The man on the other end of the phone was a former pastor, now deconverted from his faith. But his voice lacked the triumphant tone of a newly inducted atheist.
“I hope no one does what I did,” he confessed. In a vortex of church conflict and ministry burnout, compounded by adrenal fatigue, he sought escape. First, it was pornography, then escalating alcohol use. “It didn’t feel like hedonism,” he explained. “But I became more and more numb, until I could feel nothing at all.”
I think about that man often. His story echoes that of many embattled pastors I know. While not all face addiction, the temptation to emotionally shut down is pervasive, rooted in a fatigue the ancient desert monks termed acedia. This weariness, more prevalent in an era of unceasing outrage and divided congregations, is not just stress or tiredness—it’s despair.
Identifying this despair is the first step, followed by slow, gradual progress through the ordinary means of grace. For some pastors, however, renewal may not be possible within ministry. The decision to step back and chart a different course, made with careful discernment and self-compassion, should not be seen as a failure but as an act of courage and respect for one’s own well-being.
Renewal is slow, often invisible work, akin to how yeast moves through dough. That’s what this special issue is about: how to navigate these challenges when your congregation relies on you and you feel exhausted. The expectation to appear strong and unflappable weighs heavily on church leaders. How can you admit to being spent when you are the one others turn to for strength? Yet, the promise of Jesus in Matthew 11:28, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” is not just a verse to be preached from pulpits. It is a personal invitation from the Word of God himself, extended to you, to each of us, every single day.
