In conjunction with our most recent print issue of Leadership Journal, an exploration of the State of the Pastorate, we asked a series of pastors a simple question: what is the current state of your pastorate? The full collection of essays will be updated throughout the week.
What’s the state of your pastorate? Let us know online through tweets, blogs, drawings, or smoke signals. Include the hashtag #mypastorate, and we’ll feature our favorites in a post next week.
“We need to talk.” I’ve learned to dread those words. I usually hear them from a colleague in my region of the country who is struggling, burning out, or needs to confess a moral failure. They’re calling because I currently chair one of nine “ministerial committees” for my denomination, charged with oversight of churches and ministers in a 13-state region. Their stories are all different.
One pastor of a rapidly growing church puts in 80-hour work weeks alongside a female member of his staff. They’ve become too close. Boundaries get fuzzy. They have an affair. Another pastor walks into a deeply conflicted church, fails to do the hard work of active listening, runs afoul of the powerful women’s ministry guild, and is fired within months of his arrival. Another long-term pastor suffers from a significant health issue, forcing him to take early retirement. However, he cannot stay away from the church and thus causes all kinds of headaches for the pastor who replaces him. Still another pastor struggles with depression brought on by the pressures of ministry. He sees a counselor, goes on anti-depressants, and eventually leaves the pastorate.
The temptation is still there to dive into everything, to fix every problem, face every crisis, put out every fire.
The root issues: Lack of healthy boundaries. Failure to take time off and attend to one’s personal spiritual life. Inability to stay self-differentiated. Driven by the unhealthy need to “succeed.” The list goes on. And it’s not just pastors in my denomination. According to The New York Times, “Members of the clergy now suffer from obesity, hypertension and depression at rates higher than most Americans. In the last decade, their use of antidepressants has risen, while their life expectancy has fallen. Many would change jobs if they could” (Aug. 1, 2010). Forbes magazine lists “Pastor” among its nine toughest leadership roles (Feb. 25, 2014). Says one pastor interviewed, “You’re scrutinized and criticized from top to bottom, stem to stern. You work for an invisible, perfect Boss, and you’re supposed to lead a ragtag gaggle of volunteers towards God’s coming future. It’s like herding cats, but harder.”
Leading God’s people is a hard job. It’s a story as old as the Bible. Moses struggled with feelings of inadequacy. Think how Samuel must have felt after leading Israel for almost all his adult life only to have them reject him at the end. Elijah struggled with depression under the broom tree, and right after experiencing the greatest ministry success of his life! How many of us have felt the Spirit move powerfully through us on a Sunday morning only to collapse on the couch in despair Sunday afternoon?
I get it. I’ve had the privilege of pastoring for almost 15 years now. I am no stranger to the pressures pastors face. Early in my career I was in serious danger of becoming a statistic. I was the solo pastor of a small church looking for revitalization. I came with vision and passion and threw myself into everything those first two years. Led every committee. Visited every home. Started new ministries. Met with community leaders. Evangelized the lost. Preached every sermon except when I was on vacation. And after two and a half years, numbers were up. Dollars were up. The church was getting younger and more diverse. Our church calendar was full.
Meanwhile, I was dying inside. The pace was killing me. I was burning out. I remember looking in the mirror one day and asking myself, “How am I going to keep this up for the next 40 years?” I made an appointment with a counselor the next day. We met a few times and had a lot of great conversation, much of which I have forgotten. However, one question he asked hit me between the eyes and, I believe, saved my ministry: “Who are you trying to impress?”
I remember looking at him speechless. I had no answer. No good answer at least. As we talked it out, it dawned on me that all of the energy I was spending was an attempt to make people like me, to win the respect of my peers, and ultimately, deep down, to earn God’s approval as well.
I wish I could say things have gotten easier over the years. They haven’t. The pressure to perform has only grown, more so now that I am the lead pastor of a growing multi-staff church. The temptation is still there to dive into everything, to fix every problem, face every crisis, put out every fire. I love being involved in a variety of things and have to restrain myself from taking on too much. For example, in addition to my role as pastor and my work with our denomination, I also travel to Ethiopia every year to train church planters and serve as adjunct professor at a local seminary. Yes, I have a tendency to burn the candle at both ends.
At the same time, I’ve learned some things that help keep me from veering too far off course.
First, I pay attention to God and maintain a daily devotional time that is not rushed or interrupted. Typically, I am in early enough that I am the only one around the building. I don’t even turn on my lights. I sit in my favorite chair. I look out my window at the Rocky Mountains. I open my Bible. I spend time in prayer. And I journal faithfully. This time keeps my heart centered on Christ, and I would be lost without it.
Second, I listen to my wife and children to make sure we are getting enough time together. Recently, we made the decision as a family not to take on Saturday ministry commitments unless it is an emergency. Saturday mornings are probably the only regular time we get as a family due to all the different activities our children are involved in. This is precious, sacred time. Vacations are spent completely unplugged. We road trip so my wife and I get hours of “windshield time.” When one of my children began to struggle in school two years ago, I backed way off of my commitments. He and I went to counseling together. We learned together. It was just one example of many where maintaining healthy boundaries by keeping my family as my “first ministry” has paid off. There is always an internal pressure to do more in ministry. It’s death by a thousand cuts, and I have to say “no” frequently for the sake of my own health and the health of my family.
However, left to myself, I would fail miserably so the third thing: make myself accountable to the elders of our church. They regularly look over my schedule, check in with my wife, and talk to our church administrator about the pace I am setting. I include them in the conversation when new opportunities are presented so I don’t get pulled in too many directions. I submit to an annual review that both character-based and task-oriented. It’s a very honest process, and I do my best to humbly receive their feedback. It’s not easy to let others hold this kind of authority over you.
“Humble submission” is not one of my spiritual gifts so we have to work hard to build the trust we need to make this work. We have successfully fostered an environment of vulnerability and mutual submission. Our primary aim is not the business of the church but to seek the mind of Christ together. Because I know these men and women intimately and because they know me, I trust them when they tell me I am doing too much.
Christ. Family. Community. These are the keys to long-term health in ministry.
Doug Resler is pastor of Parker Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Parker, Colorado.
