What's an Honest Day's Work in Ministry?

(Jim was the pastor of a rural parish. Many of his parishioners raised dairy cattle, and their day began around 4:30 A.M. preparing for the first milking.

“If a farmer drove by my home at 6 A.M. and did not see my lights on, I would hear about it, ” Jim remembers. “I realized to be effective in this setting I would have to set my alarm much earlier.”

Shortly after Larry began his ministry, one longtime member paid him a visit. “Be careful of this place,” he warned. “Perhaps you noticed the portraits of past ministers in the hallway. All but one are dead. No one will say outright you have to work harder, but we cheer our pastors into the grave. If you don’t put limits on your own schedule, no one else will.”

Kevin, the associate pastor of an inner-city church, grew up without a father and was determined to be a good father to his three young sons. “I let the church know from the beginning that I would sit one Sunday a month with my family in the service. I take one day a week just to be with my boys and give my wife a break. One evening a week is our date night. One day a month I volunteer in their classrooms at school. I’m willing to work hard for the church, but I won’t sacrifice my family. The church agrees that this often fatherless community needs a positive role model of a committed husband and dad.”

As Jim, Larry, and Kevin illustrate, an “honest day’s work” in ministry has no exact definition.

LEADERSHIP contributing editor Bob Moeller asked seven pastors how they defined it. Their answers were as unique as the individuals.)

AN EXAMPLE OF HARD WORK

By Ed Dobson

When I was a young pastor in the mountains of Virginia, a retired minister who attended the church gave me some sage advice.

“Here’s what you need to do, boy,” he said earnestly. “Get your car in front of the church at 8:00 every morning so when everybody goes to work they can see you’re working. Then, you can go fishing if you want, but make sure your car is back by 4:30 so they see it on their way home.”

That may have been bad advice, but it makes a great point: if people don’t think you work hard, they won’t respect you.

When I first came to this church, the congregation felt that some of our staff lacked motivation and a good work ethic. Several staff members took Saturday off plus one other day during the week. They didn’t keep regular office hours.

In the culture of this area, which has a strong work ethic, such casual regard for appearances was a big mistake. Our board included many professional people who regularly put in fifty hours at their work, spent most of Sunday at church, plus volunteered significant time in various ministries.

It upset them to watch staff members going and coming as they pleased.

My first week here I told the staff, “If you want to take Saturday off, that’s fine. But you will show up the rest of the week at 8:30 A.M. and stay until 5:00 P.M. If you have evening meetings, consider that your volunteer time-just like all the other people in the meeting do.”

An honest day’s work is a minimum of eight hours. I work about fifty hours a week, then in addition try to give as much time to the church as an average lay leader. I ought to work at a level equal to the average person on the board.

However, my rule is not to spend more than four evenings a week away from home: Saturdays (our outreach service), Sundays (our evening worship), Wednesdays (our midweek service), and one other evening (for board meetings).

I decline all other evening meetings; if a committee decides to meet anyway, they know they’re going to do it without me. Pastors must know their limits and communicate them to the leadership.

Recently I told the board, “I’d like permission to fire most of the staff, shut down 80 percent of the programs, and cut back to a smaller congregation with one service on Sunday morning.” They knew I was joking, but behind the jest was a serious request for help. That began a process. They selected several men to meet with me, explore my schedule and pressures, and help reorganize the staff to redistribute the work load.

“I’ve been at this for seven years now,” I told the board, “and every time you crank it up a notch I say, ‘No problem.’ Now I feel as though I’m slowly drowning. I’m not burned out, but I’m living on the edge. I sense the joy going out of ministry.”

Several responded, “We’ve seen this coming for about six months. We were just wondering when you would notice.”

Boards will help you if you ask for it, but they might let you go under before they say something. You need to take the responsibility of caring for yourself.

Perhaps my most significant realization in the last two decades is that prayer and study should be a part of an honest day’s work. Early on I thought it was knocking on doors, making phone calls, and doing, doing, doing. Now I sense the importance of being. If I haven’t spent time with God, I haven’t put in an honest day’s work.

STAY SPIRITUALLY SHARP

by Sharon Williams

The most important question to my people is not “How much does Pastor Williams work?” but “Does she love us?”

My congregation expects me to be their spiritual leader. The only one counting work hours around here is me, and that’s when I get into a “fleshy” mindset. The hours I work don’t mean much because anything significant is accomplished supernaturally, not by human efforts.

More often than I care to admit, the Adversary convinces me, “It all depends on you, Sharon. Work harder, work harder, work harder.” Hoping I will work myself to death, Satan attacks my insecurities and my need for approval.

Yet if I’m going to be God’s tool, I don’t want to be a dull instrument. When I allow stress or weariness to dull my spiritual edge, it impacts everything.

Jesus has never told me that I’ve failed to do enough for him. From time to time, he has said, “Rest in me.” Christ wants me to live an abundant life–refreshed and working in his power, not my own.

Church people do notice I spend a lot of time at the office. Administration fills most of my day. We operate a day-care center but don’t have the money for needed support staff. I don’t even have a secretary. So I end up doing paperwork, typing, bookkeeping, training. … I’ve been turning over more and more of this work to people I’ve trained, but it’s a slow process. This year, things will change. There will be a secretary at our church.

Whenever I get in over my head with administrative and other tasks, there is, of course, the temptation to start praying less because I don’t have as much time for “spiritual” things. But that is the time to start praying more, because praying less is likely the source of my problems.

From Sunday after church until Tuesday around noon, I take my Sabbath. If I get too many interruptions during this time a reminder in the church bulletin (Monday is Pastor Williams’s day of rest. ) will take care of that. It did take a while for the church (and me) to accept and get used to my not being around on Mondays, but everyone seems to cooperate now, and unless it’s an emergency, Monday is my day to be a wife and a child of God.

I’m supposed to take a month of vacation annually, but I’ve never been able to do that. Two weeks is the most I’ve taken at one time. Last summer I went on a two week vacation and returned before I fully relaxed. I was in bad shape. But for the grace of God I would have said and done some mean things. I was a dull instrument.

When I get really stressed out, I cancel all appointments and take a day or two to stay home, watch “Oprah,” eat junk food, and ignore the phone. It’s not a spiritual retreat, but I end up refreshed.

Conversely, I know I’ve been coasting when Sunday comes and my time is jammed up and I’m not rested and prepared. My authority to pastor grows out of the preaching moment. Everything I do during the week points in that direction. If I’ve been sloughing off on preaching, I’ve been sloughing on everything.

That’s when I know it’s time to get back to Jesus, and, thank God, he’s there waiting for me . … all the time.

PERFORMING THE STRATEGIC

by John Scheaffer

I am the founding pastor of a church begun two years ago, and the people don’t have set expectations about how hard the pastor should work, at least none put down in writing.

My conviction is that a good day’s work not keeping a hectic schedule; it’s doing what I’m supposed to be doing. A good day’s work begins by prayerfully planning what needs to be done and then disciplining myself to do those things.

Fifteen years ago when I imagined becoming a pastor, I envisioned preaching, making calls, having coffee with people, and performing occasional funerals and weddings. That doesn’t describe reality any more.

There’s such a strong emphasis on church growth that a pastor must constantly be strategizing how to keep the church moving forward. Leadership takes an enormous amount of time and energy that doesn’t always show on a time card.

In the beginning of our church, others perceived me as the one person who knew something about everything that was happening. I had two hundred people performing the tasks of a new church and calling me for advice. They were excellent leaders, but they felt they should consult me on everything from curriculum to room arrangements.

With no paid office help, I often answered phones, gathered articles for the newsletter, led planning meetings, picked up the mail from the post office, did a pre-service sermon for the Sunday school workers, preached the children’s sermon, preached the main sermon, helped set up for Easter productions, and on and on.

A month-long time audit showed I was putting in 55-hour weeks. I felt constantly on the run.

But I can’t determine by counting hours whether I’m working hard. I have to examine what I’m doing with those hours. I could spend a tremendous amount of time fiddling with a computer or socializing on the phone or running errands that may not count for much.

So if I’m not doing something challenging that day, I’m probably not earning an honest day’s living. Difficult things include taking a major portion of my time for a hospital visit across town, disciplining myself to do long-range sermon planning, returning unpleasant phone calls, working on the vision of the church, and prayer.

Neglecting sleep can easily become a mode of operation. I should sleep six to seven hours, but at times I average five to six. The best time to exercise is when my family is asleep, so I get up early and trade off sleep for exercise. (I do my best thinking during and after, so I don’t like to miss it.)

I take a day off during the week, plus about half of Saturday. On Sunday I’m usually up at 4:00 A.M. (I’m a morning person), preparing for ministry and by noon have put in what feels like a full day. Often I return after lunch or in the evening for meetings.

I feel strongly that Bible study and prayer can be done “on company time.” I used to feel guilty about that; after all, the guy in the pew can’t take time on the job for devotions. But time with God is too important for a pastor to neglect. It may sound crass, but people are paying us to study the Bible in-depth so we can speak with authority and from experience. We can’t afford not to develop intimacy with God.

TO LIVE IS TO WORK

by Robert Johnson

Ours is a middle to upper-middle class congregation, in the central area of Bakersfield, with 1,000 people attending on Sunday morning. I’ve been in ministry forty years.

When God called me into ministry, I became friends with a man who worked tirelessly for God and was intensely committed to people. He has been a model for me. In addition, I’m the kind of person who needs to be doing something all the time in order to feel fulfilled. I’ve never handled free time well.

I’ve been able to get by with five or six hours of sleep a night, sometimes less. I often work until 2:00 A.M., and most mornings I’m up by 7:00. Do I need more sleep? Yes. I don’t mean to take God for granted or gamble my health, but I do have a high energy level and a strong constitution.

I’m driven by a sense that people have great needs, and I need to be available to them. I’m driven by a sense of mission and how little time I have to accomplish it.

Despite my schedule, our family is close.

All four of our children are committed Christians, and much of the credit goes to my wife. Though I wish I had spent more time with them than I did, we always took vacations together, and I found time to attend their baseball, hockey, and soccer games. I do, however, hope my children will spend more time with their children.

I seldom take a day off, which isn’t smart or biblical, but when I go too long without time off, my wife lets me know that joy is lacking in my life. I don’t get short with people, but I often become too burdened, intense, and weary.

I don’t spend more than twenty minutes a day in personal devotions, but I do try to commit two hours a day to prayer. That’s ministry time because I’m praying for the leadership, the congregation, those without Christ, and for missions, and people’s needs in general.

Until the Lord calls me home, I want to do all I can with the strength I’ve been given. The work of God and the needs of people are too great to offer anything less.

HEAD OF FAMILY IS NEVER OFF DUTY

by David Coffin

In a small, rural parish, putting in an honest day’s work means being a conscientious member of an extended family. Families don’t keep records on each other or punch clocks, but family members expect you to be there when they need you.

When someone is facing surgery, for example, people expect that I’ll arrive beforehand, pray with the patient, stay at the hospital until the operation is over, and then stand with the family as they hear the surgeon’s report.

While a pastor in a larger suburban church might get by with stopping in for a few minutes for a quick prayer with the family and then dashing on, that doesn’t cut it here. People expect me to give my entire day if necessary until the crisis passes.

My first spring in the community, I worked myself to a frazzle during the Lenten season. I planned to leave town for a long-awaited vacation a few hours after the Easter service.

Just as I was sitting down to my Easter dinner, I received a phone call. A member of my congregation had just died. That afternoon it dawned on me: I wasn’t a CEO with guaranteed vacation time. I was a member of a family, and when the family needs you, you’d better come a-runnin’.

The extended family analogy applies as well to church administration. I usually run the church from my kitchen table. There I make phone calls, entertain guests, and write sermons.

In a rural area, a pastor needs to understand not only the family mindset of the church but also the cycle of the seasons. Ministry in this setting tends to be feast or famine.

Some weeks during the summer l wonder why the church even employs a full-time pastor. Apart from church on Sunday, vacation Bible school, and a few home visits, my people don’t want me to do much. Everyone is on vacation or working their fields. Giving, attendance, programming–everything slows down.

But the situation changes dramatically during the “purple seasons,” Advent and Lent. I put in fifty to seventy hours a week and barely have time to find the restroom. I usually don’t take my one day off per week. In addition to a full calendar, it seems that these seasons are the times crises arise, families fall apart, and our food bank is taxed to the maximum.

I came here with a desire to be super pastor. My first year after seminary, I tried to start a youth group, get involved in all the community activities, and march around town in my collar letting everyone know I was a real pastor.

I pushed myself so hard I got hepatitis and was bedridden for a month. Finally one of the church council members gently said, “Pastor, we’re a small church. We don’t want you to kill yourself. Remember, there’s only so much we can do. I discovered the church didn’t want “robo-pastor.” I cut the frenetic activity.

That was a rude awakening for me. In seminary I learned if you work hard enough and keep pushing, the finances and people would eventually come. But my rural county has twenty-two Lutheran churches and only so many people to go around. When I do receive new members, it’s usually at the expense of another church.

The hard reality I had to accept: this is a ministry of scheduled maintenance. People want me to run things one year at a time. If I try to do much more, they’ll watch me, they’ll listen to me, but they won’t do more than they’ve always done. Ministry here is a lifestyle.

LIVING WITH LIMITATIONS

by Calvin Havens

My philosophy of an honest day’s work is divided between B.C. and A.C.: before cancer and after cancer.

I began ministry here in June 1990. I was in my late thirties, filled with energy and vision for the future, which struck a responsive chord with people. We doubled our attendance and launched a building program.

During this time I worked five-and-a-half to six days a week. I would get right to work in the morning, eat lunch with someone from the church, spend the afternoon studying and making visits, catch supper, and then go back to church for a meeting or make more calls.

Then in July 1992, while preaching in the early service, I began to suffer searing pain in my lower abdomen, as if I were in vice grips.

I turned pale, began sweating, laid down, and finally passed out on stage. Several members rushed me to the hospital, where doctors diagnosed the problem as an infection. A week later I returned for more tests and for the first time doctors suggested it could be a tumor. Two weeks after passing out during worship, I underwent surgery.

People responded with sympathy and understanding. A lay leader said, “Calvin, we need you, and we need you healthy. Do whatever it takes to get well.”

Everything went better for the next nine months. Then the day after Easter my doctor said blood tests revealed the cancer might have recurred. Six weeks later he said, “Calvin, you have to start chemotherapy. We can’t take any chances.”

Until then I had been on the road to regaining my old schedule, trying to prove to everyone I could maintain my old level of involvement. I was fearful of losing the ground I had worked so hard to gain.

It was more difficult to maintain any type of normal schedule once I began chemotherapy. The first week I had chemotherapy nine hours a day. After the first cycle I was able to return to the office for two or three days a week.

For most of the summer, I was in a fog, enduring memory loss, fatigue, and nausea. I never felt on top of things. I only missed one Sunday, though several Sundays I preached feeling sick.

During this time, the congregation encouraged me with cards and never complained. Despite my illness, we ended with the best summer attendance ever. Perhaps people were showing me extra support; perhaps God was teaching me a lesson. In any case, I now understand the strength of the laity. The same week I began chemotherapy, we started our second building program. The people took charge of the entire project.

We’ve all grown through this experience. People have learned they can do more than they thought they could, and I’ve learned to delegate and to relax when things don’t go right.

I’m now back to 80 percent of my normal level of energy, and the doctors have assured me they don’t anticipate that this type of cancer will recur.

I once believed I had to burn the candle at both ends, or the candle would go out. Now I see that Christ will build his church whether my light shines brightly or not. Even when I haven’t been able to put in an honest (read, full) day’s work, I’ve learned the truth of Jesus’ words, “My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I, too, am working” (John 5:17).

REDEFINING THE ROLE

by Noel Castellanos

I pastor a newer church in a Hispanic community. We have a multi-cultural congregation composed of Anglos, Mexican-Americans, and Mexican immigrants. The church has busy professionals, middle-class families, and poorer individuals new to the country.

With such a mixture of cultures comes a mixture of expectations regarding what an honest day’s work in ministry looks like. Ten- to twelve-hour days are common for me, but that’s more a reflection of my desire to see the church established than of others’ expectations.

Ours is a Catholic community where the priest visits the home and participates in significant family events and holidays, so I’m expected to be the symbol of the church at baptisms, weddings, and funerals, as well as other social events including birthdays, anniversaries, and graduations. (Some days I’ve wondered how many meals I could eat in one 24-hour period.)

People compare my ministry with that of the Catholic priests, even though the priests are celibate and I have a family.

Sometimes I feel caught between others’ expectations and what I can realistically give. My oldest child, age six, has said to me several times, “Daddy, why do you come home and then leave right away again?” I’m reminded of the need to spend extended periods of time with my kids.

Still, ministry gives me some flexibility that other fathers don’t have. Recently when my son started preschool, I was the only father there for the first day of classes.

To balance ministry and family, I need constant communication with my wife. When I have a difficult week ahead, we sit down and review it in advance. Otherwise she ran find herself blind-sided by my schedule.

If I don’t give her and the kids the time and attention they need, I will lose my credibility in the church. Even if everyone else says I’m doing great if my wife doesn’t think so, then I’m not.

One weekend everything crashed together. My wife was due to deliver our third child. Our summer youth program was formally coming to an end with a celebration with parents. And a leadership conference with Hispanic leaders from around the country was being held. Several days in a row I was gone by 6:30 A.M. and home at 9:00 P.M. I tried to call my wife several times a day. If my mother-in-law hadn’t been there, my family would have melted down entirely. Somehow we made it. (Our baby was born just before the leadership conference ended.)

I am learning to draw the line. At the end of that marathon, we planned an eight-day vacation, but just as I was walking out the door, someone called with a major problem.

“Can you see me before you go?” the person asked.

“No, but you can call one of the elders,” I replied. Not only did our family need the time away, but I needed to model to the congregation that families should take vacations together.

I don’t plan to maintain this pace. When we can add more staff, I plan to take a full day off each week. But this is the job I’ve chosen, and I love doing it. It doesn’t seem like work. That’s both the danger and the blessing.

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