A couple of weeks ago, I had breakfast with my Assistant District Superintendent. As we talked about how things are going in the local churches across the district and the challenges of pastoring in a pandemic—pivoting the church on a dime—he said something interesting to me: “John—I predict that when this pandemic passes and we start to come out on the other side, we’ll have a slew of pastoral resignations to deal with.”
I’ve been thinking about that. Pastoral ministry is, by its very nature, mentally and emotionally exhausting. The weight of caring for the souls of broken, hurting people is much more significant than most people know. The challenge of trying to communicate effectively in a day when people’s attention span is shrinking is considerable. The hardship of trying to lead a divided people—folks who have deeply held ideological opinions that run across the political spectrum—without alienating or estranging them is substantial. Add into this the complication of trying to maneuver in a pandemic where normal has been disrupted, revenues are down, relational disconnection is prevalent, and future plans have often had to be abandoned makes for a hefty, burdensome mix.
I’m not talking about leaders who step away because of some immoral or unethical behavior, or men and women who have a situation crop up in their family that requires a level of attention that requires a temporary respite from their pastoral duties. Nor am I talking about those who thought they were signing up for one thing and, after a few months or perhaps years in pastoral ministry, decided they weren’t a good fit and felt like they should move on. I’m talking about solid, godly people who still love Jesus and His people—folks who have made valuable contributions to the local church over the years—who have decided to step away from full-time ministry and do something else vocationally.
Here are a couple of reasons I believe this will happen with increased frequency in the coming months and years.
1. The division is discouraging. Perhaps there are a few monolithic churches that are filled with people who think the same about every issue. If so, the pastor of that congregation may not face the exhaustion of division. But I also believe such churches are becoming less and less prevalent—simply because more and more people are pontificating and drawing dividing lines over more and more issues. And to be perfectly honest, even if there could be uniformity of thought on every single issue, that’s not what most of us envision for the churches we serve. What makes the body of Christ so beautiful is when people with different backgrounds and perspectives are united by their allegiance to a better King and a vaster Kingdom. What makes the local church so special is when people who disagree about some significant things can love each other and get along beautifully because they are together on something so significant it transcends every difference of opinion. But that’s a reality many professing followers of Jesus are finding it harder to embrace and live out these days.
I feel certain the mask conversation has been tiring for many ministry leaders. I recently saw a graphic that featured a number of “thought bubbles” around a bubble at the center. One thought bubble said, “You can’t open the church building yet. You’re wrong if you do. It’s a huge health risk.” Another said, “It’s all a big hoax … a conspiracy … a frenzy developed by the liberals to prevent the President’s re-election.” A third said, “We need to open the church building … I’m feeling so detached and alone. What are you waiting for?” And another said, “Don’t believe all that stuff you hear on the TV. Here’s a weblink … you need to read this article!” And so it went—a dozen or so bubbles clustered around a central bubble, each with a different, distinct opinion. And in the bubble at the center was only one word—"Pastor.”
That’s how the current environment feels. And it takes an unbelievable toll. To have to weigh your words so carefully to where you won’t offend somebody about a political issue … to know that people are looking at your like you’re a moron because you don’t see eye-to-eye with them on a particular issue or have a difference of opinion—it makes for a very dispiriting and discouraging environment.
2. What some most enjoyed about their ministry roles is not what ministry is currently. Many pastors have watched as the most joyful aspects of their job have been ripped away from them because of physical distancing, limited gatherings, and increased reliance on technology. For example: Perhaps the Youth Pastor’s favorite week of the year was summer camp where teenagers were encouraged to attend in hopes that by getting away from their everyday lives and engaging in an array of outdoor activities they’d hear the voice of God with clarity and experience a spiritual breakthrough. For the Children’s Pastor, it may be the weekly Children’s Church and the thrill of couching the truth of the gospel in terms they can understand and watching the lights come on. For the Pastoral Care pastor, it may be sitting down with a family in the wake of a loved one’s passing and shepherding them through the funeral by providing support and guidance at a very vulnerable time, or praying with people who feel apprehensive and uneasy at the hospital. For the Teaching Pastor, it may be the thrill of gathering a group together and opening up to them the Word of God in terms they can understand and readily apply to their lives.
The point is … with the pandemic, all of these things are gone—at least for the short term. And while there’s a light at the end of the tunnel as gatherings are starting to resume in some parts of the country, there is still uncertainty about some aspects of ministry and what it will look like in the future. For many, they are unsure if they will ever again be able to do the things about ministry that really prove to be rewarding to them. And if the joy and rewards are removed from the equation, then why not try to leverage the skills they’ve developed through years of ministry service and find something that can pay the bills so they can volunteer and serve in their “sweet spot”?
What does all this mean? It means, like I said earlier, that more and more pastors are likely going to resign their post and step away from their responsibilities in the next couple of years or so. But it also means that, when they do, we shouldn’t rush to the conclusion that something is wrong with them … or guilt them for that choice … or entertain the thought in the back of our mind that they lost their zeal or are somehow less Christian. We should thank them for all they’ve done. And we should also remember that all work can be sacred. A.W. Tozer said it so well—"It is not what a man does that determines whether his work is sacred or secular; it is why he does it.” Which means ministry work, when done for the wrong reasons, can be very secular. And marketplace work, when done for the right reasons, can be incredibly sacred.