An open letter to pastors during ridiculously difficult days

A pastor holding a Bible with his back against the wall

Dear pastors,

Let’s just state it: The past few years in ministry have not been what you thought you were signing up for. My guess is that you didn’t pursue a career serving in the Church because your passion for epidemiology didn’t pan out. I’m sure you anticipated conflict, but I doubt you predicted the nuclear reactivity of increasing polarization among parishioners. You likely didn’t expect fully half of your congregation’s wrath to rain down on you no matter what decision you made—or didn’t. And then there’s the weight of knowing that the decisions you make have significant repercussions on both the physical and mental health of your congregants.

You have been carrying a seemingly impossible burden.

If you were here for the money, you’d have left ministry long ago. There are far simpler ways to provide for your family. As a pastor’s kid, I do not envy your job, but I gained some insight into its challenges through osmosis. No matter what decision you make, it feels as though you’re disappointing someone—and many won’t hesitate to let you know when you have. Division and lack of civility seem to be at an all-time high, and “contentious” and “fractious” might better describe some congregations than “compassionate” or “unified.”

A recent Barna poll shared that 46% of pastors under 45 and 38% of pastors overall have seriously considered quitting. We are about to experience a ministry exodus of biblical proportions. And for some—for their good and for the good of their family—that’s unquestionably the right choice.

But there are others who are called to remain. I want to thank you—and to simply remind you that, on your own, you do not have what it takes to endure through this. James writes, “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking” (James 1:5 NLT). Let me remind you that insufficiency is not a design flaw; it’s an invitation to root your hope in the God who called you to a life of service and sacrifice.

Paul wrote to the Corinthians of facing troubles far beyond what he could endure, then concluded, “But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God” (2 Corinthians 1:9, NLT). You don’t have what it takes—but that doesn’t mean hope is lost. Your congregants, too, are struggling—and perhaps your greatest impact in this season will be in modeling where Christ’s followers turn to find hope in times of trial. You can show us what to do when we come to the end of our abilities. Will you look within and muster the resolve to grit it out another day or will you, like Paul, testify, “On him we have set our hope” (2 Corinthians 1:10 NIV)?

We need you in this time to lead us to “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV).

There is always Hope,
Peter Greer

The ill effects of this crisis have been undeniable, and many nonprofit leaders are also feeling disillusioned and discouraged. In response to his own discouragement as a nonprofit leader, Peter co-authored the forthcoming book The Gift of Disillusionment, which looks to the prophet Jeremiah and more than a dozen contemporary leaders from 10 countries around the world for insights on living a life of enduring hope.

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