It’s a tough time to be a clergyperson. We are expected not only to be able to complete widely-divergent tasks, but to do them well— from plumbing and building issues to website design (and maintenance) to flock wrangling to sermon writing (and delivering) to community organizing to seer of the future (as long as that “seeing” is the kind of seeing that fits neatly into the congregation’s expectations). Many of us are expected to be good collaborators, within our church community and outside the church community, even when those with whom we are supposed to collaborate are not all that interested in collaborating. And, then there are all of the complex and thorny issues around church communities becoming smaller and older.

During a recent conversation with a layperson who served on a local church search committee for that church’s new pastor, the person exclaimed with glowing admiration and boundless assurance that the soon-to-be new pastor of his church would usher that community into a new future of growth and opportunity. I was a bit taken aback by this man’s grand expectations that were clearly grounded in magical, unrealistic thinking. I wondered if the new pastor, who would be not only new to that community, but new to ministry (having only recently been ordained), had any idea of what is expected of her.

I’ve been in clergy conversations recently in which the word “stressful” has been the key word. Many of these conversations, I’ve started to realize, focus on one or two or a tiny group at a local church that cause almost all of the stress. The stressfulness rarely comes from an entire community, or even most of a church congregation. It always seems to be a very small number, sometimes as small as a single person. Yet, one of the most stressful aspects is that the rest of the congregation is either unwilling or unable to confront the difficult person or very small group. This sets up a situation where one person, or a tiny group of people, largely set the tone for the entire (not large to begin with) congregation and that tone includes impossible, and unfair, expectations of the church’s pastor. Since most of the clergy that I connect with are in sole pastorates, most of which are less than full-time, this is a particularly enervating state of affairs.

It’s a tough time to be a clergyperson. For myself, I feel fortunate not to be in the midst of at least some of the same issues as my colleagues. While Old South would love to experience some growth and opportunity (what congregation wouldn’t?), I don’t think most people hold outrageous expectations around what I’m supposed to do about growth and opportunity. I’ve been preaching for a very long time about the bigger issues that we are facing, in the national decline in church membership and participation, etc. Still, I wouldn’t exactly characterize my work and ministry as a walk in the park.

Some of the most challenging aspects of being a pastor are connected to my own consternation around those wider issues. Church community has been, for so much of my life, a place of great significance, a place where I’ve experienced love, grace and blessing. How can it be that I’m now in the midst of a ministry that is considering the sale of a church building or where a Sunday attendance of more than thirty people is something to celebrate? I don’t want to be in this spot, any more than my parishioners.

As I read article after article about the mental health crisis taking over this country, I wonder a lot about how local churches can wave themselves into the community’s consciousness: feeling unloved and full of despair? We can help with that!

At the same time, I am very much aware of at least some of the things that keep people away, including clergy abuse of children, clergy abuse of women, and the various other scandals that have rocked large churches and therefore, have received media coverage. It’s a very big thing for a small church to endeavor to build, or rebuild, trust in a community.

It’s a tough time to be a clergyperson. Yet, I find myself often contemplating the stories about the earliest of Jesus followers, especially after the crucifixion and then resurrection. So many of them were terrified, huddled together behind locked doors. Somehow, though, they managed to pull themselves together, to open themselves to a new reality, which likely wasn’t at all what they thought it would be, and they set out to share the Good News, little by little, making a huge difference in the lives of one person after another. That’s our calling as well. It may not make the reality of our lives and ministries any easier, but a renewed sense of purpose might do a great deal to diminish the magical and unrealistic expectations that parishioners put on their pastors.