The esteem accorded pastors does not end at the Sunday noon hour. It carries through the week.
For many a patient, the pastor’s visit to the hospital room stands out as the highlight of the day. It can feel like CPR for the soul as well as body. Thanks often ring out in response.
Not that the others’ visits don’t matter. There’s just something special about the visit from the priest, er, uh, pastor.
While we Protestants eschew the notion of a special priesthood, we still know that ministers of Word and Sacrament (CLPs, too) serve a priestly function. Or to shift analogies, they move through a community as living icons. Why do folks stop blurting slang expletives when the pastor enters the room? Why are pastors invited to sit at the head table at community events? Why do politicians seek their guidance? Because their chosen vocation — their calling — stands unique, operating incarnationally, embodying the presence of God to those they encounter.
Which leads to a huge problem. Such a priestly privilege, such an iconic incarnation, carries a heavy load.
For many the load is weighted with loneliness. “It’s lonely at the top,” say chief executives. In authentic pastoral ministry, we flip the pyramid upside down, with the servant-leader serving at the bottom. But the uniqueness of the role means that the typical pastor can confide only to a few friends in closest confidence, letting their hair down, cutting loose. Many a pastor has chosen the wrong ones with whom to be “human” and paid a huge price.
For others the load is burdened with guilt. “The doctor didn’t get to the hospital on time,” says the plaintiff’s attorney in a medical malpractice lawsuit. A tardy response by the pastor won’t lead to a court battle, but it may well lead to disappointment in the patient, backbiting among her friends, and unrelenting self-accusations within the minister’s soul.
For others the load is laden with fear. “They really blew it,” says the Monday morning quarterback when the home team suffers an upset. The knowledge that sermon critiques will bounce around the Sunday dinner tables turns many pastors into Saturday night insomniacs; one leading author of scores of Bible study books acknowledges that he turned to writing after vomiting every Sunday morning in the first two years after seminary graduation.
The greatest load carried by some pastors is that of broken relationships. Some have blown it. They’ve mishandled a situation, and now members won’t speak to them. Others have been so painted into the corner by members’ misjudgments that they’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel liked. Whether guilty or innocent, pastors too often get paralyzed by unforgiveness and resentment.
In this pastors’ appreciation month it behooves us all to speak into these challenges. Why not take the pastor out to a movie or a play or, better yet, a football game, so you together can play Monday morning quarterback? Why not send a card that reminds her or him of a time when their presence, their word, their prayer did bring the presence of Christ into your life? Best of all, why not transact forgiveness with your pastor, taking whatever initiative you can muster to apologize or forgive or do both — to clear the air?
The pastor’s first and primary calling is to bear not just the image of the Lord’s holiness but to transact the Savior’s forgiveness. The pastor needs some help along the way. Perhaps you’re the one to offer that help.
It’s fitting to show appreciation via affirmation, via consideration, via reconciliation. Even if we need a set-aside month to prod us.
— JHH
