Christmas used to be my favourite time of year. As a child and even into my young adult years, Christmas meant family time. It meant vacation. Christmas was about the never-ending stream of amazing meals, baked goods and festivities. There was list of movies to watch and there was the music, of course, which played on a continual loop in the background. It was – at one point – quite literally the most wonderful time of year.
When I became a lead pastor in 2008, after 20 years as an associate pastor, I knew I had a lot to learn about leading a large staff team. So, rather than trying to figure everything out on my own, I reached out to one of my board members for some help. Her job, with a well-known corporation, was working with numerous, diverse teams to show them how to have more effective staff meetings which, in turn, would lead to increased productivity for her company.
The demands that are regularly experienced by pastoral leaders can be overwhelming and soul draining. Studies have shown that the past three to four years have been particularly difficult for most ministry leaders. Today’s leader may find him or herself weary, discouraged and joyless. Yet this is not a post-pandemic phenomenon – King David modelled a godly appeal for divine assistance (a model we attempt to highlight as part of the Focus on the Family Canada’s Kerith Retreats).
“Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Matthew 22:37-39)
Have you ever heard the phrase, “Pastors are people, too”? For the parishioner, this refrain invites them to remember the humanity of those who shepherd them in their churches. It suggests that their pastors are liable to struggle with the same issues that your average person does – a helpful reminder for them to consider easing off on their demands as they consider that their pastor has other things going on.
My mum has always said, “We were called; they were drafted.”
Raised by full-time missionaries, my brothers and I grew up knowing that my parents had been called by God to the life we lived in Quito, Ecuador. I, however, certainly felt drafted! It was not my choice to leave my beloved grandparents in Canada for the mountains of Ecuador. I did not feel “called” to live in a house with bars on the windows, nor did I choose to endure earthquakes, military coups or tear gas drills at school. And I certainly did not feel “called” to live with lizards in my bed or scorpions in the bathroom!
It was 1988 and I was waiting on the tarmac, wondering what it would be like to fly in a 737. I was nervous. I waited until the passenger in the assigned seat next to me sat down and I started a conversation. I was trying to find a distraction, something that would take my mind off the trip, something that would relax me. It didn’t take long for my new friend to take me up on the conversation. Turns out she had a distraction: it was liquid form in a small bottle. She consumed a few of them and it seemed to work for her. For myself, I had no interest in numbing my reality, but rather doing my best to embrace my first flight on a large aircraft. I had been on a smaller plane once before and all was good. Although the bank turns made me grip my seat to make sure I would not fall out of the aircraft. Funny how it made me feel a little more secure. Knees knocking, hands folded to pray, conversation happening with my neighbour who by now had a hard time keeping quiet – I was just nervous to fly. What would make me muster up the courage to get on this flight if I was nervous and afraid?
I sat quietly and listened as the pastor shook his head in both grief and bewilderment. He was desperately trying to make sense of his unexpected, forced termination from the church he had pastored and loved. To add insult to injury, he grieved that there was no effort for a biblical resolution, which, in his opinion, would have addressed some of the issues that the board threw on the table for his dismissal. It was painful to watch as the reality of what he was facing washed over him.
One of the things that makes us uniquely human is the ability to think and reason in our mind. We can process things that are going on with imaginative pictures and possibilities. How many times have you caught yourself staring off into space as you soak in the wonderful indulgence of daydreaming? We longingly think about something that we are looking forward to or we replay a delightful conversation. There is hope-filled anticipation of what is to come and there is joy in remembering what once was.
As the directors of Focus on the Family Canada’s Kerith Retreats, my husband, Marshall, and I have the immense privilege of spending a week every month with pastors, missionaries and para church leaders. No one would deny that the last two years have been filled with unprecedented challenges for leaders as they navigated a global pandemic and the ensuing fallout. Many of them felt overwhelmed by the enormity of the losses they had to face. Some of those losses were ministry related, others were deeply personal. So, we were bracing ourselves for what many were saying was just around the corner: The Great Resignation. Or as others called it, The Big Quit or The Great Reshuffle. There were anxious discussions among denominational leaders about how they were going to fill the gaps that were predicted.