I just got wind of another pastor committing suicide. I was slow to write on this because I don’t want to be in the habit of being a pundit. Instead, it is good to simply lament. Of course there were many specific circumstances that led to this particular pastor’s decision to shoot himself…but I am afraid the loneliness of leaders (and specifically pastors) is not isolated. In fact, I know it’s not.
I talk to pastors and leaders everyday. And the undercurrent is almost always the same. They are lonely and misunderstood and feel taken for granted.
You see, at the same time I heard the news of this suicide, another friend of mine shared news that the elders of his church were slandering him and trying to remove him for spiritual abuse. Now, no one is perfect…And spiritual abuse is a thing…but I know that this friend is anything but a spiritual abuser. A leader? Yes. A sacrificial leader? Yes. He has given up much for the sake of the people in his church, and a handful of leaders didn’t like a certain direction he was trying to get them to move toward (that was not sinful), and they categorized it as spiritual abuse.
These two examples of the very vivid and lucid languishing in the souls of leaders paints a picture for the current climate in the American Church.
Whether we want to admit it or not, the American Church suffers from what one author called “affluenza.” That is, we suffer from a disease of affluence. Instead of a place for spiritual formation, the church has become a purveyor of happy parents and entertained children. Of having the altruistic guilt assuaged for the holiday season…all the while the church is bereft of genuine discipleship.
I’ve seen it in my short tenure as a pastor. A couple sat across me my wife and me at our dinner table and said they didn’t think our church cared about kids. This is due to not having a lot of programs for children…even though these same folks went through our membership class where I said the onus of discipleship falls on the parents and the church supports that through simple means of teaching the kids on Sundays.
I remember being ghosted after trying to help marriage after marriage repair. And that hurt. To pray and pour out and to be met with not even a “good-bye.”
These are symptoms of the greater problem in the church right now of people seeking to blame anybody but themselves for the havoc that has been wrought in the church. It’s easier to blame a leader than it is to look in the mirror. It is easier to say someone else is the problem rather than seeing the common denominator of poor relationships being me.
So what’s the solution?
I think it is as simple as seeing your pastors as humans. People in need of genuine care and concern. So few people give their leaders affirmation that they appreciate what they’re doing. For the myriad of emails and phone calls I get from leaders, this rings true. Hours are poured into a message that is then delivered with earnestness and care of the people…and then people flock out the back door and never say if they were helped. OR if something seemed sideways to offer the human standing behind the pulpit the courtesy of asking for clarification or simply giving the benefit of the doubt.
I have been hurting all week for those who genuinely care about the people in their churches…they aren’t flashy and they aren’t trying to build their fiefdom or following. They are praying and laying down their lives like Jesus.
If you are a pastor, my prayer for you is that you look to your Pastor and Mentor, the Suffering Servant, and grieve. But also rest on his building of his Church.
I went back and forth as to whether I should write something. This has bene mostly an exercise of me processing my grief for the deceased and the nearly deposed. I have been sad because there is no telling how many tears have been shed and how many hours of sleep lost and how many years shaved off by worry. I struggled to write this because, as a pastor, people could misconstrue my words to be complaining myself. I am not. I am immeasurably grateful for the people at my church who reach out to me and my wife. Who genuinely care for our souls. Who are sticking with us, thick and thin. Who give us the benefit of the doubt and don’t presume they know…when they haven’t asked.
Rather this has been an exercise of revealing the underbelly of pain in leading people through our own pain. To show up each Sunday when our faith has been fickle and faint. To come with a word of encouragement when you have not received one.
Dear brother, keep coming to the well of God’s mercy and let him tell you everything about yourself. You are beloved. You are kind. You are seen. You are known. You are not alone.