Every month, my three best friends and I (who also happen to be pastors) get together to eat good food, laugh, and sit in a hot tub (no matter the temperature outside!) to talk about life. This week—days before Thanksgiving—we talked about why we are thankful to be pastors. It was so good for me to slow down and think about it because, if I’m honest, I rarely do. Most days feel like a blur. I move from meeting to meeting, task to task, and then go home with another list of things to do. Finding the time to “slow down” is hard—much less actually slowing down. Which is why I’m thankful for good friends who ask good questions. Questions like: Why are you thankful to be a pastor?
I’m very thankful to be a pastor. And the more I think about it, the more I have to say. But to be succinct, here are a few reasons I’m thankful to be a pastor in this season of my life…
1. God uses my pastoral vocation to change me.
When I started out in pastoral ministry, I assumed God wanted to use me to change the lives of people in my church. After all, I’m getting paid to teach people about God and how He wants to form their lives, right?!?!
Wrong.
Well, not all the way wrong—just not all the way right. Yes, God uses pastors to change people’s lives. That’s true. But that’s only 50% of the deal.
In reality, God sends pastors to particular churches because the work God wants to do IN the pastor can only happen THROUGH that particular church. It’s why a friend of mine—a former pastor for 40+ years—told me that when he started his pastorate, a mentor told him that God sent him to that church not because of what God wanted to do through him, but because of what God wanted to do in him.
When the Apostle Paul wrote to the Thessalonians (a group of people he ministered to and loved), he tells them that he cared for them “like a nursing mother caring for her children…” Why? “Because you (Thessalonians) had become so dear to us.” Paul was a gentle man, but in part because that gentleness was forged in his ministry at Thessalonica. He became gentle because of how God had used that group of people to shape Paul’s heart. God used the people to change Paul, and in return, God used Paul to change the people.
I find the same to be true of my church. All the disagreements, hard conversations, meetings, handshakes, sermons, and conflicts shape me as a person. Every day I am given an opportunity to grow in faith and maturity—and in some sense, I get paid to do it. What a gift.
2. I am given a sideline pass to people’s lives.
Because I carry the title “Pastor,” many people give me a sideline pass to their lives. They share about the recent diagnosis they received. They tell me about the troubles they’re having with their spouse or kids or place of employment. They let me in on their struggles, their joys, and everything in between.
And if they trust me enough, they sometimes let me on the field.
They invite me to be with them in their last moments with a loved one. They meet with me and air out their grievances against God and others. They share painful parts of their story and allow me to hold their burden with them. It’s a remarkable privilege—and one that I don’t take lightly. Trust is hard to come by these days. There are so many stories in the news of people in power taking advantage of others, betraying trust, and living double lives. So when someone “lets me in” on what is actually happening in their lives, it’s an honor.
And if you’re reading this and you are someone who has given me a pass to know you in this way, thank you. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for allowing me into your life and story. I may not know what to say or do—I rarely do—but I do pray. And it’s an honor to pray for you.
3. I get to point people to God on a regular basis.
Toward the beginning of the year I reminded the staff at my church that ministry is simple: we point people to God. We do this in many ways. We pray. We teach. We show them Jesus through our words, actions, and faces. We listen. But ministry is nothing more, nothing less than pointing people to God.
I can’t think of anything more needed in our world today.
We live in an age that is always pointing us to something.
Ads. Reels. Commercials. Billboards. Notifications. We are constantly being pointed in each and every direction. And along the way, if you’re anything like me, God gets lost in the fray. We forget that we are Christians—that God loves us and sees us, that He is enough for every longing and desire, and that He wants to be near us. But it’s hard to remember that when endless reels are at my fingertips. But it’s true. And my main job is to remind people of that by pointing to God in subtle ways. What a privilege.
4. I have the privilege of preaching and teaching about the greatest Story ever.
Most Sundays I get the opportunity to talk about the greatest Story in the world and how people can live in light of it for another week. The Bible is an incredible story. The more I read it and learn about it, the more I’m convinced that it is the Story of all stories. What other story starts with a perfect beginning (Garden of Eden) and ends with a better ending (Heaven)? And here’s the best part of all: it’s TRUE.
And every week I get to teach people what I get to learn myself. I find this to be so rewarding and humbling—that people give their hard-earned money to the church, and a portion of their money goes to paying me to get to serve them by teaching the Bible.
What an amazing opportunity, and I couldn’t be more thankful for it.
I’ve had pastor friends throughout the years make comments like, “Pastoring is so hard” or “Ministry is the most challenging job in the world.” I get what they are saying. It can be hard. It has its challenges. But I’ve never resonated with those statements.
In a broken world, every vocation is hard. If Genesis 3 teaches us anything, it’s that nothing is easy in this life. Everything is tainted with toil, trial, and difficulty.
I’ve always found pastoring to be rewarding and exhausting. Rewarding because I get to do all the things I’ve mentioned already, and then some. Exhausting because faithful pastoring requires all of you—emotionally, physically, and spiritually. It’s hard work. But, man, it’s a privilege.
To those who are reading this and belong to the congregation of Wabash Friends Church, let me say this: thank you. Thank you for allowing me to be your pastor. Thank you for welcoming me into your family and allowing me to be part of your story. Eugene Peterson—one of my pastoral role models—used to say that he would stand on the platform each and every Sunday, look out over his congregation, and say to himself, “I love these people.” I do the same thing every week as I give the Benediction. And I’m thankful to receive that love in return.
Happy Thanksgiving!
* In a world of AI saturation, I want to let you know that I did not use AI to write this post. I’m not against AI—I think it’s a wonderful tool. But the reason I started this blog years ago and still use it today is to 1) grow as a writer, and 2) put into words things I’ve been thinking about. As a result, I steer away from using AI in this space because it doesn’t help me develop as a writer, and tends to sanitize my words. Would this post be better if I had used ChatGPT? 100%. But I’m not after performance. I want to share heartfelt musings that, I hope, get you to think a little and all the while help me grow as a writer. Thanks for reading!