The Dirty Little Secret of Being a Pastor

For the first time since the year 2000, I have spent a full year not serving as a pastor of a local church.

I am still in full-time ministry. I still preach. I still lead. I still care deeply about the Church. But for the first time in more than two decades, I have had the opportunity to step back from the role of being a lead pastor and reflect on what those years taught me.

Over the past year, I have read article after article about pastors leaving ministry. I have watched churches struggle to find pastors. Across many denominations, there is a growing shortage of men and women willing to step into pastoral leadership.

As I think about my own journey, I need to say something first: I have been blessed.

Every church I have served has been filled with people I genuinely love. My family and I have been supported by incredible congregations, faithful friends, generous volunteers, gifted staff members, and people who walked alongside us through both victories and challenges. I am deeply grateful.

But after twenty-five years in pastoral ministry, I can also share a few dirty little secrets that many pastors rarely say out loud.

Pastors are often far more insecure than they appear.

We stand in front of people every week. We speak with confidence. We make decisions. We cast vision. We lead meetings. From the outside, it can look like we have it all together.

The truth is that many pastors wrestle with insecurity constantly.

A sermon that doesn't connect can stay in your head for days. One critical comment can overshadow ten encouraging ones. You replay conversations. You wonder if you handled a situation correctly. You ask yourself whether you're leading well enough.

Most pastors won't show it, but many carry a quiet burden of self-doubt.

Another secret is that few people understand the pain of betrayal in ministry.

When friends leave the church, it hurts.

I don't mean people who move away or feel called elsewhere. That is part of church life. I mean the people you prayed with, cried with, celebrated with, and trusted. The people who sat around your table. The people who knew your family.

When those relationships break, the pain runs deep.

Pastors understand that people come and go, but that doesn't make it easy. Behind every departure is often a grieving heart that keeps showing up the next Sunday and serving anyway.

And then there is the loneliness.

Churches are full of people, yet ministry can be surprisingly lonely.

Many pastors feel like they must always be the strong one. They carry burdens they cannot always share. They hear confidential stories. They navigate conflicts. They absorb criticism. They stand in difficult places between competing expectations.

The reality is that many pastors long for what everyone else longs for—a trusted friend.

Someone who doesn't need them to be the pastor all the time.

Someone who simply knows them, loves them, listens to them, and walks with them.

As I reflect on my years in pastoral ministry, my encouragement to every church member is simple: encourage your pastor.

Send the note.

Make the phone call.

Pray for them.

Tell them when a sermon helped you.

Remind them that their labor matters.

And if God gives you the opportunity, become a trusted friend.

Not another demand. Not another expectation. Just a friend.

The Church needs faithful pastors. But pastors also need faithful people walking beside them.

After more than two decades of ministry, that's one of the most important lessons I've learned.

Pastors are called by God, but they are still human.

And sometimes the greatest gift a church can give is simply encouragement, friendship, and grace.