The Life of a Pastor’s Kid
By Deborah Lesshope, 19th Episcopal District
I remember the first time I heard someone say something bad about my dad. He and I were working, gathering music in his office one late afternoon when I heard the harsh words of others. I looked back at him with tears in my eyes, anger and sorrow stinging my face. It was the first time I remember wondering why he even did it. I wanted him to say something, call them out, or make them feel sorry for their words. Yet, there he sat, calm, compassionate, and merciful.
He knew who was speaking those words; yet week after week, I watched him love and serve them as though they had never been heard. I did the same.
As time went on, I began to notice more of the realities of ministry. I watched him pray over the vision God had given him. I witnessed him working hard to fulfill the vision. I watched him praying for the sick to receive their healing. Then, I heard the disgruntled murmurs. I’d see people roll their eyes and doubt his efforts.
I watched him pour into people as they turned their back to him the moment they didn’t like what he had to say. I saw him on his knees praying for so many he genuinely loved. I witnessed the tears of pain that fell from his eyes.
I watched him getting out of his sickbed to attend to members’ needs and expectations, leaving his own family to take care of themselves. I saw children mocking us at school because we were not able to afford what they had. As his children, we still persevered because of the faith he instilled in us.
Members would walk up right after service just to tell him how much they hated it. When I’d raise hell on a Saturday night, he would still get up with a heavy heart on Sunday to lead us in worship. Though there were times he didn’t understand God’s plan, he would still choose to trust Him, knowing His plan was good.
Yet, even in God’s will, with a family that loved Jesus, with all the joys of serving, ministry was hard! Ministry hurt. Ministry cost him, all of us, something. We have the scars to prove it.
The news of a pastor taking his own life hits too close to home. Pastors are also human, have feelings, and expectations.
My daddy has never experienced depression or anxiety. If he has, he has hidden it well from us. Yet, he’s still felt the searing pain of following God’s will. He watched his family bear the burdens of ministry. He’s soothed the cries of his daughters hurt by the church. Yet, he has never wavered in his trust of God’s plan and the anointed calling on his life.
Pastors and their families are not exempted from pain. They are not exempted from guilt or shame. They are not exempted from financial strain. They are not exempted from family dysfunction. They are not perfect. They still sin. They always need grace. Do you pray for your pastor and his family? If you see one of them failing, feel a tug in your heart to call, notice their spouses and children in need love, minister to them as they have ministered to you.
They are tired. They bear deep burdens. They wrestle with God. Yet, there remain there, faithfully serving, unconditionally loving, and forever trusting.
Ministry has revealed the true depravity of man. Ministry has etched scars upon my heart. Ministry has placed heavy burdens upon my shoulders. Nevertheless, it was my daddy, my pastor, who taught me how to love as Jesus did, how to forgive as Jesus did, how to serve as Jesus did, and how to live a life of worship before the throne, always trusting Jesus.
