Another Sunday and I am not at church again.
That's hardly unusual for most Canadians. But for me it's different. I am a United Church minister.
It's been almost 30 years since I was ordained in one of the most sacred of all Canadian places – a hockey arena. The group in charge of the service chose it because the local church was not big enough. From that day forward my whole life (and the life of my wife and two children) was driven by the needs and wants of the church.
My agenda was full. Sometimes I would have up to four services to conduct on a Sunday. During the week there were the many pastoral, administrative, social-action and educational duties to perform. I experienced many blessings in my ministry.
But now things are different. A series of deaths in the family and upheavals in my church was too much for my serotonin-deficient brain to handle no matter how often I counted my blessings. I am off on medical leave with clinical depression. I am not well enough to lead Sunday services, and many days I am not well enough simply to attend and sit in the pew.
I am not alone in my struggle with this misunderstood ailment that Winston Churchill once labelled “the black dog.” Two of the top three drugs prescribed for clergy under our medical plan are antidepressants. Even some of the greatest heroes of the Bible experienced it. At one difficult point during his ministry, the prophet Elijah became so overwhelmed with irrational feelings of isolation and defeat that he sat under a broom tree wanting to die.
When I do feel up to going to church I usually go to a friend's service and sit near the back. She's an excellent minister and her congregation is understanding. But often when I am there I realize how much I miss being a congregational minister. I miss the weekly spiritual growth I received through sermon writing, the aroma of the bread and wine on the altar, the opportunities I had to connect with parishioners in deep and meaningful ways, and the great privilege of having a front-row seat to the ways God is at work in our community.
There are things I don't miss. I thank God for my freedom from the morass of church politics, the endless meetings devoted more to the care of the institution than mission, and especially dealing with the damage done by people who, even after years of sitting in the pew, still don't “get it.”
One particularly hurtful group is what we call “clergy killers” (from Dr. G. Lloyd Rediger's book of the same name). These congregants take advantage of the church to work out feelings of impotence and low self-esteem. Subconsciously they believe if they put down the minister in the eyes of the congregation they can raise their own standing. So they spread rumours about the minister's private life, make false accusations about his or her professional conduct, get elected to committees to block the minister's initiatives and often work behind the scenes to get the minister fired.
Frequently they make the minister's job so difficult the minister moves to another church. I still remember the day I realized I would have to move from a church before my work was done despite the best efforts of so many parishioners to set things right. I felt sad, but also set free.
My therapist says facing such stressors is not good for me. So I will need to give up full-time congregational ministry.
