What Do You Do?

This is one of my least favorite questions ever. Inevitably I get asked this question by someone I’ve recently met or with whom I’m just getting a relationship built. And as soon as this question is answered, the conversation stops. I mean the conversation stops as abruptly as a car hitting a brick wall.

Part of the reason is my title. Some people have the title of CEO and it sounds all spicy and cool. Others have Officer or Engineer or Lead something or another. But my title is scary for some people. What do you do? I’m a pastor.

Insert the sound of a car screeching its tires coming to a stop.

The next thing that happens is one of three options. The least likely is for the person to say something like Oh that’s super cool! I’ve always wanted to know a pastor. Admittedly, this one is so unlikely that it’s never actually happened! But I guess it always could?

The next potential reaction would be for the conversation to just stop and the person to act like I no longer exist. This has actually happened a couple of times. It’s almost as if we’re having a great conversation. They find out I’m a pastor, and then I disappear. It’s like I vanish from their midst and they go on to something else like I’ve been transported through some wormhole into a different dimension of time and space. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling.

The most common reaction I get is Oh wow I’m sorry! As weird as this sounds, it always gives me a chuckle. You’re sorry? Really? For what? It’s not like someone held a gun to my head and told me to be a pastor or else. Actually I had a few people who tried to convince me to do something different with my life. What this question actually means however is Oh crap! I’m so sorry! I know I said something that probably offended you and now you’re going to say some magical phrase that’s going to get me banished to hell forever. Or something close to that anyway.

I think the problem is that people, and by people I mean those not connected to a church and those connected to a church, really don’t know what it means for a person to be a pastor. I don’t intend for that to be demeaning toward people by any means. It’s just most people have a pretty limited view of what a pastor does.

I’m the backside of many of those must be nice to only work one day a week kind of jokes. And yes I do know they are joking. But I also think it does show that many people, again both inside and outside of the church, don’t really know what it is that I do.

What do you do? Ok so let’s hit the obvious. I preach and teach about the Bible on Sunday. That’s kind of the given part of this whole scenario. What most people don’t know however is how long it takes to get ready for a given Sunday. I mean when I stand up front on a Sunday without notes and no cool teleprompter, there are 20+ hours that go into making that a reality. I could skimp on that and lessen the teaching but if I do that I should be fired. Without a script or anything it may look like I’m just winging it, but there’s a lot that goes into those couple of hours on a Sunday.

Add to that, there’s preparing small group material, overseeing other staff members, being a volunteer coordinator for over 150 volunteers throughout the year, party planner for those who want fun events but don’t know how to plan them, ensure that all the wheels are greased and running smoothly. Oh then there’s visiting those who are in hospitals and shut ins. Being involved in the community enough that the community knows we exist and are here for them. Did I mention being somewhat accessible nearly 24-7?

What do you do? Well, I’ve canceled vacations because someone has been on their deathbed. I hear some of the most awful stories of brokenness imaginable. Stories I can’t share with anyone, even my wife, because part of being a pastor is confidentiality and trust. I have to watch people say and do some pretty dumb things and not react too harshly in the moment. (sometimes I’m better at this than others).

What do you do? I get up a 2am when you’re having the worst night of your life. I come to your bedside when you’re terrified. I’m the one standing in the room when your loved one is struggling with their final moments. I’m there to carry you when your marriage is shattered. I shift my schedule to meet with you because you have a day job and my schedule is more flexible. I stand in the room with the lifeless body until the coroner comes. I hold in my emotions so you feel free to unload yours.

What do you do? My favorite is when people tell me they’ve just finished a long 3 week stretch of working 60 hours a week. I mean that can be tiring I’m sure. If I were to log my hours, I’d say more than 3 out of every 4 weeks I’m logging about 60. From time preparing sermons to praying for you, from practicing to preaching, from creating programs to coming in to pinch hit when someone can’t show up, from teaching at least 2 different groups on 2 different topics per week to so many more things that you’re already bored reading this.

What do you do? I carry the spiritual, emotional and at times physical needs of over 250 people. I take it very seriously. If you know me, then you know what I do is give up myself for those +/-250 people. And lest you think this is me complaining, let me be very clear. I choose to do it again year after year, month after month, week after week, day after day.

Being a pastor isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am. It’s not just a job. It’s my very calling. This is what I’ve been made to be. I could do a million other things, but none of them are what God made me to do. What do I do? Well, simply put, I’m a pastor. More than a job, this is my life. And I’m so honored to be able to do all of it.