Does the regular, busy, anxious person in the church know what it feels like to soak in the loving gaze of God?
What is it like to “be still, and know”?
What does the movement of the Spirit “guiding me into all truth” feel like?
I almost hugged the new furnace when it arrived at our home. We’d been without heat for about eight days and it was the middle of winter (OK, a Lower Mainland winter but for us in BC, it was cold). My husband, son, dog and I had all been sleeping in the same room in the hopes that our collective body heat would keep us warm throughout the night. While the hardwood floors creaked as our townhouse heated up quickly, I appreciated not wearing various layers of clothing to keep my teeth from chattering.
Dear Pastor,
Are you tired of being the only one in your church who reaches out to the broken-hearted?
A pastor spends hours researching a sermon, then someone in the church challenges one of the main points. A pastor prays for months about a new vision, then someone in the church disagrees with the proposed direction. A pastor studies in seminary for years, then a person in the church takes issue with a doctrinal stance. Most pastors know these frustrations. While pastors should care deeply about preaching, doctrine, and vision, it’s unreasonable to expect everyone to agree with everything you say.
A few months ago, the book Emotionally Healthy Discipleship by Pete Scazzero came across my desk. I am usually excited to dive into new titles to stay on top of what’s out there. However, this book triggered a different kind of reaction.
Most of my memories from childhood involve waiting around an empty church. Since I was too young to be left at home, I would often be dragged there to sit around, probably playing Pokémon on the original grey brick Gameboy, while my dad prepared for a service or event.
Do you ever have one of those days that moves along really well? You’ve had a great night’s sleep. Things are going according to how you expected. The kids got up and ready for school without a fuss. Everyone made it out the door with a smile on their face. You get to work and open your email to find a note of encouragement: “Hey Pastor, just want you to know that I’m thankful for you and praying for you today.”
We are now almost two years into a global pandemic. To say that vocational leaders are tired and discouraged would be a colossal understatement. On the front end of it, most seemed to quickly acknowledge, “This isn’t going to be a sprint, we’re going to have to lace up for a marathon.” And pastors did just that.
I’m what many in the church refer to as a “pastor’s wife.” I haven’t always been one. I gained this title or label almost nine years ago when my husband, David, accepted his first pastoral position as associate pastor of our church. Up until then, we both had careers but were very involved in lay ministry together.
We all have those moments when someone says something that resonates deeply with us. We often don’t even know why, but something tells us: “Pay attention here.”