Growing up as a music minister’s kid, I had no ambitions to marry someone in the ministry.  No resulting trauma or deep regrets, my reservations had more to do with the wounds my parents had endured than any residual resentment within me.   Being the daughter of an associate pastor had brought my sister and I up close to the humanity of those we were to see as our shepherd.  Outwardly compliant, I was deeply skeptical of any spiritual leadership.  My parents’ journey through ministry had left its scars on me. 

However, when I met my husband, who was and still is a youth pastor, all reservations about marrying into the ministry paled in light of our romance.  God has a way of unraveling our self-protective measures at a rapid pace and in unexpected ways (that is, if we choose to surrender).  We still joke about the article on being a pastor’s wife that Scott “assigned” me to read before our engagement.  Obviously my submission issues ran deep because I didn’t read it until after we were engaged.  Thankfully, in His gentleness and grace, God has done a marvelous work of healing in my life–and in my heart toward spiritual authority.

One thing about ministry, though, doesn’t change.   

Leaders, regardless of their spiritual gifting, anointing or training, are human.  Sadly, the church body has expected its leaders to extend grace and carry the weight of members’ own failings.  Meanwhile, pastors place their heads in their hands and weep, wondering who carries them. 

Undoubtedly, the pulpit is a sacred place and should be regarded as such by those in leadership.  While the gifts and callings of God are without repentance (Romans 11:29), the story of Sampson and King Saul demonstrate that the anointing can lift in light of continued disobedience.  But what is our response when a pastor hurts–not because of some moral failing—but because he’s human and life sometimes holds suffering, even for those who have been tirelessly faithful?  Who holds them in their hour of need?  Do we extend the measure of grace we expect?

2 Corinthians 4:7 says, “But this precious treasure—this light and power that now shine within us—is held in perishable containers, that is, in our weak bodies.  So everyone can see that our glorious power is from God and is not our own.”  Leaders do not live in some place of supernatural perfection.  Rather, their earthen vessels sit in places of high visibility where the smallest chip or defect becomes readily seen. How valuable the leader who stands vulnerable, whether he has sought or life has required transparency.  When those in leadership over us hurt, do we fall to our knees and ask God that they know that they are “pressed on every side by troubles, but. . . not crushed and broken.  We are perplexed, but we don’t give up and quit.  We are hunted down, but God never abandons us.  We get knocked down, but we get up again and keep going.” (2 Cor 4:8-10)? 

Positioning ourselves in judgment against leaders who are walking a difficult path does not make us immune to the trials they suffer.  Instead, it isolates us from the grace we will soon need.  For us all—leader or follower—the promise is sure:  the more we die, the more we live.  But embracing the suffering of Jesus is no easy place.  Sometimes it holds a pain beyond any we could imagine.  Always, though, God is faithful.  Imagine the healing power that would flow from the church outward if we exhibited that same faithfulness to one another.