Part Two of a Two-Part Series for Pastor Appreciation Month
by Rev. Mark Creech
RevMarkCreech.org
October is Pastor Appreciation Month, a time when churches express gratitude for those who faithfully preach God’s Word and shepherd His people. In my previous article, I addressed the dignity of the pastoral office and why I have never apologized for accepting the title “Reverend.” Yet behind that sacred office stands a human being who sometimes bears burdens his congregation knows little or nothing about.
Having spent twenty years in the pastorate and another twenty-seven in Christian public policy advocacy, I have experienced the demands of both callings. I have long believed that, in some respects, pastoral ministry is the more difficult of the two.
A Conversation at the Legislature
Several years ago, a group of pastors concerned about an important social issue before the North Carolina General Assembly traveled a considerable distance to Raleigh to accompany me as I met with lawmakers in their offices in both the House and the Senate.
It was a long day. When it ended, one pastor expressed his appreciation for my work, saying, “Man, I wouldn’t want your job. This is a difficult field.”
I thanked him but replied, “Before entering Christian advocacy in the public square, I spent twenty years in the pastorate. I know what you and your colleagues face daily, and I believe your job is harder.”
I explained that in politics, I expect opposition. People will disagree with me, challenge my positions, and sometimes say harsh things. That comes with the territory. But nothing I have experienced in political advocacy has ever wounded me as deeply as the unfair criticisms I have sometimes encountered from church members.
It is one thing to face opposition from people whose convictions differ from yours. It is another to be wounded by those who profess to be your brothers and sisters in Christ, people from whom you naturally expect Christian love and understanding.
Then I explained that when my workday at the legislature ends, I can usually go home and put the day’s battles behind me. A pastor rarely enjoys that privilege. He lives in a fishbowl. Ministry pressures follow him home, disturb his peace, and sometimes affect his emotional, spiritual, and physical health. His wife and children may also bear burdens they never asked to carry.
“No,” I told my pastor friend. “I still believe your job is harder.”
The Burdens Behind the Pulpit
Pastoral ministry can be extraordinarily rewarding. Leading someone to Christ, baptizing believers, watching Christians mature, and witnessing God’s grace transform lives brings tremendous joy. Few privileges compare with standing beside families in their happiest moments or bringing Scripture’s comfort in their darkest hours.
Nevertheless, those privileges entail demanding responsibilities. The pastor must encourage the discouraged, comfort the grieving, counsel the troubled, and offer hope to the hopeless. Yet he may be struggling with financial pressures, family concerns, health problems, or his own discouragement. He often holds confidential knowledge of private tragedies he cannot share. Though surrounded by people, he may still feel profoundly lonely.
An old humorous description of “The Perfect Pastor” captures the impossible expectations sometimes placed upon ministers. This remarkable fellow is said to be in his late 20s with forty years of experience. He preaches for ten minutes, condemns sin without offending anyone, visits fifteen families daily, and is always available at the church office. He devotes all his time to young people while spending most of it with senior citizens. He attends every committee meeting and still finds time for evangelism. Where is this extraordinary preacher serving? Apparently, he is always the pastor of the church down the road!
We laugh at the exaggeration, knowing that much truth is spoken in jest. Congregations sometimes expect one man to possess every gift, satisfy every preference, meet every need, and somehow never grow weary.
Certainly, pastors make mistakes and must remain accountable. But there is an enormous difference between constructive correction and destructive criticism. Paul understood the weight of spiritual leadership, as he described what came upon him daily: “the care of all the churches” (2 Corinthians 11:28).
A faithful shepherd cannot simply lay down the burden of caring for souls at the end of the day. Yet who encourages the encourager?
The Day My Deacons Helped Save My Ministry
Early in my pastoral ministry, while still in my twenties, I experienced a serious bout of depression. It was the 1980s, and Christian counseling resources were scarce in the part of Eastern North Carolina where I lived. Eventually, I found a Christian counseling ministry in East Tennessee, where I traveled and stayed for a time to receive invaluable help. During this difficult period, I was away from the pulpit for quite a while, and my condition prompted our church deacons to become deeply concerned for my well-being.
One day, the chairman of our deacon board called me and said the deacons wanted to meet with me at the church parsonage. I was deeply apprehensive. In my weakened emotional state, I feared they were coming to ask for my resignation.
I can still picture those men sitting in a semicircle around me in our living room while I sat on the couch. But instead of expressing disappointment or questioning my fitness for ministry, they spoke with extraordinary kindness.
They assured me of their love and confidence, encouraged me to continue counseling, and urged me not to rush back into the pulpit.
Then the chairman said something I have never forgotten: “We want you to get well and come back again as our pastor.”
Even now, more than forty years later, those words still bring tears to my eyes.
Those deacons could have responded differently. Instead, they recognized a wounded soldier of Christ in need of time to recover before returning to the field. They did not add to my burden. They helped lift it.
I doubt those men ever fully realized what their kindness accomplished that day. They helped restore hope and confidence when both were fragile. I sincerely believe they helped save my ministry.
Had they asked me to leave, I think the crushing sense of defeat and shame might have overwhelmed me to the point that I would never have returned to pastoral service. Instead, their compassion strengthened me to persevere.
Those men could not have known what the years ahead would hold. They simply loved their pastor when he desperately needed them. Yet their kindness made possible decades of ministry they could not have imagined.
I can never adequately express my thanks to God or to them for what they did for me.
When Moses Needed Someone to Hold Up His Hands
Whenever I read Exodus 17, I think of those deacons.
As Israel battled Amalek, Moses stood on a hill holding the staff of God. When his hands were raised, Israel prevailed. But Moses grew weary, and his hands began to fall.
Aaron and Hur came alongside him. They placed a stone under him so he could sit, and each held up one of his hands until sunset. Israel ultimately prevailed.
Moses was God’s appointed leader. He had confronted Pharaoh, witnessed extraordinary miracles, and led Israel through the Red Sea. Yet even Moses grew weary.
Aaron and Hur did not criticize him for his weakness or question his fitness for leadership. They recognized his need and supported him.
That is precisely what those deacons did for me. When I could no longer hold up my own hands, they helped hold them up.
There is a lesson here for every congregation. Pastors need people who will pray for them, encourage them, respect their families, and help carry the burdens of ministry. They also need people who will refuse to engage in malicious gossip, extend grace when they stumble or struggle, and stand beside them as they faithfully proclaim difficult biblical truths.
Above all, they need church members who understand that a pastor is not a spiritual machine, incapable of exhaustion, disappointment, or emotional pain. He needs the same love, understanding, and encouragement he is called to offer others.
This Pastor Appreciation Month, thank your pastor. Express gratitude for his sermons, prayers, visits, and faithful service. Write him a note, give him a gift, or tell him how much his ministry has meant to you.
But don’t stop there.
Remember Aaron and Hur. When Moses grew weary, they did more than praise his leadership. They stood beside him and held up his hands. Your pastor may need this far more than you realize.
The greatest appreciation we can show our pastors is not merely to applaud their service, but to help them remain faithful to it.
