By Corey Fields
I recently attended a retreat for pastors. The facilitator led us through times of worship and discussion about Sabbath-keeping and self-care. The need for this is pretty well documented. The statistics tag pastors with poor physical and mental health relative to the general population. We had gathered for a short 36-hour period to learn, be fed, and just take a Sabbath together.
At one point, the facilitator asked us the primary question from the Lily Endowment’s Clergy Renewal sabbatical grant: “What makes your heart sing?” It’s a profound question that we discovered can be hard to answer. During the retreat, I gleaned some of how my colleagues would answer that question. Some would be more general and expected, like family, hobbies, music, or a favorite destination. But there are others, all of which deeply resonate with me: Giving hope. Praying with people. Relating spiritual truth to real life. Mentoring young people. Fostering and experiencing diversity. Breaking bread together and modeling Christ-like community. Such are the things that make pastors tick, and it was refreshing to reflect on this together.
However, this edifying time was abruptly interrupted for at least one of my colleagues. During a break, several people walking by asked her what was wrong. Her facial expression looked as if the life had just been sucked out of her. She had just checked her email, and received messages from congregation members and other friends in the region. They were not good emails. This time, it wasn’t about a death, tragedy or other serious personal need. Those are certainly hard, but they do not typically demoralize pastors. They are part of what we do. The emails my colleague received during this retreat were from people making demands, threats, and other ominous remarks relating to the issue of gay marriage.
As it turns out, my colleague had clicked “like” on a Facebook photo that a few people saw as advocating the wrong position. She had only clicked on the photo because she knows and loves the young people who appear in it. Nevertheless, she was getting backlash and feared the depletion of an already small volunteer base and perhaps even a threat to her job. I wish I could say such a situation is rare, but studies show otherwise.
Granted: the Supreme Court decision had just been announced, and emotions on this very polarizing issue were still running high. Granted: you have to be careful on social media. But at this retreat, I was taken aback by the contrast. Here I was with a group of people who love even some of the most difficult parts of our job, but just one email with a threat to leave or to divide the body can immediately render us catatonic.
I have a humble plea: go easy on your pastors during this tumultuous time.
Many volatile situations and divisive issues are hitting our airwaves all at once this year. To be sure, there’s plenty of good news to celebrate in our country. Despite public perception and media focus, things like teen pregnancy, smoking, and violent crime (yes, violent crime) in the United States recently reached historic lows. Nevertheless, there is a lot on our cultural plate. Conversations about race and police brutality. Religious freedom. Hate crimes. Terrorism. The Supreme Court this year heard and decided an unusually large number of high profile, high stakes cases on issues beyond gay marriage, including health care, affordable housing, and the death penalty.
A lot is happening at once. It’s a lot to take in. Tensions are high, and opinions are set. The gay marriage debate especially has a lot of religious implications and may be the one most closely related to deeply held beliefs. This makes it a challenging time to be a leader of any church, regardless of theological persuasion.
It’s not that your pastor doesn’t understand. Your pastor likely knows how important these issues are to you. Your pastor likely knows you may be dealing with a lot of life stress or that some of these issues are affecting you personally. Your pastor likely values your opinion and doesn’t want you to feel otherwise. You matter. These issues matter.
But there’s something your pastor is likely trying to do that is often misinterpreted as flakiness or passivity: showing grace.
Jesus talked about the narrow gate that few find (Matt. 7:13-14). In terms of our life together, one of those truly narrow gates is living together as a community of people who may deeply disagree but can still break bread together with glad and sincere hearts (Acts 2:46). The narrow gate is not necessarily staking out a position but trying to reflect the coming Kingdom of God in which we will all sit down at one table. Your pastor may be trying to model Paul’s difficult advice in Romans 14:1-15:3 to resist judging another person’s faith and to build one another up. Your pastor feels culpable when the Body of Christ starts rebelling against itself and eyes start saying to hands, “I don’t need you” (1 Cor. 12:21).
Sometimes as humans we find our world to be a fast-changing place that is disorienting. Your pastor may also be confused and trying to work through the issues himself or herself. Sometimes as humans we grow and change and come to see things in a different way. Your pastor may have changed his or her mind on things but struggles with how to communicate this. Sometimes as humans we make mistakes and have bad days. That can happen to your pastor, and it could happen anywhere from the pulpit to the public park to Facebook. I’ve made a fool of myself in all three of those places and beyond.
Your pastor may not know what to do, and may need your help — and your grace. Your pastor is likely trying to figure out how to get two or more groups of people, all who think that the others are wrong, crazy, or even evil, to stay together in order to serve Christ and the world.
This is in no way an encouragement to disengage. On the contrary, disagree with your pastor. Hold him or her accountable to provide leadership. Have hard conversations. But remember that your pastor is trying to accomplish something difficult and counter-cultural. Go easy.