What Pastors Need When Ministry Gets Hard

Being a pastor can be a lonely and exhausting job. We’ve all had friends burn out, break down, mess up, or just barely survive in their ministries. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking ministry—answering God’s call and serving his people is an incredible privilege. But it’s just plain hard sometimes. (Ask Elijah!)

What the Congregation Doesn’t See

I know how difficult it can be to shepherd God’s flock. There are huge expectations on the pastor, who has to meet them in spite of divisions in the congregation, and the push and pull between pastors, boards, and the people. I know the stress of a congregation that expects you to “turn this ship around” and to have all the answers in a constantly-changing world. I know what it’s like to reach out for help and find everyone else is too busy with their own ministry to help—and even to be betrayed by partners in ministry.

I know these things because I’ve been there. I wish my trials were unique, but after a couple of decades in ministry, I’ve seen the pile of pastors chewed up by ministry grow and grow. They get knocked out by rogue boards, moral failures, or even just a quiet resignation because they just can’t do it anymore.  

It can be hard to get perspective. That’s why we routinely dedicate space to blog posts that address the whole life of the pastor. That’s why we post about spiritual practices, work-life balance, what “success” means, leadership, and burnout. We care about pastors as a whole: hearts, minds, souls, and families (not to minimize your physical health… but don’t expect a workout routine from us soon). 

We want to help you avoid the burnout or being a newspaper headline. Better yet, we’d love to see you flourish.

Ministry Isn’t Like Other Jobs

Long-time TPW contributor (and board member) Scott Bullock recently shared one of the more challenging experiences from his own ministry. Perhaps it’s familiar:

In January 2018, after months of prayer and wrestling, my wife and I sensed that God was calling us away from the church where we had served for eight years. The church was healthy. Our staff worked in unity, and our ministry was thriving both locally and globally. But there were circumstances beyond our control that made it clear God was leading us elsewhere.

When we sat down to tell our kids—then 14, 12, and 10—we knew it would be hard. Our oldest was angry. Our middle child didn’t say a word. Our youngest cried. None of that surprised us. It reflected who they were and how much the church meant to them. Over the next few months, we watched them grieve in different ways. They missed their friends, their routines, and the sense of belonging that had shaped their young faith. At times, my wife and I wondered if their relationship with God would survive the change. Would they confuse leaving the church with leaving the Church? Would their pain harden into resentment toward ministry—or even toward God Himself?

Being a pastor isn’t like other jobs. Our workplace is also a community our family becomes a part of and that becomes part of us—when we’re called elsewhere, it’s wrenching. Any job or community change is hard, but in ministry, it’s a unique challenge for families to face—and it can be profoundly lonely for the pastor at the center.

There are also opportunities in these challenges—Scott now calls them “sacred ground” in which his family learned about grief, maintaining connections, and trusting God’s faithful care for his children. (Don’t miss his post in which he goes into more detail.)

Don’t Go It Alone

What I want to point out is how important it is not to do it alone. It’s easy for the specialness of the job (not to mention the spiritual warfare) to isolate us.

I know that too well. When I was ambushed by members of my own leadership team—my first instinct was to fight back, to draw lines between “us” and “them,” and to lean on my own understanding instead of God’s. It was speaking to wise counselors and a mentor that actually helped me to process what I had gone through.  

It wasn’t easy—it was difficult and painful. But it helped me to unpack some of my own sinful habits of dealing with conflict. As the son of a high-powered attorney, I had learned to advocate for my needs at an early age—but this fighting spirit was also a double edged sword. It kept me from listening to some of the feedback in my own character I had to acknowledge. This process helped me to become a better pastor.

(I’ve written about some of these lessons about conflict here.)

That peer network which helped me is important—don’t neglect yours. It could be that a phone call to another pastor in your network which builds that relationship may be the most important thing you do this week. Classmates from seminary in ministry, mentors, other pastors in your neighborhood, can all be the people you turn to for encouragement, counsel, a sounding board, accountability, or to just listen so you know it’s not just you. 

A formal framework can help, but it isn’t essential. I’ve been part of a pastoral cohort since 2012 that regularly meets to share about our lives and to pray for each other. It’s been an immensely helpful group that I can turn to both in and out of our meetings. But it doesn’t have to be that formal. It could start as simply as scheduling a weekly or monthly phone call. 

Calling in the Pros

Sometimes, you need to reach out beyond your immediate network and find someone wise who can offer help. Maybe the challenge is too complex, too sensitive, or you need an outside perspective to see what you can’t.

Ministry and leadership coaches, counselors, and spiritual directors meet these needs in different ways—they can be game-changers for pastors. We’ve been privileged to have some of them offer insights on our blog in the past such as Tod E. Bolsinger, Mike Kenyon, and Alan Briggs.

Scott—whose story about ministry transitions I shared above—wanted to add a personal note about the coaching work he’s now doing.