Rest and Rejoice

I was hit by a ton of bricks just a few days ago. I am speaking metaphorically, of course, since I am still able to write this. The blow came during a phone call with my mother. As she talked about watching old family videos, she simply observed, "You don't smile much anymore." At that moment, I was reminded of the burdens I had been carrying for months.

Pastoring comes with immense blessings, but also with heavy burdens. By and large, what most congregants see is their pastor's delivery of one message a week—maybe two, if they attend more regularly. What often remains unseen are the preparations for four weekly messages, church building repairs, visitations, counseling sessions, event planning, meetings, maintaining the church's online presence, and, not to mention, the daily cares of family life.

I realize that writing this may sound like I am complaining, and perhaps a bit tone-deaf, especially since we had a wonderful pastor appreciation service just last week! Please know that is not my intention. I love ministering and am grateful God led me to Timbers Drive Church. However, like everyone else, preachers struggle with their flesh and battle their own insecurities. They often feel like they live in a glass house, all while scrutinizing their own walk with the Lord, particularly when tangible results in church growth are few and far between.

The day after my mother’s comment, I found a poem I had written back in 2011. Reading it and reflecting on our conversation, I was reminded that I had been carrying burdens I was never meant to carry. I was sinking in a sea that had been parted long ago. We all need such a reminder from time to time, so I want to share this short poem with you.