Why I Get Depressed When I’m Around Christians (as far as I know)

About 90% of the time I’m around Christians, I’m more depressed afterwards than before.

I said this on Twitter and someone replied, “Either you or they are not doing it right.”

I’m aware of this, and this deepens my depression.

I will fully admit that this experience is at least partially, if not entirely, my fault. I imagine I’m a proud, egotistical, self-righteous, judgmental jerk. I’m saying that honestly. The odds this is entirely the case are pretty good.

So, that’s one option, and probably the first one on the list. But for the sake of argument, I’ll pretend there is at least a percentage that might be their fault.

If we grant that possibility, here is my explanation of my depression around Christians.

Also, let me add real quick, that the 10% of the time I’m not depressed around Christians is very real. I am not depressed after a conversation with a Christian where we talk about the Bible and get into swapping verses and thinking together through a question, while we both come up with other verses, and by the end everyone present has been edified and it’s so cool.

This is generally one-on-one style of communication, but I’ve also occasionally had it in a group setting.

Now, to the 90%. Here’s how it goes.

1. Every time I go into a Christian environment, I pray for me, for everyone else there, and anyone who opens their mouth. I pray that we are all edified and brought closer to Christ. This is my sincere desire for every meeting of believers. This is my constant prayer going into any Christian gathering, whether it’s a church service or grabbing lunch.

2. As mouths open, I am routinely shocked by the unbiblical nonsense that almost immediately comes forth. Once one weird thing has been said, I begin praying, “Lord help me to know what to say, how to say it, and if I should say it.” I usually wait, hoping, praying someone else heard it too.

3. Inevitably, the next open mouth will not only not correct the first mouth that opened, the second mouth will dig the hole of unbiblical nonsense deeper.

4. As the unbiblical nonsense is shared, I get a pain in my gut. You know that feeling when you have diarrhea that first time and you’re not sure what’s going on yet? Yeah, that feeling. The physical pain in my stomach increases until I must say something.

5. I carefully and as humbly as possible (not always possible unfortunately) quote a verse and try to steer the conversation back to biblical solid ground.

6. People either stare at me, laugh, argue, or ignore what I said. Rarely ever has anyone taken the bait to actually correct where the conversation is going.

7. I am now the bad guy, the one who made it awkward, the one who is “sowing division.”

8. I leave the gathering feeling terrible about everything. I pray earnestly for the people who said unbiblical nonsense and for me and for the church, and for, dear Lord, please come quickly.

9. Then I go home and hash and rehash what was said. Was I right? Were they really wrong. I look up stuff. I pray. I give way better answers to the imaginary replaying of the event in my head.

10. About two days later I’m over it. Now it’s time to go to Wednesday night church and repeat it all over again.

Let me give you an example I had last year. There was a group of 20 or 30 believers talking about Lot in the context of 2 Peter 2, particularly the verse that said righteous Lot vexed his soul over the wicked conduct of the people around him. I was not the leader in any way and am not a pastor of anyone in the group; I’m just another person sitting there.

About four people opened their mouths on this verse and it went like this:

First Person: Lot shouldn’t have moved close to those cities.

Second Person: Yeah, I heard he should have let Abraham choose first.

Third Person: It’s not right to be vexed in your soul.

Fourth Person: Yeah, it was a sin for him to be vexed; he should have been trusting God.

This verse, which is clearly a defense of Lot even though we like hating on him, was turned into saying the exact opposite point.

This is one of thousands of examples, some more distressing; some less. All annoying.

When you’re the guy who is always throwing cold water on people’s fun pontificating, people get real tired of you. I decided not to say anything about this one. I let it go. I took my diarrhea feeling home with me.

I never know what to do. But whatever I do is wrong. It never makes any difference to say anything anyway. There are times I have to though, and I hate it every time. I won’t sleep that night.

I was on the phone for an hour today with the cable company to cut my cable. After the hour long conversation I felt terrible. Maybe I was rude. Maybe I should have been more patient. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe the best thing would have been to just keep the cable and avoid the whole situation.

So, maybe it’s just me and my insecure introvert awkwardness.

I like to think my sadness over the unbiblical nonsense spoken by so many Christians might have something to do with me being in the body of the Man of sorrows who was acquainted with grief. I like to think it’s me following James’ advice to turn my laughter into mourning. I like to think this response is a good thing and shows my spiritual discernment.

Then again, knowledge puffs up.

Nothing I do ever feels like it was the right thing to do. It’s all very depressing.

I know there are many people who can’t relate to all this. I know “It’s not your job to fix people,” and “it’s not your responsibility.” I know all that. I never said any of that.

I’m looking at it more from the standpoint of judgment day and me giving an account for how well I handled God’s Word (which will judge us by the way) and how well I helped others handle God’s Word too.

If I didn’t love people, if I didn’t care, none of this would bother me. That’s my other justification. It just shows how great my love is for others.

Could be, then again, I probably just want to be right.

I don’t know.

I skipped church for two weeks straight last month and it was the happiest two weeks of the year.

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If you’d like to hear more about my depression caused by pastoring Christians, I wrote a book. CLICK HERE to get a copy of it. There are 9 tips for how to not grow your church for only $3.50!

I Am Grateful for My Years in Pastoral Ministry

Although I have enjoyed making fun of and complaining about and whining about and being cynical about pastoral ministry for years, I have to say, my years as a pastor were one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I consider it all to be a giant blessing and honor.

Before I get too uncharacteristically carried away in positivity, let me say that I did not feel this way during most of my years in ministry! There were brutal days. I was swallowed up in deep depression for years.

The struggles were real. The lack of money was real. The pressure to please people was real. The humiliation and disrespect were real. It was all real and felt horrible.

But over time, especially now that I’m out, the clarity of hindsight has shown me what a great thing all the misery was. Tribulation works patience, experience, and hope, and hope does not make ashamed.

It’s through those tough times that I lost confidence in myself and was driven to God’s Word, the Holy Spirit, and the comfort of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

If those terrible things had never happened, if everything had gone well instead, I fear to think of what my spiritual state would be today.

I was not equipped to handle success as a young man. I know I would have become a massively arrogant jerk. I would have been one of those fallen pastors we enjoy posting about on Twitter. I needed to be cut down. Being a pastor in the church I was in cut me down very well.

Paul says in 1 Timothy 1:12-14:

I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service, though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.

I don’t claim to be appointed like Paul was. I had no Damascus Road experience with my ministry spelled out for me. Nor can I claim my past life was the result of ignorance in unbelief.

I grew up in a pastor’s family. We had Bibles everywhere. My ignorance was entirely due to laziness and self-righteousness. It wasn’t until that was beaten out of me and I was driven to the Word for lack of other options, did I start to become less ignorant.

Now I can give thanks to the Lord for the opportunity I had to serve Him, as flawed and pathetic as it seemed to be. It was an honor to teach God’s people from God’s Word. I should have been more grateful during it.

The Lord is the ultimate judge of our ministry. Endeavor to please Him, never forgetting that we do the job to serve Him. It’s not for the pay, the prestige, the respect, the power, the influence, or any number of other possible candidates that drive people into pastoral ministry.

It’s to serve our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. What an honor and privilege it is.

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If you’d like to hear more details about my depressing experiences pastoring my church, I wrote a book. CLICK HERE to get a copy of it. There are 9 tips for how to not grow your church for only $3.50!

Is Your Church’s Leadership Paying Attention?

In my many years of familiarity with churches, I’ve noticed that many people in positions of church leadership have no idea what’s going on in their churches.

And let me make clear that the church I was a pastor of was no exception.

I took my role as pastor/overseer seriously and felt the role required utmost attention since I would give an account before God. Souls were at stake and I wanted to be careful.

The people on the church board were mostly checked out though. This was frustrating on several levels:

1) They had no idea what was going on and they didn’t care. They were “busy.” They had zero time for church considerations. Oh sure, they mostly showed up for meetings and said “aye” at the right time, but they spent very little time thinking seriously about what the church was doing.

I remember one month at a board meeting asking them if they prayed about the church. They unanimously said no, not with any regularity. I asked them in the coming month to do so. They said they would. “Aye.” I asked them at the next board meeting if they prayed regularly for their church. They all said “no.”

This broke my heart. I can’t even get them to think enough about the church to take a few minutes a day to pray for it, how in the world are they going to be effective and helpful leaders in the church?

2) Even if a few people are paying attention, no one understands concerns when brought up. The one guy paying attention gets branded as “that guy” who is “always against everything.” After a while that guy isn’t listened to.

For most of the years as a pastor the board of the church was not involved in anything in the church. It was actually a rare occasion when all board members would be at church on a Sunday morning. “Why didn’t you choose more faithful people to be on the board then?” you may ask. There weren’t any others. These were it.

If they are never at church activities seeing what I’m seeing, how are they going to care? “Just do what you want, that’s why you get the big bucks” was actually a regular answer I received from the board. Doing what I wanted wasn’t the point. Having a group of dedicated people in agreement, and having each other’s backs, and ultimately the health and safety of the church as a prime concern, was the point.

I’m in a church now as not a pastor. I have no official authority of any kind in the church. I struggle with this. Not because I want to be in charge! But I do see how the leadership of the church is not really paying attention. There is so much inconsistency and compromise and sloppiness in adherence to biblical standards, it’s rather distressing to me.

I find myself looking up things just out of curiosity, things that make me wonder, “what’s that about?” I find out. Turns out usually there is a reason my attention was pricked. I’ll ask about it from various members of the church leadership. “Oh, I don’t know what that’s about.” One recently said, “I wasn’t paying attention, I just tune that stuff out.”

There are, in my opinion, pretty dangerous things being floated about in this church, yet this seems to not get anyone in leadership’s attention.

I was unable to get a group in my church to actually care about the church; I know how hard it is to do. I do not stand as one who knows how to do it. I don’t know, I couldn’t figure it out. The inactivity of the board was one of the main things that drove me to resign. Obviously I don’t know how to lead.

I’m wondering if my old church and the church I go to now are exceptions or just how it is. From the various pastors and churches I know about, I’d wager that most churches have barely attentive leadership. How else do we account for the sad state of churches in our day?

Even if they were paying attention to church activities, are any of them regularly in the Word as well? Do they even know what a biblical standard is? What exactly is our guide for decision making? Is anyone paying attention to that? Or have we all agreed to not challenge anything so we can all just coast and get by doing the bare minimum?

Our shepherds are not keeping watch by night or day. Wolves are in sheep’s clothing tearing up the flock. Church leadership is “busy.” Not busy overseeing and protecting, but busy nonetheless.

I imagine this will be a deal on Judgment Day.

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If you’d like to hear more of my accumulated pastoral “wisdom” that shrunk my church, I wrote a book. CLICK HERE to get a copy of it. There are 9 tips for how to not grow your church for only $3.50!

7 Ways for Pastors to “Love the People”

When I was preparing to be a pastor, an older pastor told me, “Love the people. That’s the biggest thing. You’ve gotta love the people.”

As a young, idealistic pastor-in-training I had no idea what that really meant. If you asked me to nail that down, I suppose I would have said something along the lines of, “Be nice and talk to them. Shake their hands. Something like that?”

After 21-years of being a pastor, and now being out of pastoral ministry and observing pastors from the “layman’s” perspective, here are the top things I think it means for a pastor to “love the people.”

1. Love rejoices in the truth.

Love doesn’t mean tolerating sin or downplaying scriptural standards of Christian conduct for fear of offending and losing attenders. The pastor who told me to “love the people” frequently told people their sin was ok, that they didn’t have to worry about it because of grace. His idea of love meant “be inoffensive” to people. If you are not pointing out truth and error you are not loving people.

2. Love feeds the people.

The idea of preaching and teaching the Word is repeated in the Pastoral Epistles something like 12 times. It’s a big deal. People in your church have been put under your charge. You are the one primarily responsible for feeding them. If your people are starving, it’s hard to see how you are being a good shepherd that loves his sheep. Give them solid meat to chew on!

3. Love protects the people.

Shepherds feed and protect the sheep. There are plenty of wolves out there, some in sheep’s clothing and some very plainly walking around looking like wolves. Be on guard. Warn the people. Protect the people. Call out sin and false teaching. Don’t be afraid to enact biblical church discipline for the purpose of restoring people into paths of righteousness.

4. Love shows up.

Be there for people. Don’t get so sucked into your schedule that you can’t take time out to make a hospital visit or be available in crisis moments. Also, don’t just wait for crisis moments! Be with your people. Know them. Set up times to visit their work place or homes. This used to be common, but with texting it is less so. Some people are uncomfortable with the idea so check first. But be available. There are always healthy limits, but there are probably other duties you do that can be put off or delegated so you can be with the people.

5. Love knows how to listen.

Some think “love the people” means to be an extroverted schmoozer. That’s not it at all. Shut up and listen! It’s awful hard to know what to say to edify people if you’re never hearing what they are saying. Shut off the auto-responses, the pastor voice, and trite answers. Drop the knee-jerk defensiveness that keeps you from being corrected. Shut off the part of your brain that formulates responses before the other person has stopped talking. Listen. Listen to the extent that you remember stuff. Bring up that stuff later. Ask follow-up questions next time you see them. People in our world are not used to being listened to. Be an exception.

6. Love serves.

Be available for menial tasks. Clean the toilets in your church every once in a whole. Don’t be above others. Not saying you do everything, just saying be careful not to get uppity, feeling like you are above others or above certain jobs. Be humble. Look for opportunities to humbly serve. Wash some feet out there!

7. Love is strong.

Make sure you’re growing. If you’re not advancing in your faith, how will you help others advance in theirs? Bear burdens. If someone in the church has to sacrifice, let it be you. Again, there are healthy boundaries, but lead in sacrificing. Take a pay cut instead of cutting support for struggling but faithful missionaries. As the KJV says, “Quit ye like men.” Be strong. Set your face like flint, armor up, take up your cross, and bear one another’s burdens.

There are probably more things to add. Love is a gigantic topic in the New Testament, kind of the whole deal. Pastors, you gotta love the people. I hope this helps you think through better how you can do that.

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The True Sorrow Of Ministry

One of the hardest parts of ministry was not about my sacrifice or suffering, but watching other people’s lives degenerate and explode.

I didn’t mind giving up my time and energy to help people. I didn’t mind the personal cost that much. Sure there were moments of frustration or self-pity, especially when I couldn’t afford to eat good food, but it was part of the gig, a thing I was resigned to. Plus I knew that on Judgment Day none of that stuff would loom large.

I did not resign from being a pastor because of my own suffering. I resigned because I couldn’t bear to know that much about so many people, give so much effort to help them hear God’s Word, yet see them reject it and do the exact opposite, and then watch their inevitable demise.

It broke my heart.

I watched devastating things happen to many people and families. I mean terrible, awful stuff.

In many cases it was stuff I preached and counseled about. Stuff I saw coming. Stuff I prayed about with anguish for hours. Stuff I warned individuals about. All for naught.

Any time I expressed this idea of the pain of watching people’s lives explode, people always lectured me about me. “Well, you can’t fix people. That was your mistake. You can’t take it personal.”

No. See, you’re missing my point.

I wasn’t taking it personal. I was mourning and weeping for people who didn’t even know any better to be weeping and mourning over their own messed up lives.

This isn’t some kind of arrogant, prideful, “If only they had listened to me they would have been saved” Messiah complex thing.

This is simply the absolute devastation I felt in the core of my being watching people slowly reject God and slip toward hell.

It wasn’t about me not getting props or respect or attention. I wouldn’t care who got that. I just hated watching more people desert the faith and wither away.

The one thing that consoled me was seeing so many faithful people in the Bible feel this same thing.

The Apostle Paul said he would rather be accursed from Christ if it meant his kindred Israelites would be saved. He said he had continual sorrow in his heart for them.

Isaiah cried out, “Woe is me, for I am undone, for I am a man of unclean lips and live in the midst of a people of unclean lips.” I recognized my own inadequacy, my own struggle with sin, and then seeing so many others go down and lose the fight. Seeing it all fall apart. Watching the church disintegrate as a byproduct of lives disintegrating.

Jesus Christ wept over Jerusalem because how often He would have gathered them as a hen gathers her chicks, but they would not be gathered. Jesus was prophesied as a man of sorrows acquainted with grief.

Without this testimony of Scripture I would have felt alone. Elijah and I would be weeping by ourselves. But there are so many more who feel the pain and weep.

I wept for 20 years over people and prayed continually for them. Nothing seemed to matter. I faithfully did my job as best I could according to Biblical standards. I hung in there as long as I could.

But I’m a guy who feels things. I wish I wouldn’t, but I did and still do. I still weep when I think of the church, the people, and the disasters I witnessed. I did it as long as I could.

Although the urge to go back into pastoral ministry pops up occasionally, the memories of the pain keep me unable to do so. Call me a wimp or a quitter. The Lord will judge me. I say with Paul, “for me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you, I judge not my own self.”

The Lord will judge me at that Day. I imagine we’ll commiserate, and I look forward to a nice long talk while we walk on a trail through the woods and in the end, a snack, and a hug from my Lord and Savior.

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If you’d like to hear more of my accumulated pastoral “wisdom,” I wrote a book. CLICK HERE to get a copy of it. There are 9 tips for how to not grow your church for only $3.50!

My Resignation Sermon

I put a battery in my old MP3 player that I used to record my sermons and found an audio file I don’t remember making!

It was a rehearsal sermon of my resignation from my church. I did it in the quiet of my office with the intent of posting it for the church to hear.

The situation was a little weird as to why I recorded it. My mother was struggling with cancer and the week of my resignation she took a turn for the worse. I thought I might miss the Sunday my resignation was planned for to have to go see her.

I managed to stay in town until then, so I never used this audio file at all, which is why it escaped my memory.

Anyway, for pastors out there who are thinking of resigning or are curious about pastoral resignations, here’s how mine went! I basically said this to the church in person, just a lot more crying and blubbering was involved. I did not record the actual resignation sermon knowing I’d just be sniffing through the whole thing.

It’s over two years later now. I am glad I did not toast the church or go out burning bridges, which I could have done. My flesh would have enjoyed that. But I am grateful that did not occur. You can, or at least I can, hear when I got close!

So, I put this here in the off chance someone is interested. Click here to give it a listen.

How Can I Get Out of Pastoral Ministry?

About once a week I receive a message from a pastor who found my Failing Pastor blog or Twitter account who is discouraged and wants to know how to get out of ministry.

This is cool and sad.

I’ve been out of pastoral ministry for over a year now. I don’t get much material for Twitter or the blog anymore. It’s crossed my mind to quit many times. But the private messages I get from hurting pastors keeps me doing it.

I remember so well the loneliness I felt as a failing pastor. Nothing I did mattered or seemed to help. The surrounding apathy was sucking the life out of me. But I didn’t know what other job I could do.

Several times a year I hit the depths of quitting depression. I sent out resumes to teach for Christian schools. I even sent a few for janitorial positions. All my education and experience was in and for church. The exit seemed impossible.

I didn’t want to move to another church. I’d just have to start the battle all over. Stabbed in the back for brand new reasons by brand new people. Step in issues I didn’t know about all over again. No thanks.

I figured my only true out would be going into business. Doing something I was entirely in charge of. I didn’t need a fancy resume or have to meet any qualifications.

I’ve always liked books. I began buying and selling books. For about three years my wife and I talked about having a bookstore. I researched bookstores, interviewed bookstore owners, and learned more about the book business while selling books online.

My hope was to hang on until our last kid graduated from high school. All the kids would be out of the house, expenses would lower, and we’d be free to try it out. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hang on that long. A very frustrating time hit and I lost all joy and hope and motivation. I had to get out. If I stayed in longer I’d hurt someone.

Also during this time my mom was dying and she was not handling it well. I was stressed from both things. I resigned on a Sunday. Took my Mom into the hospital on that Tuesday and two weeks later she died. Things went so quickly and dramatically, I never even told her I resigned from being a pastor.

We opened our bookstore about three months ago and are completely thrilled with the decision and how things have worked out.

Pastors ask me all the time “How do you make money now? I’d quit in a heartbeat if I could make money some other way.” This is what I did. It’s probably not what you should do. I have no idea.

I know the pain and the anguish and I feel for you. I do. I get it so much. All I can suggest is that you work on an alternative plan while still pastoring. This is especially true if you have a family. Your decision affects other people.

At the same time, I got to the point where I had to scrap my plan because I was done. Like, legit done. I felt something shift in me. I had to get out. You might be there too. In that case, you go on faith that the Lord will help you out.

We are in an economy right now where everyone is looking for good help. I know it might be embarrassing to get the job at Home Depot, but hey, it’s better to do that than to disparage the ministry with a bad attitude. Take a grunt job for a while and work on an alternate plan.

I don’t know. I feel unqualified to give advice really. All I can do is tell you what I did. I know several pastors who went into business as an avenue out of ministry. It’s scary, but also a fascinating learning experience. Many pastoral functions are good preparation for going into business: dealing with people, operating budgets, filling out forms/office work, etc.

As an added bonus: I have received more encouragement and compliments in the last three months in our bookstore than I did in 21 years of being a pastor! That’s kind of nice! I know it’s not everything and it’s really not all that important, but when you get beat up for so long, it is nice to be appreciated!

Anyway, I feel for you if you feel stuck in your pastoral job. You’ll get criticized and judged by other pastors and anyone else you share your feelings with. It’s a bummer and part of what makes pastoral depression even worse.

I don’t judge. I know what it’s like. It’s tough. Life is bigger than ministry. Do the right thing before the Lord and I am convinced He will take care of you. Make the right call for you before Him. Hang in there. Fight the fight.

Problems of a People Pleasing Pastor

I think most pastors think they are doing pastoring the right way. Many even think they are doing it biblically.

Perhaps some are, but I think the major influence on how a guy pastors is simply personality. I come from a people-pleasing family. Serving people and being empathetic is what we do. We feel things for people and do what we can to help. This all sounds good and there are many verses that say we should do such things.

However, most of my empathy, care, and service was done out of fear. People pleasers are afraid of rejection, among other things. Much of my service was not done out of spiritual conviction but out of fleshly fear. This was especially true when my church began to shrink and I wasn’t getting paid much. I couldn’t afford more people to leave.

I would say my family and I were on the extreme end of people pleasers. My dad was probably the most people pleasery person ever. I was never as bad as he was. People liked him as their pastor, but he also attracted bullies. Bullies identify weak people and take advantage of them. I was pretty successful at attracting them too!

Both my dad and I did a lot of good for a lot of people, yet we also have long lists of people who took advantage of us, people who trampled on us and we were not always able to stand up for ourselves. We can justify it as Christlikeness; in reality it was simply fear.

Then there are those on the other end of the spectrum. Those who are oblivious to other people’s feelings. They don’t mind fighting and arguing. They are confident in who they are and what they believe and kind of don’t respect anyone but their own brilliant selves. They are sometimes known as Calvinists. I tease, I tease. Sort of.

These are the pastors who when I express my frustrations and failures as a pastor tell me I wasn’t called to ministry. They don’t empathize at all; they simply pile on and tell me how utterly awful I am. They are right to the extent that I was wrong, but they go too far. They don’t understand that the reason they don’t have the same experiences as a pastor as I do is because they are oblivious to all the things that make people with my personality miserable. I felt them too much; they feel them none at all. Both are problematic.

(One way to tell which end of the spectrum you are on is this: when someone argues with you do you enjoy it and it makes your day, or do you get tight and can feel your pulse in your eyes?!)

I think the best pastor is a combination of both, knowing when to please and when not to. Paul said if he yet pleased me he would not be the servant of Christ. The same Paul also said he became all things to all men so that by all means he might save some. That’s the balance.

I was unable to hit it. Most of my inability was wired into me. I was raised to fear people, although I have gotten better. Yes, I did lots of nice things and took many shots without responding and served. But I also resented the people I had to serve, especially if there was no reciprocation. That’s what people pleasers do. We please people with the assumption they will please us back. If I visit this person they will come to church. They don’t. I get bitter.

The non-people pleaser doesn’t get this at all. Their response to that paragraph is “yup, you are one sick person. Never should have been a pastor, that’s for sure.” Pause for a second though. Perhaps your response is a sign that you are too far the other way. You don’t weep with those who weep, you belittle those who weep.

A good pastor would have balance. They know how to serve out of love, out of Christlike compassion, yet also know how to confront and speak truth. I could and did speak truth, but felt awful about it for days afterward. Sick to my stomach at times when people had problems with what I said. Was that right? I don’t know. I know I cared deeply about people hearing the Gospel.

I don’t yet know the answer to either side of the spectrum. How does a pastor reach the right balance? I don’t know, that’s why I resigned! But I also know, after a year and a half out of ministry, where my problems came from. I’m still seeking to address this issue in my personality and in my faith even if I never pastor again. I want to do things right. I want to fix what is wrong and make progress.

In the end, the fact that you do pastoring a certain way and it feels good or “works,” or it feels terrible and “doesn’t work,” doesn’t necessarily mean anything. God’s opinion on the matter is what counts. I’ve learned that my personality dictated much of what I did as a pastor. This wasn’t always good and was sometimes terrible. We’re all in this together, aint none of us perfect. There is hope though! Growth is always out there for us to go for. Keep going for it.

Where I Was Edified as a Pastor (it Wasn’t Church)

I’ve been out of pastoral ministry for a good year and a half. And it has definitely been a good year!

One of the main reasons I resigned was that I was not edified at church. Church was a drain on me. I never left church services edified. Furthermore, I felt my edifying effects on others were diminishing. I don’t know if that part is true or not, it might just be self-loathing, it seemed like it. God will judge.

But I do know I was not being edified at church.

This was in large part due to being born in a pastor’s family. Church was another family member, often one that took precedence over the rest of the family members. It ruined my dad. I hated watching him get beat up by church people.

I had a bad attitude about church before I even began as a pastor. Being a pastor myself, getting beat up by church people for 21 years, did not help my bad attitude. It was time to get out.

I have been attending another church over the last good year and a half and have been edified and encouraged, built up and strengthened. And this is good.

In thinking back over the 21 years of non-edifying pastoral work, my faith still did ok. I personally was growing; it just wasn’t due to being built up by the local body of believers.

Not that there weren’t a few people who edified me, there were, but church as a meeting was not edifying. The place where I got the most edification was in my study.

In my study I read the Bible over 40 times cover to cover. I memorized Romans and Galatians. I read hundreds of theology books. I prayed and wept. I studied, wrote, and preached to walls. My study was my place of edification. Church was a place of draining out what I gained in my study.

The fact we call it the “pastor’s office” now instead of the “pastor’s study” says volumes. We’ve lost our focus. We’re running businesses rather than searching the Scriptures daily.

I will always appreciate the dead guys who wrote great books, even the dead guys who wrote not so great books that got me ticked off so I would look things up. I appreciate the living guys who wrote a few books as well, and also many sermons I listened to.

I grew and learned. I prayed and contemplated how to incorporate my knowledge into loving action. Some brutal hours were spent alone in my study, curled up on the floor weeping over broken lives. Some rapturous hours were spent too, glorying in the truth of God’s Word and the beauty of His wisdom, creation, and Gospel.

Tremendous.

Pastors, please develop the habit of being alone with the Lord, alone with the Bible, contemplating, meditating on it, and putting it into action in your own life. Even if all your church does is suck the life out of you, have a study that builds you up. I would not have lasted 21 years as a pastor without an edifying study.

Be alone with the Word, both the physical book and the risen Savior Jesus Christ. When the people take and take, have done the work that enables you to give and give.

Pastoral Shame and Accusations

Through 21 years of pastoring I was accused of many things:

–I ruled the church with “my way or the highway”

–I was too legalistic

–I wasn’t legalistic enough

–I was becoming Catholic

–I wasn’t Catholic enough

–I abuse my wife and kids

–I have too nice of a car

–I’m too close-minded

–I don’t understand grace

Most of these accusations are complete nonsense, but they also take an accumulative toll on a guy.

I was also aware at times that there was something bigger going on. There was a stretch of events in our church that sure seemed like an organized Satanic/demonic accusation going on. It was weird. Way too coincidental. Satan is an accuser and does a fine job.

And, in all honesty, my worst accuser was myself. My background in life was one of shame and insecurity. I’m legally blind, which created a lifelong feeling of inadequacy, and being made fun of by many didn’t help. My family was a very passive aggressive, guilt-based family. I had no self-confidence. I was trained to think if there was a problem, it was all my fault.

When you’re insecure and guilt-ridden naturally, with strong tendencies toward depression, accusations by others are enough to do you in. The pastorate did not help any of these negative characteristics in me; it massively made them worse.

Now that I’ve had a break from it (I resigned in November of 2020) I’m gaining perspective, not only on my sin and flaws, but also on the culpability of others in the whole mess.

I was recently struck with 1 John 2:1, “You have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.” When it was said to me, tears came to my eyes.

The context is about not sinning, and the help we have through Christ when we do. Sin is a tangled mess. I have my own sin and any other person who is around me has theirs. Something is going to go down. I’m either going to be accused, accuse them, or accuse myself, or any number of combinations of accusations.

There are places of confusion where I don’t even know if the accusations are wrong or not. I could go either way!

Regardless of where the accusations come from, I have an advocate with the Father. He’s my defense lawyer to all the prosecution’s accusations. And He’s THE righteous one. Who better to sort through the mess?

Unfortunately, His decision is not always seen or known, leaving me in a cloud of confusion. I have no idea if I did the right thing many times. I know I prayed about it and talked to the Lord, I explained my reasons as best as I understood them, but I’m also aware of my abilities in self-justification.

I have no idea. I’m a terrible judge. I’ll let Jesus Christ the righteous defend me. If I need vindication; I will let Him take care of it. If I need correction; He can give me that too.

Being a pastor is not easy; at least it wasn’t for me. Second-guessing and fault finding ruined my confidence, and that was just the noise in my head! After 21 years of having people in the church pointing out my faults too, well, yeah, not cool.

I have no idea if I did a good job as a pastor. I anxiously await the Lord’s opinion on that. I look forward to clarity. I hope we review everything I did so I can hear whether I did well there or not. Then again, maybe it’s better I don’t know!

Either way, I have an advocate with the Father. He understands my frame and knows that I am dust. I’ll let Him worry about the verdict. I’ll continue to grow and learn and implement. I don’t know what else to do.

From this point forward, anytime I or someone else accuses me, I’m going to tell them to, “Talk to my lawyer, Jesus Christ the righteous!”

But this isn’t a joke. It’s easier said than done. I know the weight of accusations. But with eternity in mind and THE Righteous One on my side, I imagine I will survive. I hope to be like Paul when he said:

“But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man’s judgment: yea, I judge not mine own self. For I know nothing by myself; yet am I not hereby justified: but he that judges me is the Lord. Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts: and then shall every man have praise of God.”

–1 Corinthians 4:3-5

I hope also to see the blessing in it. “Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake” (Matthew 5:11). To be numbered with the prophets and all those in the great cloud of witnesses. Unfortunately, my negativity and shame kept me from being so arrogant to put myself on a level with them. “I’m just a loser, I’m no Jeremiah or Isaiah. I deserve this treatment.”

It was a deep hole. I’m still trying to find a biblical and healthy way to get out of it. I know the answer is in here somewhere.

Even so, come quickly.