With billionaires exploring the space beyond our atmosphere, it is only a matter of time before another planet is reached and a colony is built. This is precisely Elon Musk’s goal with Mars. Let’s play make believe for a brief moment. Imagine the plan goes through and we do begin to inhabit Mars. But we find we aren’t the only species sharing the planet. There’s a native alien species who resides on Mars and calls it home. Let’s take it a step further, and I promise there is a point to this, and imagine there is a pastor a part of this new group from Earth who has moved to build a new colony. He’s there for the rest of the colonizers, for spiritual support, but eventually finds that the native species is hungry for God’s word. Desperate for it.
In the novel The Book of Strange New Things, by Michel Faber, this is exactly where Peter Leigh finds himself. Peter was an addict, drunk and thief who found new life in Christ, eventually becoming a pastor and ultimately, sets off for a new planet called Oasis, leaving his wife behind on Earth for a chunk of time. He’s gone to preach the good word to new converts. But almost as soon as he arrives, Peter finds out his wife is actually pregnant from when he last saw her and that life on Earth has spun into chaos. Earthquakes, tsunamis, a crashing economy and rising crime rates have left Peter’s pregnant wife, Bea, in a horrible state. She’s poor, about to be homeless, losing her faith, and fears for her life while Peter is out preaching on Oasis still.
A pastor with a congregation to shepherd and a family desperately in need of his help might be something quite relatable to the church today. I recently came across a pastor who posted on Facebook about the close of his three-year old church plant. The reason? Exhaustion. Together with his family, they’d had enough. A break was necessary. Thankfully, a brief scroll through the comment section alerted me to the fact that most people were supportive of this.
Sadly, this is not always the case. A while ago, I attended the local chapter of a larger church somewhat far away. That church was closing down, as were all of the local subsidiaries. Amid the turmoil, my local pastor had the opportunity to plant as a brand new church in place of the old one, along with the other thirteen locations. We were the only one to not do so. The local pastor informed us his family couldn’t do it. They needed a break. Church gossip immediately spread. Either it was the pastor’s wife to blame, the pastor was just a coward, or worse. There was no grace given. But is there no grace for those that give up? (After about a year or so, this pastor, assumedly rejuvenated, ended up planting a church.)
Throughout Christian history and even in today’s world, those who fight faithfully to the end are celebrated. Bonhoeffer did so until his death. Martin Luther brashly continued his ministry even in the face of the Pope coming after him. The early apostles pursued preaching even with threats of death and ultimately, actual death. But ironically, we also tend to reject and vilify those that crumble under the continuing battle of ministry. Those that leave ministry have failed God — and us. We want our leaders to fight and be vigilant, never giving up, but if that pressure crushes them and they fall into divorce, depressed exhaustion, or bitterness towards God, then we turn on them. It’s a lose, lose situation.
We forget that the disciples were told by Jesus to leave towns that did not receive them. Or the stream of judges in Israel who only served their one purpose before fading into obscurity. Or that Paul handed off his ministry to his successors before returning to Jerusalem. We live as if it’s impossible for God’s calling on someone’s life to be to wave the white flag — to give up for a time (or for forever). Or, to put it more strongly, we live as if God isn’t responsible or in control of handling the church.
The stigma of an exhausted pastor has even turned into an entire market. The burnout market. There are books, conferences and blogs galore on ways to prevent and fix burnout in a pastor. But how come there isn’t someone pointing towards the exit? It seems there is an attempt to prevent pastors from leaving the pastorate even when it might be true they should. Last I checked, there was enough grace in the coffer to cover that. Moreover, if the route to quitting is closed then are we keeping people in the pastoral role that have no desire of being there anymore, staying only to avoid controversy and shame?
Our church culture is currently undergoing an examination of who is behind the pulpit. With podcasts like The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill Church and people on social media like PreachernSneakers, we are seeing what happens when pastors get beyond what they are meant to be. And the idea of a pastor who quits helps us see these are just people. People that aren’t designed to be worshipped or praised but rather are simply meant to reveal the good news to us. They are to point out God’s grace and how it seeps into everything we do, even when that means leaving the pulpit behind.
There is virtue in knowing one’s limits and weaknesses. Acknowledging that God might have someone else for the job. It takes humility to step away, a belief that one is, in fact, replaceable. But more importantly, it points to a God whose strength surpasses our finitude.
In The Book of Strange New Things, Peter has to weigh out his options. He’s always dreamed of a congregation as hungry for God’s word as the Oasans are. They desire to hear him preach and teach to them every day, and without a battle. There is no convincing or strong-arming them into belief. A preacher’s dream job. But his wife and soon to be child are withering away. Peter battles with the choices at hand and losing the opportunity to further God’s kingdom, but he eventually decides to head back home to take care of his family.
The church isn’t built on the shoulders of its leaders, for there is one greater who bears the weight. God doesn’t get burnt out. We do, and that’s to be expected. Sometimes we’re exhausted and drained until we’re completely on empty. We have the grace needed to wave our white flags proudly, knowing we’ll be welcomed with open arms regardless with the reassurance that the church will be just fine in God’s hands.
