Artists with office hours

Clergy stress is in the news again. Lately
there's been a lot of discussion about clergy health, well-being and
effectiveness. I found these issues personally pressing as the deadline for my
United Methodist conference's annual interviews approached. Pastors are asked
to reflect on the past year, set goals for the next and share their plans for
self-care and continuing education. All of this is growing more important and
more poignant for me since I've returned to work after the birth of my second
child. I find myself noticing how many nights a week I am out of the house, how
many days in a row I'm in the office, how many tasks fill my plate.

It's
not that I'm overworked or want to work less. It's not that I doubt my calling
or effectiveness or feel the judgment of my congregation or supervising pastors
weighing down on me. I don't expect each day to be rich and joyful, and I don't
feel my time is too valuable to do menial tasks, or that God would be better
served if I spent less time talking with people who stop by the office and more
time in prayer. If I fantasize about leaving my job, I give thanks that my
daydreams are usually occasioned by tasks that are quickly if begrudgingly
completed (composing teacher handbooks) or rarely required (justifying my
position to an anxious finance committee).

The
church needs clergy who are introspective and insightful about the nature of
their calling and principled and flexible in the practice of ministry. We need
clergy who are willing to give up a day off sometimes for the good of the
congregation and who know that it's
well-advised to play hooky sometimes. That's the balance I seek for me, for my
family, for my congregation, for God.

Many
of the recent articles about clergy burnout suggested that it's a symptom of
cognitive dissonance: pastors think their job ought to be a particular kind of
work and are frustrated when it ends up involving something else. I can see
that. I love professional ministry when it's centered on preaching, teaching
and pastoral care. When the bulk of my time is spent doing other things, I get
frustrated.

None
of the media coverage, however, offered a compelling description of the call to
ministry itself. The metaphor I prefer is that of the artist. Good artists have
both vision—a way of seeing what is and what might be—and the technical
skills to realize the vision. They might not pick up a brush or pen every
single day, but they never stop seeing. I am always a pastor, whether or not
I'm working: my ministry is who I am, my stance in the world, my relation to
God, my way of seeing other people.

On
days when I consider leaving the ministry, I am talked off the ledge by
realizing that leaving would require a whole new identity as a Christian—I
don't think I know how to be a Christian who isn't in leadership. But the days
that really drive me to the limit are those when I feel the disconnect between
the technical demands and the vision, when I am either all task with no end or
all goal and no motion.

Of
course, if clergy are artists, we are artists with offices—and office hours. We
are to exercise our skills and vision, but we are accountable to the
call of God that may challenge that vision—and to the needs and expectations of
parishioners. For artists and pastors alike, there are any number of criteria
for judging success. The challenge is knowing which criteria to use, how to
weight them and whose evaluations to take to heart.