What Laypeople Don't Know About Pastoring - A Clergy Appreciation Month Reflection from Brad Lyons

As a kid, I had a misperception of everything it takes to be a minister. I grew up in a church so brand new that I was at its very first meeting. The first gathering was held at the pastor’s house, and the first Sunday school was playing with the youngest kid’s toys while the adults worshiped in the living room.

From that first Sunday, I saw a bit more of my pastor’s personal life than many kids my age would at other churches. Rev. Ed Hart was a second-career pastor; he and his wife, Barbara, were parents of four girls, the youngest a year or two ahead of me in school. They were constant members of my parents’ social group my entire childhood.

Ed always related well to the kids and teens. I always felt comfortable calling him Ed. He was a superb joker; we all knew that if he dished it out, he would also take it, and it was all in good fun. He and my mom waged epic one-liner battles. I once asked my mom if Ed wore anything under his pastoral robes during worship. When I broke my arm on a youth group ski trip, I watched Ed squirm, a mix of playfulness and anxiety, when he had to call my parents to break the bad news.

Before my senior year in high school, Ed moved to a different church. Not long after, he suffered a widow-maker heart attack and was gone before we had a chance to express our appreciation for his life and his work.

My perception was that Ed lived a life rooted in joy-filled community. What I didn’t see was the deep contemplation and reflection that goes into answering a call to ministry. I didn’t see the seminary education that went into becoming a minister, learning the theology that went behind his sermons or that he might actually know Greek or Hebrew. I didn’t see the hospital visits, the phone calls, the board meetings, the denominational meetings, or the conversations connecting us to our community. I didn’t see the committee meetings — finance, building, capital campaign, personnel, worship, Christian education, so many committees! — or all the work that goes into building a vibrant, healthy, growing congregation, work unseen by so many who repeat the ignorant platitude that it must be nice to work just Sunday mornings.

Decades later, I am married to a minister, and I understand now what I couldn’t see as a child, or even as a professional serving inside denominational ministries among dozens of ministers across the life of the church. During the first years of our relationship, Courtney served a congregation, and I always enjoyed watching her minister (as a verb) to the people in her church on Sundays and to the community around her every day. Sometimes, though, I had a more intimate look into that ministry, and it still leaves me in awe. I see yet more mystery, far more sophisticated than a calendar would offer. I recognize something mysteriously sacred when she engages that ministerial mode to counsel somebody experiencing a rough patch, to offer a heartfelt blessing over food, to comfort friends grieving a loss. There’s a shift that offers a glimpse into how many become one in those sacred moments.

There’s more than meets the eye in every pastor. Those of us who get to see it up close, whether in an adult who has earned the trust of youth and families to nurture their fair or a partner living out a deep call to serve God and to serve others, have a glimpse of God at work.

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Brad Lyons has served 26 years in Disciples general ministries, including the last 15 leading Chalice Press. He and his wife, Courtney, live in St. Louis, MO. Brad is the author of three books on America’s national parks.