What I Don't Miss About Pastoring: Insecurity

You wouldn't think pastors are insecure. You'd be wrong.

They all seem so confident standing up there preaching. Proclaiming the Word of God.

Heck, even around other pastors, they're a little arrogant.

I remember once I went to a pastor's conference. We had a breakout session on handling conflict in the ministry. The reason we were all in there was because we were insecure and had "trouble people" in our congregations.

However, the room was filled with Southern Baptist pastors at a pastor's conference. Which, if you've never experienced this, don't want to. Imagine a lot of strong personalities competing to share their advice with the moderator - however, they're in the room because they're insecure with handling conflict.

The moderator began the discussion with, "What is the most difficult occupation in the world?"

I winced.  You don't ask a group of pastors that question. Especially a group of pastors gathered to hear a breakout session on handling conflict.

The vocal vote was unanimous - "Pastoring!"

They hadn't realized that the moderator probably disagreed with them, even though he was a veteran pastor. He never said what he thought, but he was gauging his crowd. He wanted to listen to what they would say. And he did. He asked, "Why?"

"Because we do so much! We pray, we visit, and no one understands us! No one understands what we do except other pastors! And people will split the church over the smallest and most insignificant things! And we're underpaid and under appreciated!"

That went on for about five minutes. It's not that I disagree with any of those things, but it was getting ridiculous. Like a Jerry Springer Show.

I raised my hand. He actually called on me.

"I agree it's difficult," I said. "But the initial question was 'toughest job in the world.' While I agree our jobs are hard for us and that we have a higher calling, I don't know if it's the toughest. I think studies show that job would be air traffic controller.

People were frowning. But I continued.

"If the moderator was speaking to a group of doctors and asked the same question, what would they say? They wouldn't say 'pastors.' They'd say 'doctors.' If he was speaking to auto mechanics, steel workers, stay at home moms, construction workers, accountants, CEOs of Fortune 100 companies, they would all think their job was toughest."

A bellicose pastor looked at me and said, "Young man, how long have you been pastoring?"

I said, "Five years."

He said, "Then you just don't know."

I got shut down.

But I did know. I had already been through my fair share of petty arguments, anonymous letters from angry members, dumb statements about my sermons, and people just not "getting it" that I was in the same boat all those other pastors were in.

I was insecure.

Strange thing, most pastors don't know how insecure they are. They'd like to think that they're strong, but they don't know how weak they are.

We feel almost invincible behind the pulpit, but when we step down, we're weak. We're hurt when church members criticize us. We wonder what people are saying about us.

You'll say, "You shouldn't worry about what people say." I wish it were that easy. And I'm sure some pastors don't have that problem. But most do. And it's very difficult.

I'm not even talking about being a "people pleaser" (hate that term). I'm not talking about running a ministry so that people won't complain. If you're doing things right and by the Word, people will complain.

No, I'm just talking about having a tender heart as a pastor. One where there's always two or three people who don't like anything you do. They're going to hate everything you do and criticize you even if you were one of the Twelve.

People always said, "You can't let them get to you." For long periods of time, it wouldn't. But after a while, it finally would.

Your pastor is most likely strong most of the time, but even he has moments of insecurity. Build him up. Support him. Don't let him falter. Don't be someone who finds something to complain about all the time.

When you hear people complaining, ask, "Is it really something worth complaining about?" and "Do we need to bother the pastor about it?" and "Can we stop complaining and just fix the darn thing?"

Above all, pray for your pastor's heart. If you or someone in your church has a history of abrasiveness with him, fix it. Don't let it linger. Be of one mind.

Make it so when he goes to a pastor's conference and someone asks, "What's the hardest job in the world?" he replies, "It's not mine."

Common Traits Of The Fallen Pastor, Part 1: Poor Father Relationship

Before I get to my epilogue (of sorts), I want to do this short series on common traits of the fallen pastor.

Since I started blogging, I've talked to and emailed a decent number of pastors who, like me, fell because of moral issues. I've read other online articles about how to avoid moral sin in the pastorate and warning signs, etc. However, most of these articles were written by men who hadn't fallen or didn't know a fallen pastor. That's not to say there wasn't any truth to those articles, but I hope I can offer a little more insight.

Just a preamble to this series - I'm listing things that seem to be common traits. Of course, that doesn't mean they exist in all fallen pastors. But they did seem to be a common thread in discussions. This isn't a scientific study, by any stretch of the imagination.

Also, none of these traits are an excuse for sin. If I've mentioned that once on this blog, I've said it a thousand times. There is no license for sin. Are there factors that lead us there? Yes. And it can be helpful to notice certain things that could lead to a fall.

I'd like to discuss the common trait of a poor relationship with the fallen pastor's father. Fathers have a huge influence on pastors.

I remember the first day of seminary orientation, they asked us a few questions about our background. One of the questions they asked was, "How many of you have fathers who were pastors?" Most of the hands in the room went up. The questioner said, "75% of pastors have a father who was also a pastor. I didn't raise my hand that day.

I had always had a rocky relationship with my dad. I think it's because we were too much alike. He had a great relationship with my sister. They stayed up late at night going over the Bible and studying together. He and I rarely had much to say to each other.

He took us to church, was a deacon once, and kept to himself a lot. He worked hard, traveled a lot, and gave us a nice place to live. But we never really bonded during my life.

I smarted off a lot to him. I wasn't a bad kid, just had a smart mouth. When I was 15, I suppose I had smarted off to him for the last time. He looked at my mother and said, "I'm done with him, you raise him. He's yours." He was serious. He shut me out after that.

My sister achieved academically better than I did and I always felt (whether it was right or not, I'll never know, but it's how I felt) that Dad always preferred my sister over me. I suppose if I had to deal with me and my smart mouth, I would have preferred my sister too.

After I went away to college, my relationship with my father got a little better. We would talk on the phone and I'd ask for life advice. When I made the decision to go to seminary, he got critical of me again. I'll never understand that. It may not have been about seminary. Maybe he was dealing with his own life issues. He had dealt with a lifetime of anxiety himself.

I remember once, he came to visit Angelica and me at seminary. I jogged out to meet him and Mom at their car and the first thing he said to me was, "You're getting a little fat, aren't you?" This was coming from a man who was 150 pounds overweight himself. I rue that I rarely got praise from him. I never heard him tell me he was proud of me.

I had a counselor tell me once that he was subconsciously competing with me. Or whatever. I can see part of that being true. Whatever the problem was, it only got worse.

Even when I got ordained, or when he came to hear me preach, he'd unload on me. Not many kind words, but a lot of underhanded criticism.

He had a fall of his own. He and my mother divorced and I was angry. He basically kicked her out of the house. I judged him. Harshly. Something, I've learned, is wrong. I shut him out of my life completely for a period of about two years.

At the end of that two years, I started becoming convicted about it. I started talking to him a little, started trying to forge some sort of relationship. But it was too late. He died in an accident. I stood there, over his hospital bed while he was on life support realizing that I had done something horrible, but I didn't quite know what it was right then.

Later, I realized what it was. I had failed to love him for who he was instead of looking past what he had done.

Other fallen pastors seem to have a similar problem with their fathers. I don't know how much it adds to our sin later in life, but it has a significant impact upon who we are as adults.

There's a lot to be learned here, I think. First, if you're a father, make it work with your children. Lay aside any petty disagreements and humble yourself before them. Show them your vulnerability and just love them. Let them know you're proud of them regardless of what they've done. Just love them for who they are. Heck yes, parenting is hard. But it's worth it.

Secondly, if you have a parent who has caused you pain and still alive, don't let time expire before you do whatever you can to fix it. There are many of you who have parents who have done horrible things to you. I'm sorry. It may never be the same again with them. We can, however, still have a relationship with them where we draw boundaries and still have a salvageable relationship with them. We've only got this life. Tell them how you feel. Write them a letter and share your pain constructively. It's hard, I know. But don't let the later pain of regret and the "what ifs" get hold of you.

Thirdly, learn to love people as Christ did. He looked past what people did and loved them for who they were. Never shut the door completely on someone. Sometimes, you might be the only person in this world that someone will listen to. If you shut that door on them, it's dangerous.

Relationships with parents can be a great joy or a great pain. Those relationships form the people we are today whether we freely admit it or not. We cannot escape our generational past. But we can learn from it.

Reflection: When The Good Is Forgotten

I want to take a quick break and write about something that has been on my mind since the day of my fall. It's not an easy thing to write about.

It's a consequence of my sin and a painful one that only pastors know. I've talked to other fallen pastors about it and they understand it.

I spent almost a decade at Angel Falls Baptist Church shepherding the people there. I was called there, I believe, by God. I was called to ministry - which was a powerful experience for me. I have no doubt whatsoever that I was where I was supposed to be.

I spent years there doing what a pastor should do - loving, praying, preaching and shepherding. But with one horrible sin, all of it was quickly forgotten. A consequence of my sin.

I know that not all of the church members probably feel that way. I get that. But sin is a terrible thing. It quickly wipes away so much of the good that has been built up.

Pastors do a lot that people see. The most obvious are the sermons we preach every Sunday.

I remember a friend saying once, "You sure get paid a lot for only working one hour a week." Funny.

I had a seminary professor tell our preaching class once that for every minute we were in the pulpit, we should spend an hour in preparation. Well . . . I didn't go that far. But I worked hard on my sermons. I put time, thought, and prayer into each one. They weren't perfect, by any means, but most of them were out of love for God's people.

I'd have the occasional sermon that was out of anger for the way I thought the people were acting. Pastors, you'll know what I'm talking about. Those sermons almost always backfire. For the most part, I did good expositional sermons. The word "good" is used loosely.

Of course, my heart was hurt once when the music director accused me of stealing my sermons off the internet. That hurt. A lot. But I ignored it and moved on.

But pastors have a way of taking that stuff very personally. Because everything we do for the church is personal. We spend all week thinking about and praying for the church. We obsess about the church on a personal level. And we take the simplest comment and obsess about it for a long time.

At my small, rural church, I was in charge of just about everything. I ran VBS, the outreach program, half of the committees, and so forth. That was the stuff that was expected of me. I didn't mind too much. I wished that the people had gotten more involved. But I guess it was part of leadership. I pushed myself way too hard at times. Part of it was that I have always been an overachiever. I'll push myself until I'm exhausted.

I'll never forget any of the kids I got to baptize. I'm so glad I got to baptize both of my kids while I was there. Two memories that will be etched in my memory for the rest of my life. I'll always remember the others who came that wanted to talk about salvation, those who I witnessed to, those whom I baptized.

The kids who were ready for salvation - those were the ones I'll always remember. I always cried. I was always so careful with them. I never wanted a "false conversion". I wanted it to be apparent that it was the work of God and no one else for them.

Then there were the moments that no one else ever saw or ever heard of. The moments where I found myself asking, "Do pastors of megachurches have to go through this?"

Once, on New Year's Eve, I was sitting in the living room. Angelica was in bed watching the New Year's Eve countdown or something and someone pounded on the door. It was five minutes until midnight for crying out loud. I went to the door and it was a woman who had been to the church twice. She only came during VBS commencement. She was standing there shivering with her little five year old.

I brought them inside. Angelica wouldn't come near the door, she stood in the living room and listened. The woman told me that she had a fight with her boyfriend and he was drunk and had gotten abusive. They ran from him and had to wade through a pond in the dark. They were soaked and freezing. I got them a blanket. They wanted a ride to a nearby town.

I told Angelica to call the police while I gave them a ride. I turned the heat up in the van all the way and talked to her and prayed with her the entire way as I dropped her off at her mom's house. Her little girl wept for the first five minutes but I was able to calm her down.

Another time, about three weeks before Angelica found out about my sin, I got a call from the wife of a church member. He was distraught. He had wandered off into the woods and was going to hang himself.

I said, "What? Have you called the police?"

She said rather calmly, "I guess."

I said, "You guess? Get on the phone right now and call them if you haven't!"

I hung up and drove over to get Phillip Townsend. Fast. We went over to see if we could find the man. He and his wife had two years of serious marital issues. She was very unforgiving of his past. He had done some minor things about twenty years ago, but she wouldn't let it go. She hounded and hounded him about his sin that he had committed two decades ago and he had snapped.

Phillip and I talked to his wife before going into the woods. The police hadn't arrived. She said he might have a gun and that he was very upset. Great. We dashed off into the woods to find him. We finally did and he was very upset. Long story short, we talked him out of killing himself.

God gets all the credit for both of those stories.

The world is full of hurting, broken people whose lives are a breath away from disaster.

But now, I'm not in a position to minister to those people anymore. My sin disqualified me from taking care of that flock. And within me, as a former pastor, it hurts. It hurts that maybe, just maybe, there are those who will only remember that one sin instead of any glory that belongs only to God.

Don't read this thinking I'm trying to get anyone to feel sorry for me. I'm not. Read this as a warning - all sin has dire consequence. It never leaves us unmarked. It leaves heavy scars upon the soul.

Christ heals those scars - all of them. But as humans, we remember them all.

If you're engaged in any sin - gossip, pornography, self-righteousness, lying, deceitfulness, theft, anger, unforgiveness - they will all have their price upon your soul. No sin is free.