Suicide, Isolation, and the Life of a Local Church Pastor

I posted this on my Facebook page today, so I thought I would cross post it here.

Warning long post ahead.

You know I don’t talk a ton about my job on here for various reasons that aren’t your business 😉, but this kind of stuff is happening far too often in our profession any more. This guy has made the headlines, but there are a lot more who don’t have a platform like he did who also take their lives. And many more who don’t commit suicide but leave ministry every day.

Pastor, author and mental health advocate Jarrid Wilson dies by suicide

I struggled with whether or not to post this, because I don’t want to upset anyone in my church by making them think they are not awesome. You are awesome. But no church is immune from the realities of that separation between Pastors and the congregation. It just happens. If you are one of my awesome PCC family members don’t take this personally. It’s just the reality of church life in this day and age.

This job is lonely. You are surrounded by people all the time, but yet alone. You live your life in a glass house. Your kids are held to a different standard than other kids and they didn’t ask for that. People talk about what you wear, you get letters, comments, criticisms, every word is scrutinized. I get it, it’s the gig.

It’s hard to maintain friendships. You can’t always be yourself, you get hurt often but can really say anything. People float in and out all the time and it’s hard not take it personal. You find yourself fighting the constant battle to base your self worth on how many people fill (or don’t fill) the seats on a Sunday. You find yourself struggling not to take it personally when people choose other things. You put hours and hours of work into people, groups, services, events, and try to make it valuable and when people don’t show up, or help, it just crushes you. You know it shouldn’t, but it does.

You work wonky hours, you live with this weird tension of having to hold people accountable who, let’s be honest, also pay your salary and aren’t getting paid a salary to volunteer. So can you ever truly be 100% honest with someone? If they get mad and leave you know it just doesn’t affect you, it affects the entire church. It adversely can affect the other staff, other ministries, etc.

And the people you take years developing relationships with that just up and leave? It’s like getting hit with a truck. For most of the other people in church it’s just a few empty seats. For us it’s like taking a piece of our hearts. The ones that leave over petty stuff, like chairs or music? Those don’t bother you so much. The ones that leave because of me? Those hurt.

It’s funny too because people just assume you agree with everything they do politically and spiritually even though most of the time you don’t. You have to walk this fine line to protect yourself and your family and them. You just nod through conversations that if you truly said what you thought you know it cause that person to no longer like you. We don’t have the luxury of compartmentalizing our lives like so many in our churches do. If I tell you how I really feel about something, or how your actions affected my family, I run the risk of losing that relationship forever. And most of the time it’s just not worth it.

And oh man, do I hate it when people out in the world find out I’m a Pastor. I always get one of three reactions; the first one, and one I get most often anymore, is contempt. People don’t respect the position anymore. And I get it. Between the Benny Hinns and the the guys who can’t keep their hands off of women and abuse their power, to the ones that can’t keep their hands off your wallet, to the ones who are so holier-than-thou and judgy we’ve done ourselves no favors. We’ve made Jesus a commodity and a product. So I get it, I really do. And honestly I don’t blame you. Sometimes I feel the same way. When Conor was in marching band and I was a volunteer there were three times over those years when another parent asked me what I did and when I said Pastor, literally said “Oh.” And never spoke to me again. So while that hurts, to be honest I get it. I’m not a big fan of most Pastors I meet either. 🤣

The second reaction people have is to immediately make you their Pastor and tell you all their problems. All of the problems. They aren’t going to come to your church or actually listen to your advice at all, but they feel better talking to me. We can handle that to a point. But at some point, like anyone else, if you really want do this I need you come be a part of our family. And I’m not a trained counselor. I’m just a dude who is pretty good at exegesis and teaching life application. The problem is they want to do it when you just want to watch a game or see your kid in something. It makes sense, it’s the only time you see me because like I said before, you ain’t coming to be in my church family. And why would you when I’m right there? And I listen. I do. And all of it breaks my heart.

The third reaction is really rare. They don’t care. They treat you the same. They don’t apologize for cussing around you (which always makes me laugh), they still treat you like anybody else. These are my people. Lol.

And then once again there are the wonderful people in your church. Because spirituality is such an intensely personal thing mistakes can be detrimental. One bad personal interaction can inadvertently push someone out the door. Many of them you only see on Sunday and Sundays, especially for me, are insanely busy. It’s hard to be able to stop and interact. One distraction that causes you to miss a handshake or a greeting can change that person’s view of you, or the church. You’ve got to have a soft heart and thick skin and finding that balance is hard. Really hard.

I love love my job, I really do. I was made for this, but it’s not easy. There are days I just want to be “normal.” And I’m lucky. Our church is not perfect, it’s made some mistakes. But by and large, compared to some of the things I hear in the trenches, I’m blessed to be in Piqua.

My point in all this is to say, if you are a part of a church make sure the staff knows you care about them. Take them to lunch sometime. Heck just ask them how they are doing and make them tell you the truth. And don’t judge them for being human. They pour everything they have into you and your church, give it back. There’s not a man or woman out there doing this who doesn’t feel the pressure or the isolation. And they spend an awful lot of time and energy making sure you are ok. Nothing, and I mean nothing, says thank you to us like your presence. Showing up and honoring the work, caring about us as actual people, not viewing us hired hands who can do something for you? That means the world.

And to you other guys and gals on here in ministry why aren’t we meeting and checking on each other regularly? How can there be 4,000 (preacher count) churches in this county and we can’t find time once a month to encourage each other?

I hesitate to say any of this, I do, but I’m tired of reading stories like Jarrid’s. I’m tired of reading stories from my fellow Pastors who are hired “to turn the church around” and then fired for having the audacity to try and “turn the church around.” Church is not a social club or something to go do. It’s not an item on a checklist. It’s not a place to go judge the world’s behaviors with discontent. Heck It’s not even for you. It’s for you to come together with a group of people who agree on this Jesus thing and be the hope of the world. We can’t do that if the men and women who have given their lives over to lead the family of God keep getting hurt by the very people who asked them lead because they are too afraid to be human. And Pastor’s we can’t keep this stuff bottled up.

If anybody out there in ministry needs to somebody to talk to I’m around. If it’s not me talk to somebody. Because I don’t want to read one more Pastor’s spouse post on Instagram how much they will miss their significant other.

I got your back.

Peace.

The Pain of Isolation

Yesterday afternoon I read the sad news that over the weekend a Pastor in California committed suicide. The Pastor, Andrew Stoecklein of Inland Hills Church in Chino, CA struggled with depression and anxiety. He leaves behind a wife and three sons. His wife said on social media:

“I don’t know how I am going to face this, I am completely heartbroken, lost, and empty. Never in a million years would I have imagined this would be the end of his story,”

You can read the full news story on his passing here: https://churchleaders.com/news/331944-pastor-suicide-depression-and-anxiety-claim-young-pastors-life.html

In light of hearing about this yesterday my blog post is just going to be completely honest (as per usual). I, personally, have never once contemplated suicide, but I can certainly see how someone gets there, particularly in this profession. I’ve been at this full time for 8 years now. Pastor’s often leave their families and support and systems to go into the unknown where they hope to find a new support system, but the honest truth is in most cases that just doesn’t happen. I want to say up front I love our church. And when I say church I mean the people. I honestly love them, with that, “I would jump in front of a freight train for them,” kind of love. But the truth of the matter is being a Pastor is incredibly isolating. You can never truly give all of yourself away because at the end of the day the people you are around the most are looking to you for guidance. They are looking for you for leadership. They are looking to you for something to imitate, and so we live in a glass house. Constantly.

There are times I’ve gone down that road and been vulnerable only to have it used as a weapon against me. That hurts. I’ve had, what I thought were friendships with people, only to discover that when I was hurting and needed something, there actually wasn’t a friendship there. I was the Pastor, after all, I was supposed to help them with their problems, not them help me (apparently) in any way, shape, or form. I’ve had people who I thought were my friends and could be honest with, abuse that. Spit on it (metaphorically speaking- no one has actually spit on me…yet). Over the years that has left me, at times, feeling paranoid and delusional. I’ve had “friends” leave the church and in some instances just stop talking to me altogether. Relationships that I thought were close and forged together by me going through battle with them, and then suddenly there comes a moment where they either didn’t like what I did or said, its over. The worst has been when the storm came on me I thought they would be there, and yet they were nowhere to be found. Heck after my wife and I experienced two stillbirths in less than a year we got a few meals afterward but a month or two later, as she fell into a deep depression, I just felt forgotten and incredibly lonely.

Each time something like that happens a callous develops that only God can remove. As a result, even though I am surrounded by people, most of the time I feel extremely alone.

Dr. Thom Rainer wrote a great blog post a while back about what Pastor’s struggle with that you can read by clicking here.

I’ve struggled with all those. But, in particular here recently with #5.

Loneliness. “It’s really hard to find a true friend when you are a pastor. And when you have no one to talk to about your struggles and questions, life can get lonely.”

I am incredibly fortunate to have some good friends. It is regrettable I never see them. All of them live away from where I live. All of them are very busy with their own kids, careers, and problems. And I’m not a “talk on the phone for an hour” kind of guy. I need that face-to-face time.

In the absence of my friends then, over the years I’ve tried to meet with, and create friendships with, the other Pastors in town or even the same kind of church in a nearby city and nothing seems to click. I know them, they know me, but there is no real friendship there. My co-worker and I seem always to be the one initiating everything, and over time it gets old. I guess they don’t struggle with the same things we struggle with? I’m not sure. Heck, maybe they just don’t like us. Who knows. Either way, at least for me, I just end up end up feeling more alone and quite frankly, rejected.

I have even more difficult time because I’m not the SENIOR PASTOR. As if the SENIOR PASTOR is some magical position. As if ministry is not ministry. And then I’m also not the Youth Pastor or Children’s pastor, which are the other common positions we have around here that I can’t “talk shop” with. We also aren’t a big church, so the bigger church’s have no interest in us. They can’t get anything out of us, nor do they believe they can learn anything from us. They are extremely wrong on the latter, by the way. And most people who do my job are in bigger churches, so it’s just weird all around for me.

To be a Pastor and be effective there has to be some transparency. People see through phony. When I do preach, I can’t get up there and spend 35 minutes merely teaching, if I can’t relate what I am talking about back to my own experiences, and how what’s happened to me fits into God’s story then I’m not doing what I’m called to do. Because I have calling to set an example, I will continue to be me, even though at times that is painful because of what people will do with that. I just have to keep trusting God with the consequences.

I know, however, this is extremely difficult for my wife who doesn’t easily open up. We are leaving our Family Group we’ve been in for 3 years to start a new one, and already we feel left behind and left out by the wonderful folks we are leaving. And like she says, “you leave pieces of yourself there.” So when we as people feel forgotten, those fragile parts you shared and opened up feel forgotten, and that does hurt.

I think for guys like Pastor Andrew, he probably left so many pieces of himself everywhere that there wasn’t any left to give out. And in a culture where we say stupid heretical phrases like “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” Eventually, the emptiness catches up to you, you begin to lose your identity, and that’s when you are at your most vulnerable.

I pray today for my brothers and sisters in the ministry. I pray for your families. I pray for real relationships for all of us. I pray that when we start feeling empty, we seek help. I pray the church will no longer shame those who struggle with depression but empower them, left them up, and truly be love to them. And if you ever need anyone to talk to, feel free to drop me a line. We are all in this together.

To my church family, who may or may not read this, I love you all. I think the world of you. Just remember I am a flawed, sinful, lonely human like the rest of you. Sometimes I don’t say the right thing, return the phone call quick enough, or whatever I do or say lets you down, but just know that I still love you. You may stop talking to me, or stop being in my group, or quit a ministry I lead or even leave the church, but I still love you, and I am thankful you were in my life. Know that I still love you and be aware that I was vulnerable and open and now you carry a piece of me with you. It took a lot of courage for me to give that out. You may not like me anymore, but at least honor that piece of me.

Every time I think about giving up recently I think now of the closing line of Bob Goff’s book Everybody Always. “Every time I wonder who I should love, and for how long I should love them, God continues to whisper to me; Everybody, always.”

And so by His grace I go. Godspeed Pastor Andrew. Prays to his family and his church family.