Encouraging pastor appreciation

“It’s like coming back from somewhere you’ve never been … you just can’t do it.” Earl Smith said these words to my father some 30 years ago. The two men were sitting in the living room of our home discussing the highs and lows of pastoral ministry. At the time, I was just an immature 20-something year old trying to decipher if the Lord was calling me to preach. 

I hoped by “sitting at their feet” I could soak up some knowledge. Earl Smith was not only one of my favorite preachers, he was also one of my father’s mentors. They had been friends for years, and my father always valued his weathered wisdom. 

Every few years our church invited Bro. Smith to hold a Wednesday through Sunday revival. It was normal for these two men to stay up late after church talking theology and pastoral ministry. At the time of this particular conversation, Bro. Smith had been preaching and pastoring for some 50 years, and my dad had been serving in ministry for about half that length of time. 

As they sat and talked, these pastors did what pastors often do when they get together: talk about the blessings and burdens of ministry. With some level of frustration, my father expressed what every pastor has felt at some point, being underappreciated and overwhelmed. He said something about the people in the pews not realizing just how hard the ministry can be. 

And he was right … they don’t know. They can’t possibly know. Or, as Bro Earl Smith said; “Gene, you can’t expect them to understand, it’s like coming back from somewhere you’ve never been … you just can’t do it.” 

The seasoned old preacher was right – there is simply no way for those who attend our churches to understand the weight and challenges that accompany pastoral ministry. If you’ve never done it, you can’t possibly appreciate what all it demands. Maybe I can roll back the curtain some and help you see!
What I intend to write to my Christian community the next couple weeks, is not seeking for sympathy, but instead for empathy. I’m not asking for you to feel sorry for pastors, but to show patience, appreciation, and affection for those of us who seek to serve your soul. It’s hard, relentless, and often undervalued work. Now to be sure, we (clergy) all immediately admit, we serve you imperfectly, preach too weakly, and pray too infrequently. 

After all, the best of men are men at best. But a man who truly has a pastor’s heart, seeks to lovingly shepherd your soul and that of your family for your eternal good. And he does so, while dealing with his own faults, failures, and weaknesses. 

The truth is, this feeling of inadequacy is one of the most humbling parts of ministry. For those who take this work seriously, standing between God and sinners every week produces a real sense of unworthiness and dependency. The Apostle Paul voiced this very sentiment in 2 Corinthians 2:16, when he asked; “Who is sufficient for these things?” The answer of course, is no one. Only God can use our feeble efforts in a way that draws lost souls to Christ and sanctifies the saints. The weight of eternity is more than mere mortals can bear, so the pastor must rely on the enabling power of the Holy Spirit to do only what He can do. 

Yet, it is also incumbent upon ministers to do everything they can to pastor well. We have been tasked with a solemn duty. To pray for, and preach to the people, preparing them for eternity. But just like everyone else, we aren’t always on our “A game.” Or, we aren’t always at our best. There are times when we just don’t feel well, but it’s Sunday and the sheep are showing up to be fed. 

Sometimes, we are expected to counsel hurting families, and yet we have our own family issues we are dealing with. Regardless of what some might think, neither the pastor or his family are perfect, and like every other family in church, they too face problems at home. 

But one of the heaviest weights on the minds of pastor is this; there is always more to do. The task of ministry never seems finished. Think on this with me. If your job is building houses, at some point, that new home is complete and you can move on. If you stock shelves, eventually the pallet is empty and you can punch out. If you mow lawns, you finish a yard … mow, blow and go. 

But every day, every week, there is an endless amount of important pastoral work that needs to be done. There are more people who need spiritual guidance. More sermons to prepare. More families who need godly counsel. More ministries that need support. More missionaries to encourage. More matters to pray over. More seniors and shut-ins to spend time with. More sick people to visit. More nursing home residents to check on. More funerals to preach. More calls to make. More emails to answer. More letters and articles to write. And an endless amount of text messages to respond to. (Received at all hours, I might add). More, more, more. Always more. 

However, like all other people, pastors also need time to unwind and unplug. Yet doing so, seems to always accompany some sense of guilt for not doing more, not praying more … not being there, not devoting more time and energy to vital spiritual tasks. And for some of us, that feeling never goes away. And can easily lead to discouragement and burn-out. 

No, I can’t bring you back from somewhere you’ve never been. But perhaps in these articles, I can challenge you to go with me as we explore some of the blessings and burdens of ministry. Again, I’m not looking for pity, but understanding. Asking you to think more often (and more deeply) about the heavy weight of this wonderful calling. And imploring you to be patient with us pastors/preachers when we don’t always do it well. Through our many shortcomings, our imperfect aim is to point you to a perfect Savior who is worthy of your undivided love and unyielding devotion.