I don’t particularly enjoy what I’m about to share, but I believe it’s an essential truth to confront.
One of my Heroes of Faith and in
Ministry is the Rev. John Wesley. He once said, “Holy solitaries' is a
phrase no more consistent with the Gospel than holy adulterers. The Gospel of
Christ knows no religion but social; no holiness but social holiness.”
Wesley emphasized that Christianity—and by implication, Ministry—is inherently
relational. Ministers are not meant to operate in isolation but within a
supportive Community.
Loss doesn’t only occur when
loved ones pass away; it happens as we navigate life itself. Having served as a Pastor for the past 24 years, I've come to realize that alongside the steadfast pillars of Faith and Family,
another constant companion in ministry life is the all too familiar feeling of
loss.
The Ministry of Word and
Sacraments demands sacrifices that few outside this calling truly understand.
Perhaps the most painful sacrifice is the continual loss of deep friendships.
Ministry is inherently relational—at least for me—which paradoxically makes
building genuine friendships more complicated rather than easier. The very
ability that enables you to form profound bonds with others and build community
is also the source of deep heartache when someone leaves your church—and,
inevitably, your life.
I’ve seen very good friendships
that began with great promise fall apart or break due to changing
circumstances, shifting church dynamics, or the unavoidable collision between
my pastoral role and personal connections... I think every honest Pastor might agree—at least to some extent—that this is one of the hidden costs of ministry.
Over time, a strange hesitancy develops—a reluctance to fully let your guard
down. This protective instinct doesn’t stem from distrust but from experience.
Believe it or not, Pastors
feel loss deeply, even if we hide it well—or sometimes not at all. I once
heard someone say that pastors are forced to be actors: they must act strong
when they feel weak and endure humiliation so that others may feel better about
themselves…I think that there’s truth in that statement. While the pastoral
role requires emotional resilience, it doesn’t make us immune to pain. Every
goodbye, every fractured relationship, every unmet expectation leaves its mark
on us.
Ministry is a calling filled
with joy and purpose but also with sacrifice and heartache. It’s a delicate
balance—pouring out love while guarding your heart, building relationships
while bracing for inevitable losses. Yet through all this, I’ve learned something
profound: the pain of loss doesn’t diminish the value of connection; it
highlights its importance. Even when friendships fade or circumstances
change, the moments shared remain meaningful and significant.
I close with a quote from
another one of my heroes of faith, Father Henri Nouwen: “To live a
spiritual life we must first find the courage to enter into the desert of our
loneliness and to change it by gentle and persistent efforts into a garden of
solitude.” Perhaps the solution to the challenge of loss in
relationships lies in our ability to transition from our deserts of loneliness
to gardens of solitude—a place where peace can flourish amid pain.
To my fellow Pastors and those
in Ministry: you’re not alone in feeling this way. And to those outside of
ministry who may not fully understand—thank you for your grace and patience as
we navigate this complex journey of Faith, Service, and Relationships.
