Ministry can be lonely. The constant white noise of petty criticism. Not meeting impossible expectations. Being misunderstood. Having motives unfairly judged.
Here’s how one pastor found a solution:
Speaking at a recent national gathering of Christian pastors, Pastor Rob Bell of Michigan’s Mars Hill Bible Church described our job as “death by a thousand paper cuts.” Every pastor in that audience immediately thought of the damage done by innumerable and incessant little criticisms, of the impossible-to-meet expectations and demands on the pastor and his/her family. Years and years of feeling taken for granted or not being respected also take their toll on every pastor’s spirit. Yet like God’s elite soldiers, we pastors are trained somehow to endure whatever punishment our deacons and church members can do to us. The only confession they’ll hear from us is “Thanks for sharing your concern with me. God bless you for your honesty.”
It is not so much the ‘paper cuts’ but the ongoing isolation from meaningful contact with other pastors that, in the end, crushes our wills and defeats our spirits.
Years ago, I came to the realization that I—and not anyone else—was cutting myself off from regular, meaningful contact with other local pastors. Consumed by the boundary-less expanse of pastoring, my days, weeks, and months blurred into one continuous ball of concerns, meetings and messages. To remedy this, I called together an eclectic bunch of pastors to meet over lunch on the 4th Tuesday of each month. A few were already friends of mine; others were from nearby churches. Some of the originals are still here, others have dropped out, and each year we add a few more. The only prayer we utter is over our fast-food or leftovers. The rest of the two hours is reserved for sharing concerns, personnel issues, discussing trends, or seeking advice from peers. Being together has been meaningful if only because there is no need to explain what you do or to convince each other of the unique joys and sorrows of our shared calling. We have walked each other through the dark night of a church split. We have tried to parse the underlying issues surrounding ministering to homosexuals and their families. We have enjoyed plotting each other’s upcoming sabbaticals. Currently, we are weighing bringing our churches together to assist homeless families year-round.
Although I host our gathering, no one is ‘in charge.’ It’s really a circle of equals, regardless of the size of our budgets or the state of our churches. It’s become one of those unique groups where pastors aren’t trying to impress each other with factoids that rarely get at what matters to God. The time together goes by quickly. At two o’clock, we part company and scatter back to the broken people and fractured communities that Jesus has called us to love and shepherd. We return to worlds that haven’t been altered by our time with each other. But somehow it makes a huge difference to know that someone really understands and that we are not alone.
Speaking at a recent national gathering of Christian pastors, Pastor Rob Bell of Michigan’s Mars Hill Bible Church described our job as “death by a thousand paper cuts.” Every pastor in that audience immediately thought of the damage done by innumerable and incessant little criticisms, of the impossible-to-meet expectations and demands on the pastor and his/her family. Years and years of feeling taken for granted or not being respected also take their toll on every pastor’s spirit. Yet like God’s elite soldiers, we pastors are trained somehow to endure whatever punishment our deacons and church members can do to us. The only confession they’ll hear from us is “Thanks for sharing your concern with me. God bless you for your honesty.”
It is not so much the ‘paper cuts’ but the ongoing isolation from meaningful contact with other pastors that, in the end, crushes our wills and defeats our spirits.
Years ago, I came to the realization that I—and not anyone else—was cutting myself off from regular, meaningful contact with other local pastors. Consumed by the boundary-less expanse of pastoring, my days, weeks, and months blurred into one continuous ball of concerns, meetings and messages. To remedy this, I called together an eclectic bunch of pastors to meet over lunch on the 4th Tuesday of each month. A few were already friends of mine; others were from nearby churches. Some of the originals are still here, others have dropped out, and each year we add a few more. The only prayer we utter is over our fast-food or leftovers. The rest of the two hours is reserved for sharing concerns, personnel issues, discussing trends, or seeking advice from peers. Being together has been meaningful if only because there is no need to explain what you do or to convince each other of the unique joys and sorrows of our shared calling. We have walked each other through the dark night of a church split. We have tried to parse the underlying issues surrounding ministering to homosexuals and their families. We have enjoyed plotting each other’s upcoming sabbaticals. Currently, we are weighing bringing our churches together to assist homeless families year-round.
Although I host our gathering, no one is ‘in charge.’ It’s really a circle of equals, regardless of the size of our budgets or the state of our churches. It’s become one of those unique groups where pastors aren’t trying to impress each other with factoids that rarely get at what matters to God. The time together goes by quickly. At two o’clock, we part company and scatter back to the broken people and fractured communities that Jesus has called us to love and shepherd. We return to worlds that haven’t been altered by our time with each other. But somehow it makes a huge difference to know that someone really understands and that we are not alone.
Posted by Sam Simmons 
One way to track innovative church trends is to read blogs that are written by innovative church leaders. Here is a list suggested by 
Posted by Sam Simmons 
Posted by Sam Simmons 
