One of the great things about pastoral ministry is flexibility of schedule. When my younger son was in junior high and on his school’s soccer team, I was able to work my schedule to where I made his late afternoon games—a luxury a number of other fathers didn’t have (in fact, I also served as the “soccer reporter” for his school newspaper). Granted—occasionally things happened where I had to drop what I was doing and respond to the situation. Because so much of pastoral ministry is people related, I had to develop a schedule so I could be available when they were available. That’s why church board meetings typically happened in the evenings. While that was a work responsibility for me, I had to set it up for a time when the others on the board could be there.
It was up to me to create a structure that allowed time to do the various things that needed to be done. For me, a sermon didn’t happen without setting aside about fifteen hours. When I was in a multiple staff situation, I needed to allow time to interact/problem solve/build trust with the other staff members. In larger churches there was a significant administrative burden that didn’t take care of itself. Advance planning and thinking through the mechanics of how to implement a ministry strategy took time and couldn’t be squeezed in at the last minute. And quite often I had to take care of my responsibility by a certain time so those around me could have adequate time to do their job. I always felt that doing what I needed to do that others were counting on me for in a timely fashion—having my stuff ready to go into the worship folder or newsletter … having my sermon completed so the person creating the slide show for the service could have adequate time to do so—was a way of supporting and respecting them. If I truly wanted to honor the people around me, I needed to do my job so they could do theirs with a minimum of stress.
That said, the flexibility of schedule that comes with the territory of pastoral ministry can be misunderstood by some people as meaning you’re always available. Most of them didn’t see these other things that required time. They don’t see the deadlines that had to be met. I had more than my share of people who dropped by and plopped down in my office just to chat. Because my schedule was flexible, they assumed I should always be available.
One of the things I learned about ministry is that there’s a difference between availability and accessibility. I might not always be available, but I need to be perceived as accessible. I wasn’t always able to drop what I was doing to respond to their request—in fact, a wise pastoral mentor told me early on in my ministry that it was my job (not the parishoner’s) to determine what constituted an emergency, and that pseudo-emergencies typically didn’t get any worse, and often began to sort themselves out, if I gave them 24 hours. But there were a couple of things I conscientiously did to where I tried to send the message that, while I might not immediately be available, I was accessible.
First—as much as possible, I tried to work with my office door open. Granted … there were occasionally things where I need to close the door—sensitive phone calls or meetings, times when a deadline was bearing down and I needed to be productive (like preparing for a funeral), etc. But I tried to work with my door open as much as possible, as I felt it sent a message to the other members of the staff that “I’m here to support you any way I can.” Plus, for anybody from the church that happened to drop by the office, I felt like it communicated that I wasn’t walled off or detached. I had staff members who’d come in, march into their office, and shut the door. I never felt like that created a good look … a look that said to people, “I want to be accessible and part of your life.”
Second—I tried to reply to texts, emails, and voice mail messages before the day was over or, at the very longest, within 24 hours. Granted—there were sporadic seasons when I didn’t measure up to that ideal. But I always believe if someone took the initiative to reach out to me, it was because they needed something from me and the very least I could do was get back to them in a timely fashion. My message might be, “Hey, I’m really swamped right now and I won’t be able to move on this until the first part of next week.” But taking the time to reply in a timely fashion communicated accessibility even though I might not be immediately available.
One of the things I HATE is emails or voice mails that, because of the other party’s lack of response, feel like they’ve descended into a black hole. It wasn’t that difficult to structure my life to respond in a reasonable time frame to where, even if I wasn’t immediately available, I communicated accessibility. In some ways, delayed communication or non-communication comes off as arrogant … “I’ve got so much going on, and it’s so incredibly important, to where I don’t have time for the likes of you.” Or it communicated lack or order or organization … “My life is in such disarray to where I’m not able to stay on top of petty details like your trivial message or insignificant issue.” No one in ministry should ever send either of those messages. Yet a number of us routinely do.
The tension between availability and accessibility is real. But if we go to the trouble to demonstrate that we’re accessible, most people will understand if we’re not immediately available. Granted—there are a few folks who want us to always be available and may not be happy. But my goal as a leader was not to try to satisfy people with unrealistic demands. My goal was to take care of the various that required my attention without burning out. And quite often just making the effort to let people know I was accessible, even though I might not be immediately available, did wonders in that regard.