Tales of Midlife Ministry

It feels like it happened quickly: first seminary, then marriage and babies, pastoring a church, and the stuff of life in between. I was married in 1981, graduated from Princeton Theological Seminary and became a father in 1982, and was leading a church by 1983. So something always filled the empty spaces of my life—the voices of my children, the highs and lows of ministry, and daily parish life.

Then I blinked, and our three daughters had grown up and left the safety of our home for college and marriage and to make uniquely blessed lives of their own. Things quieted, and I struggled with the new mathematical configuration of my family home, reduced now to two. That’s when my physical health began to feel the impact of my expanding waistline and a sometimes uncooperative maturing and aching body.

Middle age. For some, those two simple words can instill fear. All of us have heard stories from friends about someone in the midst of midlife and the shiny new sports car. In an effort to tell stories that truly speak to the needs of pastors, I interviewed a number of faith leaders who were willing to share their midlife stories with me (when referring to them, I use pseudonyms). They shed their invisible, clerical robes and were bold and brave in their confessions. Their stories have value because all of us can learn from their experiences to develop solutions to better manage our own lives and our own ministries.

Jarman: Favor ain’t Fair

One pastor spoke of a personal and professional “perfect storm,” the confluence of extraordinary events crashing together catapulting him into a crisis shortly after a parent died. This minister, Jarman, had children leaving for college, a wife who had her own work to do, and a significant church project in the making. None of those issues were in the sphere of his ability to govern or relate, so he started to spin out of control.

“I came up in a family that was out of control,” he said. “Therefore, my response when I became grown was to take control of everything: my environment, my house, myself, my wife, my kinds. [With the family member’s death] my natural response was to take control. But at that point, I had to admit I wasn’t in control …. I was functionally depressed. The church was growing, but I was not emotionally or spiritually there. I was preaching every Sunday, but it was angry preaching.

“One time during our men’s revival, the preacher was preaching, but it was so hollow for me. Nothing was wrong with his message, but it was hollow for me. I said to myself, ‘I don’t want to hear this [expletive].’ And I walked out and left. The amazing thing is that nobody realized anything was wrong …. My whole world was spiraling …. This was the first time in my adult life I was alone as a man, and the sisters from the congregation were coming out of the woodwork to ‘help’ me in any way I wanted.”

This pastor, a phenomenal preacher, teacher, and theologian, began to drink, something he did not normally do, to soothe what he could not. “It’s possible this was an alcoholic season in my life,” he said. “I did not go to therapy or talk to a friend. I couldn’t call my pastor because I was the favored son. I was Joseph. How does the favorite son go to his pastor and say, ‘Favor ain’t fair’? I couldn’t tell my church because they needed me to be strong. I couldn’t tell my officers because that would put my job in jeopardy. I realized then that there are some things worse than dying. One of them is at the moment of death to realize you were never truly loved because you were never really known. That changed me and allowed me to begin to be authentically who I am today.”

Junior: Signs of Transition

A close preacher friend of mine, Junior, said he knew midlife was approaching when his memory started slipping and his “sensitivity gauge” was on constant high alert. “That was a huge factor for me,” he said. “I used to be able to remember numbers easily; now when people give them to me, I have to write them down. Also, now I am more aware of my emotions, and how I’m feeling inside is an important indicator. I am used to having emotional feelings, but they weren’t all that important to me. Now I appear to be much more sensitive to what I am feeling emotionally. I even think emotionally.”

Emotions. Those are tricky things for most men. Somewhere in the universe of statistical data there is a numerical indicator about middle-aged men being suicidal and not even knowing why. Perhaps that is the greatest and most disturbing aspect for men, and for our purposes specifically pastors, struggling with their midlife transitions. We know clearly something is happening to us, to our bodies, our sense of self and how we maneuver through space. What we do not know is how to explain it or how to talk about it, because for most of us it has not been part of our male nurturing, theological training, or maturation process. Regrettably, men will simply suffer in silence, sometimes resulting in irreparable and devastating consequences, when in fact there is no need to agonize alone.

Jericho: Filling the Void

When I talk with ministerial colleagues who are going through rough times, I urge them to bear their “stuff” to a counselor. That is what I did, and I unreservedly recommend it as a first steppingstone on the journey. Whether sought from a fellow member of the clergy or from a professional therapist, counseling may not be the easiest choice, but it is one of the wisest.

In an effort to get through his own midlife onset, another minister, Jericho, told me that he turned to a spiritual director, a faith-based counselor who acts as a guide, to find footing in his life. He felt it necessary to tell his story to someone else in order to heal what he could not see or define.

“My piece was triggered when I finished my doctor of ministry degree and I just felt a void,” Jericho said. “Our denomination provides us an opportunity to get some level of counseling. I knew something was wrong [with me], but I didn’t know what it was. It was revealed to me for the first time in counseling that I had completed all my education, and once I finished, it left a void. That void was going to be filled with unhealthy activity, I was sure.

“At that point, I definitely knew something was wrong with me and I had to do something. The physical changes—I wasn’t working out as much as I used to. The ministry was taking off and doing well, and because of that, I was a little bored. So I filled the void by getting spiritual direction. I have a spiritual director who helps me to see God moving in my life. Spiritual direction has been the best thing that ever happened to me …. It has been a powerful experience.” Jericho found a path that worked and allowed him to rebuild, reconnect, and restore.

Harcourt: A Square Peg in a Round Hole

One middle-aged preacher, Harcourt, was the oldest but smallest in size of his siblings, whom he raised. He grew up in what he called a “divorced and fractured family” and was always in pursuit of approval and praise, though for him it was an elusive search. “I think [growing up] I had always been an overachiever, trying to hear the approval of my mother, others, and my peers,” he said. “I never envisioned myself being a mega-church pastor … and having experienced instantaneous success gave me the false satisfaction of having arrived. But when I looked around, my peers didn’t acknowledge that growth and that success. One preacher told me that my preaching style was nonlinear.”

“Another preacher helped me understand why I don’t fit, why I don’t get invited to preach, and why I don’t fit in with the clique,” Harcourt said. “He said, ‘It’s hard to be around the authentic when you are inauthentic.’ He reminded me that it was OK to not fit. I am just beginning to settle into the fact I am not going to fit and I may not be on the preaching circuit or the televangelist circuit. But I have settled into the call God has given me to be local pastor, and my job is to build up my community and to live out my purpose for my generation. I have finally settled into that, but it has been very hard, very lonely, and very painful.”

This minister’s midlife struggles stemmed from unfulfilled affirmation as a child. Later on, as a pastor, he found himself looking for approval in what could be called the darker side of ministry, and he pacified and appeased himself the only way he knew how, with secret sexual relationships. Those actions, though, put him in a direct and personal spiritual battle with his beliefs, between what he preached and how he was living. He eventually sought help and made his midlife confusion work.

Finding your Own Trail

Although our stories differ, the pain is the same. The Christian men who trusted me with their tales are a group of insightful, talented preachers and teachers who have grappled with their issues but are working on transforming to better their ministries. Each one of them found his own trail. King David wrote psalms, poetry set to music, to ease his pain. I talked through my problems, and I continue to confide and confess what presses on my heart.

I think I will always long for the sound of my daughters when they were young. But things change, and life is not a stagnant, steady state. Emotional and psychological transitions need to be seen for what they are and should not be looked upon lightly. When midlife calls, there are real issues that need attention and answers. We all bear burdens. Bottom line: preacher, prophet, or priest, going it alone is a lonely and thorny road, and one that does not have to be taken. Opening up to another person requires trust, and trust can be hard to come by. But finding a level of trust can make all the difference in managing midlife.

Excerpt from Midlife, Manhood, and Ministry (Judson Press, 2013).

Donald Hilliard Jr. is senior pastor of Cathedral International in New Jersey.