Never Off the Clock
(Noah was the first to plant a vineyard.)
It is the end of another long exhausting day. My family is away on a trip and the house is empty. As I reflect on the day, I have experienced a roller-coaster of emotions. When I entered my office this morning, there was an envelope lying on my desk. It was an angry note from a parishioner castigating me for my sermon this past Sunday.
“How dare you assume you have the right to tell me that this nation has the wrong military policy on Iraq,” it said. “What makes you think you are so smart? Why don’t you stick to the spiritual things you were hired to preach about?”
Criticism always sent me into a tailspin and I began to berate myself for the poor way in which I had expressed myself when the phone rang. “Pastor,” the voice said, “I am at my wits end in dealing with my son, Timmy.” I spent the next forty-five minutes counseling a parishioner in need. It felt good to be able to be there and help her process what she was feeling.
After I hung up, I spent the next hour trying to figure out how to interpret the budget to the finance committee. The normal spring and summer reduction in contributions had begun to occur and I didn’t want them to panic. Next I turned to formatting the bulletin for Sunday, which also meant that I had to come up with a title for the yet unwritten sermon.
I left the office in time to meet a couple for lunch who had expressed interest in joining the church. It was a pleasant lunch filled with affirmations for the ministry they saw taking place at the church. It was especially pleasing to hear the husband say that one of the reasons they were joining the church was that my sermons repeatedly challenged them to relate their faith to the difficult issues in the world around them.
I intended to work on the sermon for the next week when I returned to the office but my secretary had received word of two parishioners who had been admitted to two different hospitals in the city. I decided that took precedence and left for the hospitals. As I was returning to the church, a transient stopped me with a story about needing money for a bus ticket to get to his brother’s funeral. I had learned from experience that the only way to make sure that the money would be used for a bus ticket was to take him to the bus depot and buy the ticket for him. That took the rest of the afternoon.
After a quick supper, I attended the worship committee meeting. What I remember most about that meeting was that we seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time discussing whether we should sing more of the “good old hymns” that would please certain vocal members of the congregation.
HOME AT LAST
Now I am home. The day is over and I am alone with my thoughts. I remember that my brother had given me a bottle of Scotch for Christmas. I decide I need a good strong drink to relax, and I pour myself a double scotch. I miss my family and am feeling slightly sorry for myself. The scotch tastes good. I want to hold on to that feeling a little longer. It is, after all, the end of the day. A second drink seems in order, I tell myself,
Someone once said, “Two drinks are not enough and three drinks are too many.” I’m really feeling the buzz now. To be honest, I’m drunk. I don’t really care. I’ll just sleep it off. Maybe I’ll have a little hangover in the morning, but it really feels good not to pay attention to the boundaries of appropriate behaviors for once.
It’s almost midnight when the phone rings. Who could be calling at this hour, I think, as I stumble slightly getting to the phone. I compose myself and make sure that I don’t slur my words as I answer.
“This is Pastor Smith. Can I help you?”
“Pastor,” the voice was breaking up with intermittent sobs. “This is Dan Foyer. We’ve been in a terrible car accident. My wife is very serious. We are at the emergency room of Maywood Hospital. Can you please come? We need your prayers.”
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Gather a group of colleagues for refreshments and discussion.
Read the story and consider some of the following:
As the story begins, the pastor reflects on the demanding day that he has experienced. Note how those events quickly move up and down like a rollercoaster. Bulletins must be prepared, budget anxieties dealt with, meetings aren’t always satisfying, people do criticize, and at other times you are able to offer nurture in hospitals and support to those in need of counseling. Allow the group to discuss how realistic that picture is of the rhythm of ministry.
In addition to alcohol, what are some other unhealthy ways that occasionally clergy succumb to at points of either physical or emotional exhaustion?
What are healthy ways that people have discovered to cope with the emotional drain of ministry?
How would you counsel a new minister on how to cope with the reality of being subject to calls any time day or night?
If you could make one change in the way you respond to how the demands of ministry can sometimes drain you emotionally and spiritually, what would it be?
