When Saints Depart: The Joy, Burden, and Grief of Pastoral Life+Kuyper and Women+Why Paedocommunion Matters
We, therefore, pray that our reunion one day will supply some of the joy that departed when they first left.
The Weight and Wonder of Pastoral Calling
A little pastoral reflection may suit a few of you today. The more time I spend with fellow ministers, the more self-aware I become of the uniqueness of our calling. This uniqueness comes at different levels, and it moves men in profound ways depending largely on their personalities and predispositions. There is a kind of invisible labor in the pastoral office, one that does not always show itself in sermons or public duties, but in the quiet accumulation of relationships, prayers, and shared lives. Over time, a pastor does not merely preach to a people; he becomes bound to them.
That bond is not mechanical. It is deeply human and profoundly spiritual. It is formed in hospital rooms and fellowship halls, in late-night conversations and ordinary Lord’s Days, in the steady rhythm of Word and Sacrament. And because of this, the pastoral calling is not simply a vocation one performs, but a life one enters. It shapes the affections, deepens the burdens, and ties the minister’s heart to the people under his care in ways that are difficult to fully articulate.
The Joy and Burden of a Shared Life
One of those emotional bursts in the life of the minister happens when a saint leaves the local church. Church departures can be among the most emotional experiences for pastors and members alike. Since we live in a military community, we have seen our share of individuals and families leave our church who have consistently enriched our lives for a beautiful season. These saints add different gifts to the church and undoubtedly immense joy to the flock. Their presence becomes part of the church’s liturgy of life, their voices part of its song.
I am reminded by what the Apostle says in Hebrews 13:17. Members are to submit to their leaders so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no benefit to you. Membership carries a weighty responsibility: to make the pastor’s job joyful rather than burdensome. This is not a call to flattery or superficial harmony (we don’t need that), but to a shared commitment to the health of the body, where encouragement, patience, and mutual care sustain the work of ministry.
When I wrote my doctoral dissertation some years ago, I wrote about the nature of longevity in the pastoral office. I observed that most pastors leave the ministry quite early due to a lack of encouragement from the flock, which leads to burdens, which burdens lead to misery, which misery leads to early departures from the ministry. In fact, the low rate of pastoral stay in churches, less than five years, is largely due to the Hebrews 13:17 factor. A congregation that understands its role in cultivating joy in its shepherd is not merely helping a man endure; it is strengthening the long-term stability and faithfulness of the church itself.
This, of course, is not to say that pastors live an error-free life. There are times when pastors fail to make their parishioners’ lives joyful and to fulfill their ministerial duties effectively. These all play a significant role in this conversation as well. Shepherds are not immune to weakness, and the same Scriptures that call members to faithful submission also call pastors to faithful oversight, humility, and repentance. The health of the church depends on both.
The Grief of Departure and the Hope of Reunion
Nevertheless, when families leave, it creates an immense void in the pastor's life. After all, we invest in their lives in Word and Sacrament, we host them in our homes, officiate weddings for their children, bring their children to the font, minister in times of crisis, eat, laugh, sing, worship together week after week in the calendar of the church, and much more. And when the reality hits that a family must leave for whatever reason, it feels like a form of death for a minister. It is not merely an organizational change. It is the quiet severing of a shared life.
Ministers pour into the lives of saints in a deeply emotional way. When Paul spoke of being a father to the Corinthians, this was no metaphor. For Paul, to watch little children grow up under your care, to see them suffer, to walk and live with them in the rhythm of the church calendar year after year, can only be described as a fatherly role. It is, in one sense, the feeling parents have when their children leave for college or the feeling a sister has when their best friend leaves for another state. It all reaches into the deepest places of human affection.
Changes happen. Things move. Chapters close. Kids grow up. But the absence of the following Sunday, when those chairs are no longer filled with the presence and humanity of those saints, carries a loss that is hard to articulate. Even when the departure stems from difficult relationships, theological differences, or a professional move, we, pastors, humbly called to serve and filled with our own insecurities, suffer the absence of those whom we loved in our local community. We, therefore, pray that our reunion one day will supply some of the joy that departed when they first left, trusting that the communion of saints is not ultimately broken, but only, for a time, scattered.
Notations
New Perspectivalist Episode
Great thanks to the ladies on The Feminine Glory Podcast for having me on.
This is quite well written. Thank you Uri. Even as a Ruling Elder, I pour my life into the life of our local church in a pastoral way. I have shared the same difficulties as our pastor when members leave.
What if your pastor does none of that and actually seems like his quest is complete when you leave.