In March 2020, I began pastoring the church where I currently serve. A week after my first Sunday, the whole world shut down. The weeks that followed were challenging, but a silver lining emerged as my family grew close to the staff. We shared family meals weekly, our kids played together, and we leaned on each other.
As restrictions eased and life returned to some semblance of normalcy, everyone resumed their pre-pandemic routines, returning to friend groups and other community activities. The church members had watched me online for months and felt they knew me, but I didn’t know them. Suddenly, I realized I was in a city I didn’t know, pastoring people I didn’t know, and nearly five hours away from family and old friends. I was alone.
I didn’t want to accept that reality. My pride wouldn’t let me admit that I felt isolated in both ministry and life. My marriage was strong, and my kids were adjusting well, but I was struggling. I became irritable and angry, gained a significant amount of weight, and my blood pressure soared. Ministry itself was thriving—our church began to grow post-pandemic—but even good things can add stress.
In His providence, the Lord blessed me with a strong group of young pastors in Texas. We formed a brotherhood, and I can’t express how grateful I am for them. They provided friendship and a safe space to be honest about my mental and spiritual state.
This March marks five years in my current ministry assignment. I love my church and city, and the Lord has blessed me with friends inside and outside the congregation. My marriage remains strong, and my kids are thriving, but lately, I’ve been wrestling with thoughts of inadequacy and self-doubt. I know these are attacks from the enemy, but if I’m wrestling with them, maybe you are too.
Recently, I took a long drive around our county to pray and reflect. As I assessed our current situation, here’s what I realized:
- Our church is stable. Growth has slowed, but attendance remains strong.
- Our finances are tight—but what church’s aren’t right now?
- Our staff is gifted and strong, even if we occasionally deal with personality conflicts.
- Our discipleship model is working, and our kids ministry is thriving.
As I’ve tried to discern why I’m wrestling with some of these negative thoughts, I’ve realized it’s because I fear change. I know change is necessary at times. There are things in the church that need to change, but I know those changes will create ripples. Instead of addressing them, I’ve been applying Band-Aids to keep things moving. I know this approach only makes the situation harder to address later. This ineffectiveness feels like incompetence, and the enemy whispers that my biggest fear is true: I’m not good enough.
What did I do? I wept before the Lord, talked with my wife, and started to plan.
On that late night drive, I cried out to God for strength, endurance, and peace. I prayed to be reminded of my identity in Christ and asked for a heart free from self-pity. A few days later, I confided in a trusted friend who prayed for me. Afterward, I called my wife to share my burdens. She reminded me to hold ministry with open hands. “This is the Lord’s church, not ours,” she said. “He loves his bride more than we ever could.” She went on to say that holding ministry with open hands forces us to rely on God rather than our abilities. Her words reignited an excitement I hadn’t felt in months.
The next morning, I began journaling and sketching out a five-year vision for our church. I finally felt like I had direction again—not like a captain who lost the map. It will take time and effort to prepare and implement this plan, but I believe the Lord has initiated something that could impact our church for the next generation.
Does this resonate with you? Have you been struggling with thoughts of inadequacy or loneliness? Do you feel like a captain who’s lost the map? Brother, I feel you. Let me leave you with a few thoughts to help navigate this season:
1. Remember your identity in Christ
Your value doesn’t rest on how well you preach or handle church budgets. Your value lies in being purchased by the shed blood of Jesus Christ. Don’t lose sight of this truth.
2. Seek the Lord
As you prepare for the next season of ministry, pray for God’s guidance and wisdom to follow His lead.
3. Talk to trusted friends
Sometimes, we need others to point out our blind spots. Seek counsel from those you love and trust, and don’t be afraid to ask them to speak into your life.
4. Keep planning
Dream, journal, process, brainstorm—whatever helps you organize your thoughts. Pray over your plans and hold them with open hands.
Jesus loves His church more than any pastor ever could. But he has given you the high calling to shepherd His flock. Do so with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Hold your ministry with open hands, careful not to strangle it with control or idolize it. Know when to stay and fight for what is right and when to let go. Trust that God will make it clear.
Brother, keep your hand to the plow. Do not grow weary in doing good. Pastor the flock of God with joy.
Editor's Note: As a part of its commitment to fostering conversation within the Southern Baptist Convention, the Baptist Review may publish editorials that espouse viewpoints that are not necessarily shared by the TBR team or other contributors. We welcome submissions for responses and rebuttals to any editorials as we seek to host meaningful conversations about the present and future of our convention.
Caleb Fleming
Caleb Fleming is the Senior Pastor of Fairview Baptist Church in Sherman, TX. He holds a B.S. from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, an MTS from Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, and he is currently a Ph.D. student at MBTS (Historical Theology). He has been in vocational ministry for twelve years, nine of those years as a Senior Pastor. Caleb has written for the Southern Baptist of Texas Convention’s Young Pastors Network blog and For The Church. He is married to Gwen, and they have three children: Colton, Noah, and Lily Grace.