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Ministry sucks sometimes. Days can be filled with clerical tedium, with the immense needs of others, in meetings in which petty items are discussed ad nauseum, or in pastoral discussions about deep, fundamental questions of human existence. Many days pastors experience all of these. These are exhausting but they don’t suck.

“This is not the life I’d want!” It’s a declaration I hear often as a pastor. It’s something I’ve said about my own life too.

Last winter, I wrote a somewhat contrarian blog post on the prosperity gospel. I never did endorse it, but I was trying to talk about the fact that for those on the lower economic margins that happen to think about money, they are more willing to talk about finances and how this relates to their walk with God.

How important is a personal relationship with Jesus? Some of my evangelical friends define Christianity as a personal relationship with Jesus. Everything else is adiaphora, except maybe the worship leading praise band. Even some of my Episcopalian colleagues argue that a personal relationship with Jesus should be the aim of growth in Christian faith. My problem is that I don’t know what a personal relationship with Jesus is.

When I worked for a business consultancy, I loved the pace. We worked with companies trying to make large-scale changes as quickly and efficiently as possible. The rate of growth and learning in these companies was steep; people would say a month in this kind of hyperdrive was like six months in normal operations. As our team moved from company to company, we felt like we were gaining years of experience in months. A chaplain’s 24-hour on-call in the hospital can feel like that.

I never expected this. Those words swam in my head every single month that we were waiting for a baby. So I should not be surprised that infertility continues to shape my life in unexpected ways, such as in the overwhelming number of stories people shared in response to a recent post I wrote. I've been floored by how many people are yearning to hear that they are seen. So many couples are suffering the invisibility of infertility.

A while back, a blog post speaking into the pain of miscarriage was making its rounds on the Internet. Having never miscarried (that I know of), or grieved the death of any child, I asked my friend who lost her two-month-old son whether she felt highlighting the pain of miscarriage diminishes the story of her own tragedy. She replied, “It is not very helpful to compare pain.” But how often do we do just that? 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the efforts that the church I serve has engaged in order to support and encourage new members and friends. I’ve especially been thinking about the time I’ve spent with new and fledging members and visitors. I’ve visited with, met for coffee, opened my office to what feels like countless new people—some new to the area and others just new to church. A few haven’t even made it to worship.