The pastors today who will stay at one call their entire ministry are rare. In fact, out of my graduating seminary class, only one of my close colleagues is still in their first call almost eight years later. And while all pastors know they will probably be called away at some point, I’m not sure you’re ever truly prepared for it when it happens.
So let’s imagine, pastor, that you’ve just said “yes” to that call committee in Minot, N.D., and you now have to say goodbye to your current call and context. If you’re anything like I was in my first call transition, your heart and brain had stopped talking long ago and you were excited, sad, nervous, determined and about 10 other contradictory words all at once. And you’re thinking to yourself, “What’s next?”
Well, in my experience, here are five things that happen:
- People will be sad and some will be angry. And one of those people will be you. And some people will be so angry they’ll start to say that you’re acting distant—when you were thinking the same thing about them. And psychologically we know that, yes, you are all acting distant because this is one way the heart prepares for transition. But you’ll take offense at the blame games and think, “Well, it just goes to show it is time to go.” But that’s not true—all it does is show you are human. Allow yourself time to grieve, allow them time to grieve, and learn to be gentle with it all so you don’t leave with sharp edges on your ministry.
- You’ll feel like you’re cheating. And you’ll feel trapped. Your head will be in your new place even as you’re preparing to tell your current call everything and set them up for success. You’ll feel guilty because you snuck away to interview with another church and you pretended the call team that came to hear you preach were all just visitors that one Sunday. Your people will feel like you’ve cheated on them too—at least at first. It’s a delicate dance and a difficult system. This was what I struggled with the most because when you love people, you don’t want to hurt them, and yet when nothing is certain, you can’t complicate your relationship by explaining the process. This is one feeling you’ll have to find a way to work through.
- You’ll eat. Because people will invite you over for dinner. And they’ll say things like, “We meant to do this years ago.” And you’ll have a lovely evening and think to yourself, “If we’d had this kind of relationship years ago, maybe I’d be staying!” But that, too, is a lie you tell yourself to make it all easier. The call is from God, and you must remember that sometimes God calls you even if you don’t want to go. Oh, and you will have to turn down two out of three of these dinner invitations because you won’t have the time or the bandwidth, and you’ll settle for coffee or a handwritten note instead.
- You’ll find out that people actually loved you. Maybe they didn’t show it well when you were there, but when time is short they won’t mince words. And you shouldn’t either.
- You’ll be grateful. At least I was. Grateful for leaving a great place and for going to a great place. Grateful for what had been and excited for what is to come. Even my colleagues who left places under duress of some sort identified a sense of gratefulness for much of what had been. And that is a blessing, even if it is a small one.
All of the above is written not just for the pastor but also for the congregation whose pastor has just announced his or her departure. You must be gentle with one another, and with yourself. With change the greatest fear is loss, which means the process of dealing with loss well must be taken on intentionally and wholeheartedly by everyone.
As I’ve written before, the call is not the pastor’s nor the people’s—it is God’s. After all, God promised the stars to Abraham and his descendants but conveniently left out the purging desert journey in the fine print. And yet, here we are faithful ones—we will get through this and find blessing here too. For everyone.
