other pastors and congregations who face a similar crisis.

We journeyed through three treacherous periods: the time prior to surgery, the hospitalization and recovery, and the return to ministry. Each had its own challenges.

Before leaving the church

Because my tumor was still small, I could wait to schedule surgery until after celebrating Easter with my people. This also allowed us time to prepare for my absence. Several principles helped us through the events to follow.

Â Keep people informed. I gave up-to-date news to our ruling board, the session, through weeks of testing and waiting. I learned on a Friday of the possible pituitary tumor. At a special session meeting on Sunday, I told what I knew. I needed their support and prayers. I also wanted them armed with truth to squelch rumors that might arise.

When the diagnosis was confirmed, I wrote an upbeat letter to the congregation. My session, which screened the letter, suggested I underline that the tumor was not malignant. I had hoped to wait until I could also write about treatment plans, but a panicky phone call from a member concerned about my “gigantic brain tumor” convinced me it was best to send the letter immediately.

I tried always to emphasize the positive and avoid anything that could cause panic. For example, I did not tell them I would be in intensive care four days following surgery, but I did say I would be unable to have visitors. I spoke of a “pituitary tumor” rather than a “brain tumor.” I pointed to how much better I would be able to function following surgery. The session and I joked about their “new and improved” pastor.

Â Cover pastoral concerns. I am fortunate to have a supportive group of ministerial colleagues here in northwest Indiana. They committed themselves to visit our hospitalized members. I also asked our elders to cover one hospital each. Thus, any hospitalized members would see not only a minister, but someone from the church.

I provided the secretary and clerk of session with a list of volunteers so they would know whom to contact should the need arise.

Â Delegate authority clearly. Who would be responsible for the church while I was off? I could not expect one person to handle it all, so I sought people to cover different areas. A colleague with an architectural background agreed to monitor our building renovations. A minister in the congregation would teach the confirmation class and handle miscellaneous pastoral needs. A lawyer accepted the task of tracking paper work on a loan we were seeking. A member of the personnel committee became the contact person for the staff. The session was put on standby to deal with other problems that might arise.

By thinking through potential situations and spreading responsibilities around, numerous people got the opportunity to do something (which they said they wanted), yet no one was overburdened.

Â Maintain all the normalcy possible. I did not want to become the center of attention, so I worked hard at keeping my illness out of the spotlight. I determined to focus worship on God and not the pastor’s problems. I mentioned my illness only twice in our services: once in a sermon on the suffering of Jesus and Paul and again on the Sunday before surgery when I announced the upcoming pulpit guest.

I encouraged the congregation to ask questions and assured them if I was unable to help, I would find someone who could. A virus restricted my visitation schedule prior to surgery, but I used the phone to keep up with people and communicate my concern for them.

Â Plan communication. My family, coming from out of town to be with me, could have been swamped with inquiring phone calls. To protect them from that, we set up a communication network: my parents were to call one elder who would then notify the others. The congregation could call any session member for information about my condition.

During the hospitalization

While I was away, we learned some other lessons.

Â Circumvent bad news. During my hours in surgery, my family met a church member who was picking up her husband from the hospital. They had just learned he had cancer. Later, when the surgeon permitted my family to visit me in recovery, he had no idea they were going to tell me the bad news. Nor did my family realize we had recently lost another member to the same kind of cancer. I wasn’t prepared to handle that news just then.

I was still in intensive care when they brought news that my secretary’s sister had suffered a serious head injury. I am not sure whether I was more distressed about her condition or the status of the office, but less than 24 hours out of intensive care, I took off my oxygen mask to call my secretary and the church member. Both were grateful (and surprised) to hear from me. Although both had been cared for, I could not relax until I spoke with them.

If I had it to do over again (and I hope I never do), I would give my family instructions on whom to contact with problems. They can update me after I get home from the hospital.

Â Limit visitors. Intensive care kept all visitors except immediate family and ministers away for four days. But shortly thereafter, I had nonstop visitors, followed by a nonstop headache. My mother had told the church when I could receive short visits. I wish she had placed more emphasis on short.

Â Delegate-again! A heating contractor had promised to tear out the old boiler and have the new one installed in four working days. He began the week of my surgery, guaranteeing heat the following Sunday. Four Sundays later, the congregation still huddled around space heaters, worshiping in the small chapel.

When I learned of the situation, I was furious. I knew I was in no condition to deal rationally with the contractor, but I knew I could not relax doing nothing. So, I called the minister-architect and asked him to put the fear of God into the contractor. Having delegated that responsibility, I was able to forget about it.

Recovering at my parents’ home, I received a note from a committee member. She wished me well and then filled me in on the abuses taking place in the office. It was nothing new, and there was nothing I could do. I wrote her a note of thanks and acknowledged her frustration, suggesting that we’d leave the matter for the entire committee to address.

The uneasy return to ministry

My biggest surprise was the difficulty of returning to ministry. While absent only six weeks, my skills were impaired nearly six months. But the church continued to function. The members grew stronger and more dedicated. But being away, I didn’t fully realize what was happening.

Once I returned to health, I could not expect them to sacrifice their newfound confidence and skills. I didn’t realize I needed to back off, continuing to trust their skills and the process we had relied on in my absence.

I felt out of control at first. My first Sunday back, Pentecost, we received the confirmation class as members. My second Sunday we celebrated the bicentennial of our denomination. I felt like I had lost two months of my life and wasn’t sure what month it was, let alone what day.

Physically, I still wasn’t 100 percent. I discovered my inability to get up on Monday mornings. Medications had caused my arthritis to flare up, and we had to reschedule our regular Monday staff meetings. I discovered some relief by working alternate days, and spent a morning in bed with the heating pad for each day of ministry.

Problems accompanied my return. While everyone seemed concerned that I not push myself too hard, a great deal of anger came out sideways. A sick staff member complained dramatically about our insensitivity. Conflicts arose in meetings over minor issues. An officer hung up on me, frustrated with an administrative problem.

My congregation assumed administrative and leadership tasks in my absence, increasing in self-confidence. Generally that was good, but they also became more willing to oppose my opinions, which required an adjustment on my part.

Looking back I see I should have used my calendar more, getting an overview of what had happened in my absence and what would occur in the next few months. I should have asked people to catch me up on events.

I should also have offered more public recognition to all who had carried the extra load. I could have expressed my appreciation in worship services, newsletters, and personal thank-you notes. I should have rejoiced with them over the success they had conquering the difficulties.

All in all, I believe I am a better pastor because of my illness. I am more sensitive to the needs and fears of the sick. I am better able to budget my time and prioritize my ministry. My congregation is less dependent on me and more self-confident. Not only did the congregation get a “new and improved” pastor, I got a “new and improved” congregation.

Rather than costing us momentum, the whole experience strengthened us for the continuing challenge of ministry.

-Wendy S. Pratt

First United Presbyterian Church

Gary, Indiana