The pastor’s world is filled with transformations, trials and triumphs. For the last 20 years, I have been a part of this blessed burden of pastoring.
It is indeed the toughest assignment I ever had, while also being the most rewarding work I ever have done. Like the old U.S. Army commercial, I do more before 9 a.m. than most people do all day. That’s generally because I haven’t gone to bed until around 3 a.m.
The everyday
There are the pedestrian activities that border on tedium. Most of the time it’s just hard work that largely goes unnoticed.
There are the garden-variety, run-of-the-mill counseling sessions, meetings, community partner development possibilities and similar things that can become much like watching paint dry after you have done it for a while.
Thank God for those times, because the height of the highs and the depth of the lows would strain the will past the breaking point if they were the daily experience of the pastor. We survive in the pedestrian and mundane life experiences of people.
Trying times
Pastors who desire to be faithful to the Bible and the teachings of Christ find ourselves battling the ever-increasing encroachment of secularism in the church in the name of being culturally relevant to a younger generation.
One image of the pastor must be the watchman on the wall as we fight against the proliferation of false teachings that threatens to mislead unsuspecting followers.
We are tasked with untangling the syncretism that twists the truth of the gospel as culture encourages emerging Christians to incorporate diverse belief systems into their faith, making them no different than those early believers who hedged their bets against Jesus with their practice of the cult worship of the day.
It is a frustrating, never-ending battle to break the downward pull of culture on the faith practice of the saints.
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Joyful times
Then there are joyful times. As pastor, I have a front row seat to the work of the Lord.
There is nothing equal to the joy felt when an entire family devotes their lives to Christ or the warm familial feeling of parents, grandparents and friends who come to witness the dedication of a little one back to the Lord. They are so precious in the Lord’s sight.
This is only paralleled by the spray of splashing water when parents are coming out of the baptism waters. There is no greater sense of belonging than this.
I have pastored long enough to begin baptizing the children of those parents I had the privilege to baptize a decade or more ago. I must admit, these are supercharged moments when there is no place I’d rather be.
Sorrowing times
And there’s the opposite side of the life cycle, when it befalls you to stand over the remains of someone you have grown to love, and they have grown to love you enough to entrust you with the title “pastor,” it wrenches all the energy from you.
It is then you know “pastor” has become more than just a title to them. It is a term of endearment, a love call or something even deeper, because you have taken on a new relationship with them.
You stood there and listened as they shared the most earth-shattering news of their lives. You prayed for them when they couldn’t pray for themselves. You stood with family and friends and encouraged them during the difficult times of uncertainty, and you wept with them during the painful times of the inevitable.
It is by your words that the lifeless body of that dear member is committed back to the earth. There is a silence so loud it blares in the eardrums of the soul. You stand before the family completely vulnerable and empty, grappling to find words of solace, but you know words are inadequate in those somber moments.
As I mature as pastor, I know practicing the ministry of silence is an art worth mastering. It isn’t our words that matter so much. They will be forgotten soon enough. It is our presence that makes the difference. People will remember we stood with them while their hearts broke.
A full life
Somewhere between these extremities, I have become a better pastor. “Pastor” no longer is merely a title. It is a signal of the representation of grace dispatched by a loving God who cares for us during both the bright and the bleak moments in life.
Being God’s servant means I get to remind people of the love of God by loving them in the leanest of times. It means being the human expression of the love of God that has been poured out during times of celebration.
I never am without my ambassadorship. I never represent myself. It is always about the Lord. I am required always to point to him in the good and the not-so-great times.
Holding the hand of a senior member contoured by the annals of time, losing your voice cheering for a member of the student ministry as they perform on the field of play, walking with parents as they try to make sense of the wonder years of teenage life, sharing a word of hope to a couple contemplating calling it quits—the pastorate includes them all.
It is sometimes a thankless undertaking, but it always is the most significant work I do. This is the assignment I have been entrusted with, and it has done more to change my life than I ever could imagine. I am so grateful I get to do life with this group of people every day. I’m not just a preacher; I am a pastor.
Dr. Ron Session is the senior pastor of Shiloh Church in Garland. The views expressed are those of the author.
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