I have occasionally coached pastors who serve in such traumatizing settings that I’ve wanted to scream, “RUN OUT OF THERE LIKE YOUR HAIR IS ON FIRE!” I do not say that, though. It’s not my job as a coach to tell a coachee what to do. (It is my job to unearth what coachees know and value and hope and feel and to help them strategize accordingly.)

Here are some signs your congregations might be toxic:

People regularly do not take responsibility for their intended or unintended hurtful words or actions. We all mess up sometimes. That is the nature of being human. Healthy people recognize and apologize when they’ve hurt others. Unhealthy people don’t.

People regularly tell you that you didn’t experience what you know you experienced. The term “gaslighting” has become common parlance these days, and for good reason. Sometimes people will question your reality in order to make you question it.

People who blame and gaslight have substantial power in your context. Every church has some unhealthy people. If they aren’t in staff or lay leadership, their voices don’t ring as loudly in your head. If they are in a position to exert a lot of control, though, that’s when there’s big trouble.

There’s no accountability for people who act in harmful ways. No one has - or will exercise - the ability to apply consequences to unrepentant powermongers.

There’s no clarity about congregational processes, or processes work differently than stated. This keeps the system in constant upheaval and allows the biggest influences to get their way.

The spirituality of those with power generally remains very surface. There is no desire to wrestle with what the gospel means for our lives. Instead, leaders are guided by personal preference at every turn.

I admire the tenacity of pastors who hold on in the midst of abusive circumstances. I know there are sometimes legitimate reasons (e.g., financial concerns) that pastors stick it out, no matter how bad things get. And, there may be a minister out there who needs to hear these truths:

You are loved, gifted, and called by God. And you know what? Sometimes the trajectory of that call changes over time. Your evolving call might nudge you to a new ministerial role or context. It might take you out of vocational ministry for a season or forever. Whatever the case, God’s care for and investment in you doesn’t change.

You don’t deserve mistreatment. You don’t deserve to be called names, to have your worth questioned, to be overworked to the detriment of your health and relationships, to be paid at less than a living wage, to be objectified, or to endure any other kinds of disrespectful behavior. No one does.

The future of your church doesn’t rest solely on your decision to stay or go. You are a minister - one minister - in Christ’s church. That doesn’t mean you can’t and don’t make an impact. (Even in the worst of circumstances, you are planting good seed that will eventually flourish in ways you’ll never know.) It does mean that you don’t have to carry your church or The Church on your back.

You are not a lesser minister if you leave a church for the sake of your wellbeing, no matter how long your tenure has been. I have had a church tenure that was less than a year. (Many people have.) I left because of the toxicity. It was not the end of me or of my vocation. In some ways, it was the real beginning. A short stint is not indicative of your faithfulness or your talent. It does show that you love yourself, which is a key part of Jesus’ two greatest commandments.

At the end of the day, you serve God, not the institution of the Church. These are not the same. It might take leaving your church or even the ministry to be able to continue serving God. If so, that is the better way.

I hold out hope for the Church. On its best days it draws us together in authentic community, helps us live more like Jesus, and connects us to God and our neighbors and the created world in a web of interdependence. And, it is an institution run by humans. It comes up short, sometimes waaaaaaaaaay short. There are consequences to that, and ministers often bear the brunt of them.

Anecdotally, it seems like a lot more pastors lately have been contemplating self-harm, and some have followed through. There might be a range of reasons for this, not just the terrific stress of church work. If you are thinking about ending your life, though, and the strain of your ministry is a contributing factor, I have no qualms about telling you to run from that congregation like your hair is on fire and begging you to reach out to a mental health provider and your loved ones. I promise that they all want you to hang around and that they want to help you through whatever trauma you have endured.

Photo by Nagesh Badu on Unsplash.

Note: the blog is moving to Substack! I will cross-post articles here and there in September, then post only on Substack from October onward. You can find me here on Substack.

I am 45 years old as I write this, which puts me squarely at mid-career. I turned 25 the summer I graduated from seminary, and 65 is the age at which I will theoretically retire, though that’s hard to imagine for multiple reasons.

My peers have started to use this midway point to evaluate their ministries and the trajectory of their lives, which I think is a great idea. Here are some of the questions that I think those of us in our 40s need to be considering:

Vocational

How has my call to ministry evolved over time? I went to seminary to prepare for youth ministry, partly because I had never seen a woman in a lead or associate pastor role. I have worked with youth, but most of my ministry has been as a solo or associate pastor and now as a coach. The essentials haven’t changed, just the shape of how I have lived them out. It can both unleash our imaginations and give us an appreciation of what we have done and learned and survived to look back at the twists, turns, and constants in our vocational journey.

How do I fit with where the Church is heading? The Church is - rightfully so - in a big shift. For some of us that is really good news, and we’re excited to see what comes of this transformation. For others of us this reality is daunting, because the Church of today and tomorrow is very different than the Church we were trained to lead. We need to consider where we want to locate ourselves in relationship to where the Church is now and where it might be headed.

What knowledge have I gained in the first half of my vocational life, and how do I want to use it for good? We don’t go through 20 years of ministry without learning a whole lot - about ourselves, about the God we serve and the Jesus we follow, and about the Church and world. Let’s use that hard-wrought wisdom!

What new challenges do I want to take on in the second half of my vocational life, and what skills will I need to develop? This isn’t necessarily about looking for a new context or role, although it could be. It’s more about considering how we want to grow. What tools do I want to add to my toolkit that would benefit my congregation and me, or even that would just bring delight to them and me?

What legacy do I want to leave in my congregation, larger community, and the Church at large? Maybe this relates to the wellbeing we foster in our communities. Maybe it’s creating pathways of welcome for those who need it most. Maybe it’s naming the gifts in others that they can’t see without help. We can’t control what others say about us once we are gone, but we can do what we’re able to infuse our environments with love and hope.

Personal

How do I navigate the realities of being in the Sandwich Generation? I have a child who is 10 and still wants to be close to his mom most of the time (though that could change at any moment). I have a mom who is 70, hangs out with friends multiple times a week, volunteers in her community, and goes on trips by herself (though that could change at any moment). I feel the tug to be with both my son and my mom. I am not alone, as many of my peers - having gotten into the parenting game late like me - have young children and parents who need increasing amounts of help. How do we roll with this, even as we also serve in a vocation that is physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and sometimes financially taxing?

What is my financial situation? It is generally held that mine is the first generation in a while that has not done better money-wise than previous generations. (This might only be true for demographics that have benefitted from generational wealth.) Many of my peers carry loads of debt from school or mortgages or credit cards. Some denominations offer salary guidelines and generous pensions for ministers, while in others we’re on our own to negotiate pay and choose and invest in retirement funds. Now is a good time to assess our entire money picture, looking both backward and forward to make a plan. Thinking and talking about money is not crass. It is a means of care for ourselves and the people we love.

What support systems have I built for now and for later? In ministry our worlds can become very small. We can mostly know and hang around people in our church and our clergy colleagues. We need bigger circles of care for now and later, including both non-churchy (or at least not our church) friends and professional caregivers such as a primary care doctor we trust and a therapist we can confide in.

Mid-career is a great time for intention-setting. We’re not newbies anymore to ministry or to adulting. We know some things. We probably have some stability, though maybe not as much as we’d like. We want to make our remaining professional years count but not crispy-fry ourselves in the process. I hope these questions can help you in looking forward and backward, and I’d love to hear what questions you’d add to this list.

Photo by Luke van Zyl on Unsplash.

“Ministers have the privilege and responsibility of accompanying people through all kinds of joys and hardships. We can offer a comforting presence and serve as a guide in making meaning of all of life’s events. Sometimes, though, something so devastating happens that we might feel less equipped as we’d like. Sometimes we are struggling as others are reaching out to us for help. Covid-19 certainly gave us layer upon layer of personal difficulties and as ministers assisting church members who were hurting. The pandemic will not be our last encounter with crisis, so we could all benefit from a primer on trauma.” Click here to continue reading on the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog.

Photo by Susan Wilkinson on Unsplash.

I have had several conversations with pastors lately about the gifts and challenges of sabbaticals. Here are some of my thoughts after reflecting on those discussions:

Extended time (> 1 month) away for pastors is essential. When ministers take 1-2 week vacations, they are usually just fully relaxing into renewal and replenishment when it’s time to think about re-entering the system. That’s because it takes several days to set aside the heavy mental load that pastors carry all the time.

Pastors’ extended time away is good for congregations. It helps churches remember that they - not their ministers - are the church. It also allows congregation members to exercise leadership and creativity muscles that they often don’t when pastors are around.

Many churches require too long a gap between sabbaticals. Some congregations permit sabbaticals every seven years. While seven might be a biblical number, that length of time between sabbaticals sometimes means that pastors are army-crawling their way to that milestone, utterly depleted at that point and wondering if ministry is sustainable over the long term.

Rest is not something any of us - pastors and non-pastors alike - needs to earn. Sabbatical policies, whether they are set up for every seven, five, or even four years, imply that they are a reward for hanging on that long. (There's a big difference between offering sabbatical out of a recognition that ministry is hard work and using it as a carrot.) Rest, though, is part of living into God’s likeness in us. God wove rest into the very design of creation.

The one-year clause keeps ministers locked in and resentful. Most sabbatical policies come with a caveat: the pastor must return for at least a full year of ministry following an extended break away. I think the intention here is to keep ministers from disappearing into the ether during sabbatical. However, this requirement 1) often comes with the every-seven-year sabbatical policy (at which point pastors are burned out), 2) implies that the sabbatical not only is a reward for hard work but also that there are also strings to that “gift,” and 3) suggests that congregations don’t trust their ministers to do right by them.

Sabbaticals aren’t one-size-fits-all (for pastors or churches). Some ministers might want a month off every year instead of a far-off sabbatical, while others might need three months at a stretch for travel. Some churches can tolerate the pastor being gone for longer, while others might have circumstances that make it more necessary for the minister to take more regular breaks for shorter lengths of time.

All of this is to say that sabbaticals are good and necessary, but they can be even better if we rethink them.

Photo by Mantas Hesthaven on Unsplash.

“Laypeople might not know this, but many pastors struggle with loneliness. This might seem strange since our work is so people-centered. We are a member of yet isolated from our congregations. There are certain boundaries we must implement to be good ministers. We often must move away from our support systems to find ministry positions. We tend to work long hours, hours unlike other professionals, that make it tough to develop relationships outside of our vocational lives.” Read more about why this loneliness is a problem we must solve and my thoughts on how to do that at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship blog.

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash.

I have previously written about how much Tricia Hersey’s book Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto has spoken to me. (Here is the list of simple rest practices I developed for Lent after I read it.) This rest is faithful. It is what we need for our own wellbeing. And it is a tool for liberation. Last week I expanded on these thoughts with a piece at Baptist News Global. Click here to read “The rest we must have.”

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash.

With the start of Lent, many pastors are looking ahead to some hard-earned rest after Easter. Here’s a resource I created last year that can help you plan ahead to get the most out of your time away.

If I had to bet, the week after Easter Sunday (followed closely by the week after Christmas) is the most common period for pastors to take vacation. You will have accompanied your congregation from the wilderness to the foot of the cross to the empty tomb. That is quite a journey. You’ll be ready to rest.

Having a vacation to look forward to is a great start. But have you ever felt like it’s just as much work to get ready to be away as it is just to keep on plowing ahead? Have those extra tasks worn you out so much that you’re just returning to baseline, not even close to refreshment, when vacation is over? You’re not alone.

That’s why I have created a vacation prep sheet. It prompts you to record your hopes and intentions for your time away, then to sift and break down what you need to do beforehand in order to live into them. This sheet can be helpful to you the week before vacation, but it will be even more useful if you start using it further out. Feel free to download the sheet for your own use or to share it with others. Happy rejuvenating!

In its report “Twenty Years of Congregational Change,” Faith Communities Today reported in 2020 that 44% of all US congregations averaged 50 or fewer attendees each week, with another 25% falling into the 51-100 attendee category. I would not hesitate to hypothesize that the numbers of churches in these size ranges have grown in the past two years. What this means is that there likely is a growing number of churches led by part-time pastors.

This reality presents some challenges, of course. It is becoming harder for pastors - and particularly associate pastors - to find full-time congregational ministry positions. They might need to piece together multiple jobs in order to bring in the income they need to pay monthly bills and to chip away at student debt. They are harder pressed to secure benefits such as health insurance, which typically come only with full-time roles. (I’m happy to get on my soapbox about why insurance should not be tied to employment, but that’s a conversation for another time.) It can be complicated to align the work schedules of two or more jobs.

But even as the numbers trend toward smaller churches with reduced financial resources, there are some real opportunities here. I am privileged to know some pastors who are purposely and purposefully serving in part-time pastor roles. I have learned a lot from them about the beauty of multi-vocational work. (I highly recommend that you check out Rev. Rachel McDonald’s substack “My Other Job.” She has taught me a lot!) Here are some of the advantages to part-time pastorates:

Pastors’ identities are separated from their congregational ministry positions. In this season of discernment and pastoral turnover, I’m hearing an amplified version of a theme that has often run through coaching conversations: Who am I if I am not the leader of [insert name of church here]? Ministers’ sense of self easily becomes intertwined with their roles at particular points in time, making the thought of vocational change - even welcome change - an existential threat. Having more life outside of the congregational context helps pastors sort out who is the person and what is the role.

Churches and pastors can cultivate more intentionality around work and rest. When pastors are paid for twenty hours a week, both they and their congregations must think more about what is essential for the pastor to do - and not do. This practice can lead to more focus on mission and values rather than all the tasks that get lumped under “other duties as assigned.”

Pastors’ income is not wholly dependent on one source. This offers pastors freedom not just in a financial sense but also in allowing them to take more faithful risks in preaching and teaching. This gives them permission to offer the gentle challenge that can lead to significant spiritual growth.

Laypeople can discover and use gifts they never knew they had. When pastors lay down some responsibilities, that creates space for others to take them up. There are no doubt others in your church who can deliver a good word from the pulpit. Pastoral care can become congregational care. People can tap into their convictions and connections to initiate new ways for fellow members to serve. This is the priesthood of all believers at work!

Pastors’ relational networks expand. Many pastors lament that they don’t have time or energy to make friends or serve the community outside of their ministry role. With more time available, they can meet a whole new demographic of people at another job. They can have interests and hobbies that have nothing to do with church. They can establish friendships with peers who are not clergy. They don’t have to be The Pastor in every space.

Churches’ ministries are not as built around programming. A lot of churches are still solidly buying into the attractional model: if we have a great [children’s ministry, youth ministry, etc.], people will come. Maybe, if you’re a megachurch. But most people are looking for relationships, not one more thing to add to the calendar. Having a minister who doesn’t have work time to start and staff programs takes off this pressure to overschedule and properly reorients planning toward mission.

Pastors can flex different muscles. Related to several of the points above, pastors have made themselves (or allowed others to make them) one-dimensional. But God made us all much more complex and contradictory than that! When pastors are part-time, they can try new things or use skills that don’t get called upon in ministry. This faithfully un-flattens them.

I have a lot of hope for the Church and for its impact on the world in the coming years. I don’t think the future of the Church, though, lies necessarily in bringing in waves of new members and their wallets. The part-time trend will only grow, and it’s much better to be proactive in moving from full-time to part-time staffing structures than to hang on to old ways of leading and being until the coffers are depleted. If you want to read about how to make this shift well, I highly recommend G. Jeffrey MacDonald’s 2020 book Part-Time Is Plenty: Thriving Without Full-Time Clergy.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash.

Recently I surveyed pastors about what their biggest challenges and greatest joys are in this season of ministry. This article on the CBF blog about the challenges and ways to address them is part one of a two-piece series based on those survey results.

Photo by Jukan Tateisi on Unsplash.

October is Pastor Appreciation Month, but like all Hallmark observances, this observance really points toward the need to value who your pastor is and what your pastor does all the time. Recently Rev. Joanna D’Agostino, pastor of Lakewood Congregational Church in Ohio, told me about the ways her congregation supports her. She graciously agreed to guest write a post about what this care looks like, what it means to her, and how other churches might show appreciation to their leaders. Below are her good words in response to my questions.

On a recent call with Laura, I was sharing about some of my frustrations with ministry and church, time-management and focus, and just the heaviness of it all. But I felt the need to clarify to her, “I have so much support from my church.” Ministry is really hard, but it’s a game-changer to be a part of a church that values my health and my clarity of call and recognizes that we are in Covenant with one another. I’ve felt this at both churches I’ve served over the course of 10 years of ministry, but I don’t think I’m in the majority in that regard. 

What are a few specific ways your congregation has shown that it values your ministry?

Small ways: They laugh with me. We’re silly together. It’s really in the little things – we have a bust of William Shakespeare that our custodian moves to a different, unexpected part of the building every week or so, just for fun. Recently someone put googly eyes on it, which makes it even funnier. We have a pretty robust musical theater ministry, which means every once in a while someone pops into the office with some costume elements they picked up at the thrift store. We test them out, and we just laugh.  

I have occasionally talked about the fact that I played the bassoon through college, but stopped playing when I graduated because I didn’t own one. Recently a church member, who is the band director at a local high school, came into worship and handed me a bassoon reed (it’s a double-reed instrument) and said, “You now have a bassoon on loan in the music office. We expect you to play in the church talent show.” (Yes, we have a church talent show!) So, now I’m trying to learn how to play again. It doesn’t seem like your traditional understanding of “support,” but it reminds us to find joy. Always find joy. 

Larger ways: They pay me well. It feels so obvious that justice-oriented churches should pay their pastors well. Unfortunately, it isn’t a given. I know budgets are tight and times are hard. It’s not always simple. But the reality is many pastors don’t know how they’re going to pay their energy bill, and it is really hard to do good ministry from a place of personal scarcity. In many ways, that’s a whole different blog topic, but I guess I’ll just say this: It is worth the budgetary stretch to pay your pastors well. (P.S. I’m not trying to say I’m making millions over here; just that I have enough.) 

They trust me to make decisions about my time. I’ve heard a lot of pastors talk about their congregants critiquing their schedules: that they’re in the office too much or not enough; they don’t attend enough meetings or need to do more home visits; they should work on their sermons more or be more visible in the community. Time management for pastors is incredibly challenging. Ministry is in the interruptions– and there are so, so, so many interruptions. And on top of that, many of those interruptions are confidential, so we can’t explain why our focus for the day changed so drastically. Especially in a small-staff church, the work of a pastor falls almost entirely under “other duties as assigned.” We might have a plan for the day, but one interruption can send it off the rails. The point is – hearing critiques from church members about how we spend our time is really just salt in the wound that leads pastors to feeling so deeply misunderstood and underappreciated for the hard work of prioritizing when everything feels important. 

I’ve rarely met a pastor who wasn’t working hard. It means a lot to be surrounded by people who really believe we’re doing the best we can.

What difference does that support make for how you show up as a pastoral leader? 

The churches I’ve served have helped me to see that I can lead from a baseline of grace. That means I don’t have to show up perfectly every time. Not every sermon is going to be out of the park. Some days I’m going to be in a bad mood. I show up knowing that the worst case scenario is that “tomorrow is another day to try again.” The worst-case scenario is that someone will come to me and say, “You know, I had a bad day too. You’re not alone.” Sometimes the most beautiful pastoral care moments flow from just being human with other humans. 

And, to return to the point I made about laughing: perfection isn’t very funny anyway. Messing up is funny. Being a human with other humans is funny. And humor is so very, very full of grace. 

What advice would you give to a church wanting to show appreciation to a minister, particularly in this season when pastoral burnout is rampant?

1. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Choose your battles. A bulletin typo isn’t the hill to die on, I promise.

2. When was the last time you asked your pastor how they’re doing? Not, “Good morning, how are you?” but a real, genuine, “How is it with your soul?” Ask it. They might cry. The answer might not be what you want to hear. But I cannot overstate the importance of just letting pastors (or anyone, really!) know we genuinely care about their well-being.

3. I remember once when a colleague asked two questions that I have carried with me: 1. What brings you the most joy in your ministry? 2. Does your congregation know that? I really think it’s easy to lose track of why we’re in this work to begin with. It’s especially easy to lose track of it if we haven’t let our congregation know. If you’re a congregant, my advice is: ask your pastor about their call story. Ask them about where they see God in their ministry today. Ask them what brings them joy in ministry. If you’re a pastor you might need to offer some prompting: tell your call story. Tell your church where you saw God this week. Tell them why you’ve dedicated so much of your life to this messy human institution. Because when we begin to tell stories about discipleship and grace and joy, we start to remember why church matters, and that’s where the Spirit thrives. 
   

Hopefully we are now nearing the end of Covid-19 as a defining reality of our lives. The effects of the pandemic are likely to be long lasting, though. Finances (personal and institutional), politics (since Covid became such a wedge issue), and relationships (deepening or stretching, sometimes to the breaking point) are a few of the areas in which we will all continue to deal with fallout.

In my work I talk with a lot of clergy who are having a crisis of vocation either brought on or amplified by the pandemic. But I’m noticing that in general the repercussions vary according to when each pastor entered the system:

Those who were already contemplating retirement or a change in contexts. These pastors tried to hang on for a bit to get their congregations through the pandemic. When it became clear that the end of Covid was not imminent, many (understandably) decided to make their exits rather than persist under the stress of pastoring during a pandemic.

Those who were serving in their context for more than a year pre-Covid. These pastors got a full cycle of firsts under their belts before the pandemic arrived and put everything familiar in disarray. They had had some time to understand their contexts, build trust, and inhabit the role of leader. (They also had had enough exposure that they had begun to develop detractors, as happens in any pastorate.)

Those who had served less than a year but had at least led during a major liturgical season (e.g., Advent) pre-Covid. Going through major observances and signature events together often serves to bond pastor and people in mutual ministry. The relationships were still new and fragile, though.

Those who started their roles in January, February, or early March 2020. Many of these pastors are really struggling. They started a position and didn’t even get their feet underneath them before the floor dropped out. With varying degrees of success they have cobbled together their understanding of congregational culture and their ever-altering place in it.

Those who changed churches mid-pandemic. Some of these leaders are only just now getting to know their people in person after lots of time together online. They had to try to build relationships in less traditional ways, and sometimes they had to launch experiments and make decisions without all of the information that in-person community offers.

Those who are coming into new-to-them churches in this pre-post-Covid time. The Covid fog seems to be clearing, and now a new phase of the work begins. Pastors in new-to-them churches are, then, jumping into big questions without the benefit of the honeymoon period that many ministers enjoyed in The Before. How do we right-size our infrastructure? Are these people we haven’t seen in a long time gone for good? Do we keep up hybrid worship or switch back to fully in-person? What will the polarization of the last election and the partisanship around Covid mean for relationships among church members? What work around anti-racism is more possible and pressing now that we have physically re-gathered?

I make these distinctions to highlight that the pandemic has been challenging to all pastors (and all people!) and that there are nuances to the issues. I hope that lining out the obstacles to thriving for each group helps leaders locate themselves and begin to see why varying aspects of Covid have been harder or easier depending on each pastor’s level of rootedness in the context. Naming the barriers is the first step toward strategizing ways to minimize or maneuver around them.

A note to congregations: not every pastor is in vocational crisis. Some are even thriving. But all are attending to the challenges that the pandemic has presented to them as clergy and as humans. Please keep this in mind when your hopes for your church or your expectations for your minister’s leadership do not align with what is unfolding.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash.

Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I’d second that and add that it’s also a killer of calling.

Lots of pastors suffer under the weight of comparison. Sometimes it’s parishioners who are holding up one clergyperson against another, whether in their words or in their thoughts. “Our former minister did it this way.” “If only you could be more like the pastor at the church across town.”

At other times we take our own measurement against another clergyperson. “I wish I could be the beloved [preacher, pastoral care giver, etc.] this other minister is.” “How does that pastor get it all done? I feel exhausted, and I’ve only accomplished a fraction of what she seems to do.”

Comparison comes from a scarcity mindset. Someone (you, me, or another person) is not enough. Together we do not have enough. It keeps us from fully connecting with one another, because we feel defensive to protect what is ours. As a result, we do not come together in the kind of community that celebrates and inter-weaves the distinctions among us. We do not fully trust God’s intentions or presence, thinking something essential is being withheld from us.

The impact for pastors (for anyone under the microscope of comparison) can be devastating spiritually, emotionally, relationally, and often even physically as our exhaustion from trying too hard adds up. We feel unseen, unheard, not valued. We can’t imagine that God has brought us, with our lack of skills or experience, to serve these people. Or we can’t imagine that God has brought us to serve these people, with their lack of graciousness.

Here’s the deal. In his book Flourishing in Ministry: How to Cultivate Clergy Well-Being, Matt Bloom noted there are more than sixty (!) separate pastoral competencies. And that was before the pandemic, during which many ministers added other skills out of necessity. Here, then, are some things that clergy and congregants need to know:

No minister is great at every pastoral competency. It simply isn’t possible for mere mortals do everything well.

A good-fit leader at another church might be a mismatch for yours. Ministry is highly contextual.

Some gifts are more visible than others. Anyone can hear and see how a pastor preaches (though, it should be noted, not everyone will appreciate the same preaching style). Many aspects of ministry are somewhat invisible. Only particular congregants might know the fullness of a clergyperson’s pastoral care to them. The importance of administrative skills is sometimes only apparent when these gifts are lacking.

Over-functioning is not a virtue. Our culture teaches us that our worth is measured in how much time we put in at work. This is not a biblical value.

Job descriptions matter. Some churches don’t even have them! This is a recipe not just for comparison but also for conflict. Congregations need particular focal points and constellations of gifts in their pastors in different seasons. Job descriptions make it clear what the pastor is responsible for and, by turn, what the congregation’s role is in mutual ministry. This clarity sets appropriate expectations and serves as a touchstone when there are disagreements.

Knowing your skills, values, and purpose is crucial. This goes for clergy and congregations. We will always be rolling a big boulder up a steep hill, the weight of it threatening to crush us, if we aren’t clear-eyed about who we are and what we’re about.

As Christians all of us have only one person truly worth comparing ourselves to - Jesus - and we will always come up short as we are continually redeemed and remade. So instead of measuring people against each other, let’s lean into who we have been created to be and how we’ve been equipped. If we can do this, we can bring our distinctiveness together in unity toward helping bring about God’s reign.

Photo by Dietmar Becker on Unsplash.

Here is the second installment in a new blog series that features clergywomen who are putting fresh expressions of ministry out into the world. My hopes are to amplify their great work, to spark readers’ imaginations, and to encourage pastors who are thinking about new ways of living into their call.

I am excited today for you to learn about Mary Apicella and her fitness business. Mary has served as a pastor and now ministers to bodies and spirits by integrating personal training with the movements of the liturgical calendar. I particularly celebrate her work with pre- and post-natal women and wish I had had someone like Mary to help me tend to my physical recovery from a C-section after my child was born. Mary works with all kinds of clients, and she has a heart for clergy moms, knowing well the stresses and joys of the pastoral life and of parenting. She is credentialed as a personal trainer through the National Academy of Sports Medicine (NASM) and as a Pre/Postnatal Fitness Specialist through PRONatal Fitness. I asked Mary to share about her ministry and the hurdles and helps to it. Check out her responses below.

What is your ministry all about?

Sacred Salt is my integration of faith and fitness. I create workouts and exercise programs that follow the liturgical church calendar, as opposed to the typical January to December calendar year. While I created these workouts with clergy, specifically congregational pastors, in mind, these workouts fit any lay leader or congregational volunteer who also finds themselves busier, even overwhelmed, during certain moments in the church year as they participate in the life and story of the church.

You've created a brand-new ministry, unlike anything else out there. What are the sources of your inspiration, courage, and support?

I initially created this practice just for myself when I was a solo pastor straight out of seminary as a way to maintain the exercise routine I enjoyed as a grad student with constant access to a campus fitness center. I knew spring and late fall/early winter would be busier times because of the extra services and time commitments of Lent and Advent, so I tried to schedule my workouts in a way that would complement, not compete with, the energy and focus I needed to pastor my congregation and do the work of ministry.

The name “Sacred Salt” came out of a sermon I preached on Matthew 5, specifically the 13th verse, where Jesus reminds his hearers that we “are the salt of the earth.” Jesus wasn’t telling the people to go off and figure out how to be salt. Rather, he was reminding them of what they already were: human beings created with two ways of producing salt – sweat and tears.

When Jesus said to be salt for the earth, I believe he meant to be so completely in relationship and community with others that you break a sweat and break into tears – whether they be joy, grief, rage, or laughter. In that way, the salt we’re made with becomes sacred when we share it with others, preserving the earth and the world around us.

In the fall of 2020, I was in the midst of two huge identity shifts: I’d resigned as a congregational pastor in mid-June of that year, and 8 weeks later gave birth via emergency c-section to my daughter. I felt unmoored, and the COVID-19 pandemic was just an added layer of ongoing bewilderment to the chaos I’d been feeling. All those identity questions I thought I’d thoroughly answered reared their heads again: Who am I, now? What do I want to do? How do I want to get there?

In the middle of all this, I received a phone call from a friend who knew I’d been going through some transitions and perhaps suspected some of what I was feeling. She offered me an opportunity to be the physical health and wellness coach for a year-long “Thriving in Ministry” program funded by the Lilly Foundation. The program would be completely virtual, and I would meet with cohorts of pastors as well as offer 1-1 sessions with individuals to talk about health, wellness, and exercise throughout all of 2021. And everything would be funded by the grant for the whole year. I was overjoyed. What had felt like disoriented wandering around a fog-draped maze became a little less foggy as more of the path appeared.

I’m forever thankful for that conversation, the leaders of the Thriving in Ministry program, and the participants who helped me grow, regain my confidence and clarity as a leader, and who trusted me to come alongside them as they made changes to become healthier, stronger, and happier. I’m especially thankful to the 4 pastors who also welcomed me into their lives as a trainer for prenatal and postpartum work, and who have named what I do now, “ministry.”

What obstacles have you faced to launching your ministry, and how are you overcoming or managing them?

As convenient as virtual training is, it is also a challenge since I am not in the same physical space as the people I train. When doing virtual personal training, all of us become our own tech and set crews to adjust lighting, camera angles, and finding the right position to be in to observe form while moving. It’s a mindset shift to find some levity in doing all that work, and it has also made me a better communicator and trainer since I’m relying on verbal feedback from my clients to determine how each movement feels. This is a benefit to my clients as well, since they need to be more in tune with their bodies in order to let me know if something is or isn’t working. When I create the Sacred Salt workout videos, I don’t have any feedback in real time, since folks can do them according to their schedules. That can make it difficult to offer enough variations to make movements challenging but doable, but as I get to know the people receiving these workouts, I ask for requests and do my best to offer what they’d like and enjoy doing.

For whom is your ministry really good news? Why?

Sacred Salt is really good news for folks who do their best to love Jesus, love the church, love themselves, and struggle to do all of that consistently without neglecting the latter in service of the two formers. These workouts come from a lived experience of pastoring full-time and wanting to find ways to care for myself physically, which helped keep me healthy mentally, emotionally, and vocationally. Connecting exercise to the story of faith helps the story come to life for me in wonderful and surprising ways. It’s my joy to help others discover that as well.

What's the best way for people to get more information about your ministry? 

My site, www.maryapicellafitness.com, is set up as a pre/postnatal virtual personal training website, but in the Venn diagram of my two passions, pastors and pre/postnatal folks, I am trying my best to weave them together on one website. There is a “Sacred Salt” tab at the top of the menu bar for folks who’d like to learn more, explore the video library of full-length workouts and demonstrations, as well as the extra “workouts with the saints” for various feast days, and try them all for free for 7 days.

Thank you, Mary, for sharing about your ministry and inviting others into it!

We all need to take time to tend to ourselves. This is not being selfish. It is being practical (humans require regular down time and maintenance), and it is being faithful (God did not make us to go without stopping until we break).

The term self-care has become so all-encompassing as to become almost meaningless, however, without carving out some smaller categories under that rather large umbrella. Here are some kinds of self-care that I think we all need in varying amounts:

Escaping. Sometimes we simply cannot deal or are so tired that we need to withdraw until we recover, though I’d add we probably require less of this kind of self-care through passive consumption than we think. This is a good time to read a novel or binge tv shows on our favorite streaming service. (Note that I do not advocate numbing through substances.)

Tending to health. We are worth taking care of our bodies, minds, and souls. We deserve to be treated by professionals who see and value us and want to help us live well. Seeking out doctors and therapists and spiritual companions can be hard because we feel fear or shame, because good care options are hard to access or pay for, and because it can take big chunks of time, but it also feeds all other forms of self-care.

Completing the stress cycle. In their book Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, Amelia Nagoski and Emily Nagoski talk about how stress lingers beyond the stressful situation if we do not go all the way through the feeling once we’re in a safe place. Often we need a physical action to help with this, like punching a pillow, yelling at the top of our lungs, or dancing it out.

Having fun. Screen/life balance expert Catherine Price encourages us to play more in her book The Power of Fun: How to Feel Alive Again. She identifies three characteristics of True Fun, which are playfulness (no judging self or others), connection (with God, people, or the environment), and flow (being fully present and engaged). I think we all need a lot more of this kind of self-care than we usually get.

Intentionally doing nothing. Brene Brown talks about no-agenda, non-doing time in which we simply allow ourselves to be. We’re not trying to produce. We are simply giving all aspects of our being a break so that we can return to ourselves, trusting the world to go on while we’re not doing something to fix it.

What other self-care categories would you add to these? Which kind of self-care do you need most right now? How might you get it?

Photo by Max van den Oetelaar on Unsplash.

Lately I have heard many variations of one question: what does sustainability in ministry - in anything - look like in this weird, hard time? It’s a great question. Thriving might feel out of reach right now for those who are really struggling. (By the way, it’s ok to struggle. We all do sometimes!) But maybe we can reasonably aspire to durability until the possibility of flourishing breaks the plain of our horizon.

Here are some thoughts about what we might be able to say if we are locked into sustainability:

I am not in this alone. I have people. People to minister alongside, peers in ministry I can be honest and strategize with, loved ones beyond my work context who welcome my entire self.

I/we have the means to figure this out. Our world is serving up a lot of sticky wickets. But neither is the challenge too high nor my/our talents too negligible to deal with what is before me/us, even if there’s a lot of trial and error involved.

I can take a break without the world crashing down around me. I know that everything is not riding on me - or that if it is, I and those around me could use a lived reminder that that’s not healthy.

I am good (and so are others). Not perfect, mind you, but fearfully and wonderfully made and deeply loved just as I am by God.

I see glimmers of where I/we are making an impact. I am not just shouting into the void - at least not all of the time. I am helping some people feel seen and be connected to God and one another, and I am planting other seeds that might bear fruit I never know of.

I can laugh - and laugh about more than just the absurdity of things. There is delight in my world through the things I take in via my senses and through the people I encounter.

I am using my gifts, even if it’s not in the ways I expected. Who knew that this talent could be put to that use? Well, now I do.

I have room to maneuver. I can’t control everything, as much as I’d like to be able to. But there are some areas where I can and do exercise some agency.

I might not be the biggest fan of this season of life/ministry, but it is only a season. I know things won’t be this hard forever.

I notice and respond kindly to what my body is telling me. I need sleep. I need food. I need a brain break. I need an appointment with my doctor or therapist. Our bodies are our wonderfully made to give us the information we require to take care of them - and they are so very worthy of that tending.

I am growing in my sense of who I am and what I can do. There is some sense of wonder: “could it be that I am here for such a time as this?” This time might not be my first choice, but it is the time I have.

Which of these statements apply to you? What are some tweaks you could make to grow into the ones that don’t? What statements would you add to or take away from this list?

Photo by Appolinary Kalashnikova on Unsplash.

On this day two years ago, I attended my last in-person Sunday morning worship service. It was a surreal event. Only a handful of people were there, and we acted like kids worried about catching cooties from one another. My spouse (the pastor) was trying to figure out how to angle his phone for Facebook Live, something he had never experimented with before. After worship our family of three hustled home and didn't re-emerge for weeks, only doing so once we realized that Covid was not a blip and we’d have to get groceries at some point.

In some ways the start of the pandemic feels like a decade ago. The degrees of isolation and the ebb and flow of the virus have stretched out the time, plus we have learned more about Covid and ways to neutralize it than seems possible in such a short span. In other respects, though, the beginning of lockdown feels very fresh. Anniversaries - I would like to find another word for a somber annual remembrance, by the way - can make objects in the rearview mirror appear closer than they are. The sense memories enfold us and transport us to the states of mind, body, and spirit prompted by the original experience. (“On this day” reminders on social media and in our photo apps only enhance this effect.) For me that means high anxiety born of uncertainty, which manifests as body tension and mental and physical fatigue. Your reactions might be similar or altogether different, but you aren’t alone if you notice something in your being at this two-year mark that isn’t quite explained by current circumstances.

We’re holding a mixed bag as we come to this past-present mingling. We are in Lent, one of those marathon stretches in the liturgical calendar for pastors. This season both gives us a helpful focus and lengthens our to-do lists. We seem to be in a new, more hopeful phase of the pandemic. This reality brings increased possibilities for gathering and can also prompt foreboding joy: When is the next variant coming? What does the decreased attention to virus precautions mean for the big questions we’ve not had space to reckon with but now need to address? And while there is no declared war on American soil, we worry for those facing aggression in other regions of the world, bound to them as we are by our common humanity.

I name all of this to encourage you to be gentle with yourself. Acknowledge your limits. Leave things undone when needed. Take naps. Eat good food, however you define it. Move your body. Spend time with people you love. Do “unproductive” things that delight you. Look for beauty. Along the way don’t forget to keep your eyes peeled for God working - or modeling rest! - in the margins, the crevices, the cracks of daylight offered by a slightly opened door.

Remember that while memories can crash the present and the future is always on our minds, life happens in real time. Be there for it all, the hard and the holy, knowing sometimes there is little distinction between the two.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

Few pastors are carrying out their same position in the ways they did in February 2020. But most associate pastors and ministers of particular demographics or specialized areas aren’t doing their same job, period. At some point during Covid, Ministers of Youth became Ministers of YouthAndChildren. Ministers of Music morphed into Ministers of MusicAndSeniorAdults. Ministers of Missions transformed into Ministers of MissionsAndFacilitiesAndWeekdaySchool. You get the idea.

There are several reasons this melding of roles happened. The pandemic prompted or hastened staff transitions. Congregations’ pre-existing financial anxieties ramped up when there was no in-person worship during which the plate could be passed. (Those worries increased even more when members failed to show back up as the sanctuary doors reopened.) And when Covid turned out to be more state of suspended animation than blip, it was hard for churches to shift into a forward-moving gear. All of this translated into congregations’ desire to operate with what they knew, and what they knew was that they had capable, committed people on staff.

And these capable, committed people said yes to whatever was handed to them. Maybe they said yes because they wanted to do all they could to minister to their people during a tough time. Maybe it was because they wanted to stretch themselves. Maybe it was because they were already steeped in macro and micro cultures of workaholism. Maybe it was because they felt like they had no room to say no, because they were not in charge.

Now, though, many of these Ministers of AllTheThings are wrung out. This is a problem, because some of them are in their first call and wondering if congregational work will be like this always and everywhere. Some of them don’t have the emotional and financial support they need, whether in the congregation or beyond it, to build more sustainable patterns. Some of them are asking themselves whether their position(s) will survive the next budget cut anyway, and as a result they are actively searching job postings.

Solo or senior pastors, for all the struggles they have endured during Covid (and these are legion), have had some degree of what many associate and specialized ministers have not - agency. Simply feeling like you have a modicum of control over your circumstances makes a big difference emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. So let’s think about how heads of staff and lay leaders can offer more say to the programmatic pack mules of the pandemic.

Actively support the creation of a pastoral relations committee. A PRC is a group of people that actively supports - and at times even advocates for - the minister. It is different from a personnel committee, which is often involved in performance reviews and budgeting and serves as an intermediary between the congregation and all staff members. When they function optimally, PRCs are the groups within churches to which a minister is able to bring both professional and personal celebrations and concerns.

Set the minister up with co-journeyers beyond the congregation. Even big churches are small worlds, and ministers need someone beyond those realms for accompaniment. Mentors can give advice. Coaches can help ministers strategize around challenges and goals. Therapists can guide ministers in addressing wounds in their lives. Spiritual directors can assist ministers with staying grounded in a relationship with God. Any of these kinds of companions could be helpful to a minister who feels overburdened.

Re-examine every piece of the minister’s compensation package. If a minister is doing more work, then more compensation is due. This is not just cash salary, it’s time away and professional development funds as well. Simply recognizing and rewarding a minister with more money and benefits can go a long way in helping a hardworking minister feel valued and empowered.

Communicate, then communicate some more. Disrupted lines of communication and connection have made everyone’s lives harder during Covid. Imagine that stress on top of exponentially more work. Prioritize regular check-ins with associate ministers as well as other staff. Ask them what they need instead of waiting for them to come to you. Share what you’re doing and even how you’re feeling. This can be a moment not just for helping second-chair ministers not feel so lonely but also deepening mutually-supportive relationships.

Get your minister some hands-on help. It’s time to stop staffing out of scarcity. Think about what God is inviting your church to do, and staff for that. In the meantime (and when the church is fully staffed once again), encourage lay people with bandwidth to offer their time and talents and grow as disciples in the process.

Bless you, Ministers of AllTheThings. You have done so much to keep your church going. Sometimes you might feel invisible, but rest assured that you are invaluable.

Photo by Ferenc Horvath on Unsplash.

Last summer my husband, son, and I took our first trip to the beach in three years, a long stretch away since we live in a coastal state. We were so eager to get sand in every crevice and to feel ourselves buoyed by the waves that we plunged into the ocean, noting but not getting too hung up on the red flag flapping by the beach access walkway. We were far from alone in being carefree – the shoreline was dotted with happily bobbing heads.

It was a lot of fun. It was also nerve-wracking to watch my guys go out farther than I was comfortable. The undertow was a force to be reckoned with in those red flag conditions. No matter how strong a swimmer you are, the current can suck you under and disorient you without warning.

As far back as a year and a half ago, once it became clear that Covid was not going to be a mere blip, I started talking about the impending tidal wave of pastoral transitions. The constant pivots, the isolation, the extra work, the inability to do the ministry to which they’d been called in satisfying ways, the conflicts over pandemic precautions and racial injustice and the 2020 election – all of it was going to be too much to allow some clergy to remain in their positions. And indeed, there has and continues to be unprecedented turnover in pastoral leadership.

I wonder, though, whether a tidal wave is still the most helpful image. I think back to being up to my knees in ocean water, seeing my fearless, capable husband and son disappearing under waves and holding my breath until they popped back up. That undertow is sneaky, I kept saying. It can get you no matter how tough you are. Now I stand on the fringes of congregational ministry, coaching some pastors and offering friend support to others. I know they are gifted and called. I’m familiar with the very good work they do with creativity and care. And, the fatigue that comes from continually fighting the current of all that ministry demands right now is obvious in their slumped shoulders, undereye circles, and shallow breaths. Some of their bobbing heads go under the waves and do not re-emerge in my line of sight. Instead, a few eventually come up down the shoreline at another congregation while others drift out to leaves of absence or to different ways to make a living.

This is where we are. Covid and all that has accompanied it have worn us down, and the undertow can pull under even the most stalwart among us. This is not a personal failing. It simp­ly the reality of where we find ourselves at the two-year mark of pandemic. That doesn’t mean that everyone is doomed to the whims of the tide, however. If we can find support, we can remain one of those (relatively) contentedly bobbing heads out in the water. Here’s how judicatory leaders and congregations can help:

Judicatory leaders

Pastors – all pastors – need respite right now. They could use your help to get it. They need your permission and encouragement to take time away. They need your advocacy with and education of their churches so that they don’t fear for their jobs if they do take time off. They need your connections to find coverage for preaching and pastoral care, or at least your willingness to lead worship online or pre-record services for your entire judicatory. They need funding from you to get a change of scenery, something we could all use after two years of semi-lockdown. They need referrals to counselors and spiritual directors and coaches who can help them navigate whatever comes when they return from an extended sabbath. ­This is a moment when you can bless all of your clergy and their congregations through your work, judicatory leaders.

Congregations

Churches, your pastors love you. And right now they need a break from you so that they can continue their good ministry with you. Be generous with your leaders in every conceivable way. Give them more time away than usual, certainly. If you can afford to cover a retreat experience or sessions with a professional who can help your clergy tool up for wellbeing, do it. But also be lavish with your own time, if you have it. Offer to make congregational care calls. Volunteer for tech crew or event set-up. Step up to teach Sunday School, even if only on an occasional basis. Above all, be generous in your judgments of your pastors, who are undoubtedly doing the best they can under prolonged stress. Be flexible when circumstances change. Tell your pastors that you see (even though you don’t see it all) and value what they are doing.

The red flags are out, friends. Let’s all keep an eye out for one another and invite each other to come out of the battering wind and waves as needed. This is what it will take to continue being church in this ongoing pandemic.

Photo by Kai Bossom on Unsplash.

I recently interviewed several pastors for a Doctor of Ministry class assignment. My topic was how the shift to virtual/hybrid ministry during Covid has impacted pastors’ role and vocational identity. Some of these clergy have found renewed hope and purpose in the midst of the chaos. Some of them feel like they have been robbed of the joy of ministry and are hanging on to their jobs by their fingertips. All of them, though, talked in some way about the overwhelm that the pandemic has prompted: the expansion of their position descriptions just as other responsibilities (such as caregiving) ballooned, the decision fatigue, the million mini pivots in ministry, the arguments over Covid precautions, the reduced access to typical stress-reducing strategies, the increased profile and accompanying performance anxiety that has come with uploading or livestreaming worship. The struggle is very, very real.

On Thursday, February 10, I will be joining my clergy colleagues Heidi Carrington Heath and Callie Swanlund in offering a workshop about dealing with this overwhelm. Callie, a Brene Brown Daring Way Facilitator, will help us differentiate between stress and overwhelm. Heidi, a spiritual director and writer, will provide tools for spiritual resilience. I will share a wellbeing assessment to help participants untangle their overwhelm and reclaim agency and presence. And that’s just the first 30 minutes! We’ll take a break after the panelist presentations, then move into 45-minute breakout sessions for deeper dives into the material and for group engagement. After the workshop, participants will have the option to join a 4-week cohort led by one of the three presenters to continue applying insights and tools.

The workshop on February 10 is being hosted free of charge by Practical Resources for Churches, and everyone who registers will receive a recording of the introductory 30-minute panel discussion.

You are not alone in your overwhelm. You also don’t have to stay mired in it. Join Heidi, Callie, and me to begin finding your way out. Register today for the overwhelm workshop.

Last year Advent and Christmas looked different than before for churches that took Covid seriously. In some contexts, worship was online only. In others, max capacity was set by guidelines from the CDC rather than the fire marshal. Masking and physical distancing were required. Musical offerings - often a key aspect of holy observances - were limited. Fewer non-worship seasonal activities such as Advent fairs and Sunday School parties felt safe to schedule. It was really hard to restrict our traditions, our interactions with others, our bodily presences, in this way. It wasn’t how any pastor or layperson would prefer to experience December. But we did it, even if sometimes grumbling or lamenting, for the good of our neighbors. The promise of vaccines in early 2021, along with the Advent message of hope even in perilous times, pulled us through.

Here we are a year later, now confronted with a hope that is much more complicated. Many of us have been vaccinated and even boosted, a true miracle born of the wisdom and abilities God gave scientists. But enough people here in North America decline to get vaccinated and/or to take continued precautions against Covid such that the pandemic is still very much with us. And while some locations have weathered the Delta surge, we are all now staring down the barrel of Omicron. The TBD impact of this variant and the resulting ambiguity around how many precautions we still need to take at church are making this December a moving target for planning.

The threat of the virus itself is just one of many factors making pastoral leadership particularly difficult right now. Parishioners are understandably tired of - and thus lax about - masking and distancing. One pandemic year might not have dinged giving much, but in year two there are big concerns about budgets. Formerly stalwart members have ghosted their churches to go elsewhere or nowhere. Congregations who hoped to bounce back to what church looked like pre-Covid are uneasy with changes based on pandemic gleanings (or necessities). Because of these realities, even some of the wise, steady presences in congregations have begun to complain about unfixable situations and to open doors to conflict. Meanwhile, pastors’ work continues to be as much or more about technology and ever-changing decisions regarding what is safe to do as it is about worship content, formation, and community engagement, deferring their return to the heart of the work they have been called and gifted to do.

I hear all of these factors weighing heavily on many of the clergy I coach, and together they are pushing some pastors to the point of grief at a time when most of them expect to be buoyed by the energy of the season. On top of ministers’ vocational grief, there is the personal grief all of us share. We have been deprived to some extent of the connection for which we are built. We have missed so much of what we looked forward to the past two years. We have been pushed to the brink by worry about health and finances, by additional caregiving responsibilities, by the pandemic (and everything else) being politicized and weaponized.

I see you, pastors. You are faithful, creative, tenacious, and compassionate. Many of you are also so tired in body and soul. Please be gentle with yourselves. Find your appropriate outlets for blowing off steam. Make sure you’re getting enough movement and sunlight and nourishment. Know whom you can lean on for helpful support. Plan for time away. Ask for what you need. And, if all of this is not enough to sustain you physically, emotionally, and spiritually, take your leave (whether for a season or for good) before you are fried. You are serving Jesus’ church, and he lovingly holds it in his hands no matter what role you assume in it. You are God’s beloved, no matter where you work.

The ways that you thoughtfully choose to show up - or not to show up - in this season of holy waiting are helping to midwife a Church that will be more innovative and responsive, that will re-focus us all on God’s priorities and Christ’s love. Advent literally means “coming.” You are the bearers through your presence and your intentional absence not of optimism or toxic positivity but of grounded hope for an emerging time, a new way of being. I am so grateful for who you are.

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash.