The 3 Primary Types of Ministry Failure
This is an except from Fail: Finding Hope and Grace in the Midst of Ministry Failure by J.R. Briggs
When pastors have the courage to tell me of their failures – epic or seemingly insignificant – I’m honored and dismayed. The stories of epic failure are all over the map regarding heartache, sin, pain, evil and relational messes. Some were out of their own sin, brokenness, poor decisions, lack of discretion or weakness. Others were victims of heinous acts, betrayal and news of which no one wants to be on the receiving end. Despite the myriad types, what I have found is they usually fall into one of three primary categories: a mighty fall, a slow leak or a burned-out statistic.
(1) A Mighty Fall. Pastors have wept in front of me as they shared traumatic stories of failure that, at times, made me wonder if I might throw up as I heard them speak. A sexual or emotional affair (either the guilty person or the victim), illegal activity, embezzlement of church funds, news of a spouse’s cancer that took their life within a matter of months, a shocking termination that came out of nowhere, a betrayal by close friends who turned on them. Suddenly, they found themselves drowning in shock, unable to come up for enough oxygen to keep their hearts breathing. Some were still flailing, expending all the energy they can muster to keep their head above water. The shock of it all will mark them for years to come.
(2) A Slow Leak: Instead of a sudden collapse or horrifying news, it was a constant wearing down until their soul had been rubbed down to the nub. The constant barrage of negativity from an elder board, depression, severe resentment of how one’s life and ministry had turned out and disillusionment. A pastor in his late fifties who served at a rural Indiana church comes to mind when I think about the slow leak. He told me, “I’ve served my church for the past 27 years and I’ve grown that church from 150 to 24 people. And the treasurer called me the other day and told me that we will run out of money in August. It looks like we’ll have to shut our doors for good. What do I have to show for my life for almost 3 decades of serving God?” His face was covered with anger, confusion and resentment; but mostly he just looked resigned to the fact. His soul, it seemed, had given up the fight. He was just existing.
[3] A burned-out statistic: The landscape of the pastor in North America is not pretty. Read the findings of this recent survey of pastors:
1,500 pastors leave the ministry each month for good due to burnout or contention in their churches.17
50% of pastors’ marriages will end in divorce.
80% of pastors (and 84% of their spouses) are discouraged in their role as pastors.
40% of pastors seriously considered leaving the pastorate in the past 3 months.18 For every 20 pastors who go into ministry only one retires from the ministry.19 Another study revealed more devastating statistics:
80% report ministry adversely affected their families.
50% say they are unable to meet the demands of their job.
90% say they were inadequately trained to cope with their job.
70% say they dnot have a single close friend.
70% say they have a lower self-esteem than when they entered the ministry.
The number one motivation to go into ministry is “fulfillment.” The number one motivation to stay in ministry is guilt.
Denominational health insurance agencies report that medical costs for clergy are higher than for any other professional group.20 The temptation to work ourselves to the bone is so pervasive, it can almost be seen as a badge of honor. After hearing the stories and reading the research over the past few years, what I find surprising is only 25% of pastors described “burnout.” Based on these findings, why would that number not be higher? Additionally, the Alban Institute published a report finding that of their sample group, 62% of pastors reported having little spiritual life.
A mighty fall, a slow leak and a burned-out statistic are grossly prevalent and equally devastating to the soul, though in various expressions and symptoms.
Paul Tripp, in his book Dangerous Calling, writes:
How many pastors are living in a constant state of spiritual unrest?
How many of us are haunted by personal insecurity?
How many of us secretly wonder where God is when what in the world he is doing?
How many of us are living self-protectively, saying “I was taken once; it won’t happen again”?
How many of us share with no one the struggles of faith that haunt us?
How many of us fail to be candid and decision because we are afraid of what will happen to us?
How many of us have found ways of escape, ways of coping that do not include preaching the gospel to ourselves?
How many of us carry our burdens home, rendering our parenting less than gracious and productive?
How many of us have become quite skilled at hiding so that not even the people closest to us have any sense of what is going on at the level of our hearts?
How many of us would have to confess there are moments when we are more ruled by fear of _______ than fear of God?
How many of us have moments when we care more about being accepted or having our leadership validated than we do about being biblical?
How many of us are weakened or paralyzed by fear of rejection?
How many of us are afraid to examine how much fear engages and motivates us?
How many of us?
I include these questions not to discourage you, make you feel badly or kick you while you are down; I include them to acknowledge the Church in North America has a pervasive systemic issue on our hands. If you felt something ring true in these questions above, let me remind you: you are not alone.
At the beginning of the Beatitudes Jesus makes a tragically hopeful declaration, “You’re blessed if you’re at the end of your rope; with less of you there’s more of God and his rule.” Fortunately, Jesus calls us to a life of grace – yes, even for us pastors and leaders! - despite our mighty falls, slow leaks and burned-out statistics. We’re not through. There is hope still. Jesus desires for you to grasp the depth of the good news: you don’t have to be Super Pastor. You can take off the cape. He’s still in control. This incredibly ironic, end-of-the-rope blessing is available, Jesus says, if we only have the courage, the patience and the faith to pursue it.
Marva Dawn and Eugene Peterson poignantly and potently address the culture in which we pastor and the prophetic posture needed to faithfully serve God in our calling:
“As pastors, we are unnecessary to what our congregations insist that we must do and be: as the experts who help them stay ahead of the competition. Congregations want pastors who will lead them in the world of religious competition and provide a safe alternative to the world’s ways... They want a pastor they can follow so they won’t have to both with following Jesus anymore... Don’t forget: everything we do depends upon God, so we are unnecessary. God nevertheless uses us, so let us each and together rediscover our call.24
It is good news – jolting news, but good news nonetheless: we truly are unncessary. Because of our unnecessariness, the pressure’s off.