Hard Lessons

I’m learning some really hard lessons about what it means to be a pastor lately.

I love the people in our church. Most pastors do. Those people who are called to pastoral ministry are usually people who love other people. (I say “usually” because I’ve met a few pastors who are more comfortable sitting in their studies, surrounded by books and papers than they are in their sanctuaries, surrounded by people. Those types of clergy haven’t been the most effective leaders that I’ve ever met.)

But, like any other relationship – friendship, familial, marital – pastoral love is difficult. No matter how much I love the folks in my congregation, there’s nothing I can do to make them heal.

When someone comes to me and talks of pain and heartache, all I can do is point them to the love of God that I have experienced. When they tell me of choices they struggle with, all I can do is offer them my life experience and my prayer. When they talk of addictions and broken relationships all I have to give is my support and my listening ear.

I can offer strength, but I can’t make them choose life. I can recommend therapists, but I can’t force them to realize that fear is a thief who only steals and never gives. I can listen and give counsel, but I can’t force someone to offer his or her brokenness to God and take even one step towards healing.

It’s a heartbreaking moment for every pastor when they realize that there are people in their congregation who want someone else to do the work of healing FOR them. These are moments in which I feel like throwing in the towel. These are situations and conversations that make me want to shout with frustration. These are the choices that I witness in which I wish I could take the person by the shoulders and shake them until they wake up.

But it wouldn’t do any good.

These are the moments that I wish I was one of those pastors who sat in my study, surrounded by books and papers – not by people. But I’m not.

Fortunately, these are also the moments in which God breaks into my soul and reminds me that once upon a time I was a person who wasn’t ready to heal. In the not so distant past there were pastors who looked at me and wished more for me. There were pastors who laid the groundwork for my healing, but weren’t able to actually facilitate it. There were pastors who were, no doubt, frustrated and angry and ready to give up on me.

When I remember those things I slowly regain hope.

After all, as I preached last week – we only see a very small piece of the picture of life. Only God is able to see the whole.