Dear Clergy: A Letter for November

Post Author: Sara Nave Fisher

My dear, weary, fierce colleagues in ministry,

It’s been a year, hasn’t it? None of us knew going in to 2020 what would come; none of us expected to spend the majority of the year figuring out how to minister to and with people we couldn’t be within an arm’s reach of. And yet, here we are.

photo taken by the author at a clergy retreat in 2019

Let’s recap, shall we? We ended Lent during stay-at-home orders and celebrated Easter in parking lots and dining room tables. We canceled VBS, camps, and mission trips. We figured out cameras and live streaming and answered questions we never even knew we needed to ask. We learned Zoom and taught it to our congregations. Then taught it again. Then trouble-shot it. We switched platforms, software, hardware, and techniques, using skills that we never learned in seminary. We planned sermon series to speak to our trauma and danger; we found new ways to distribute food and serve our communities. We have planned and started over and planned some more; we have figured out how to administer communion in ways that are theologically and physically sound; we have presided over weddings and funerals over cameras and screens. We have held relationships together that are strained because of a contentious election; we have risked and weighed when, how, and how much to speak prophetically. We provided care over phone calls and texts instead of hospital beds and coffee tables. We have cried and prayed, wondered and doubted… all while trying to keep ourselves, our loved ones, and our congregations healthy.

Whew. That list isn’t even exhaustive.

And yet. AND YET. Every step of the way, pastors made it happen. Surrounded and upheld by the Spirit, we served God’s beloved. You served God’s beloved.

Even still, if you’re like most clergy I’ve spoken to recently, it never feels like it’s enough. Whatever your ministry has looked like this year, it’s likely not what you would have hoped it to be. I’m a firm believer that, whatever choices each of us have made for ourselves and our congregations this year, we’re all doing our best with the resources we have. Unfortunately, in spite of all these efforts, many pastors and church staff have heard seemingly endless complaints about what they are and are not doing. That is taking a toll. Even if you are in a supportive and flexible congregation, ministry right now is mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining.

So… take a deep breath. Right now. Close your eyes. Breathe again.

And hear this:

Well done, Pastor. You have been faithful to God and to your Call.
You are enough, you’ve done enough, and you are loved.
Well done.

Several years ago I was going through a difficult season, as was a good friend, and we were both in situations where our lives were spent taking care of others. About once a month we would check in and ask: What is one thing you’ve done just for you? It was a consistent reminder when life would get too busy (isn’t it always?!). Having her check in on me gave me the permission I sometimes needed to remember that in order to care for others, I had to renew my own energy and sense of identity.

So that’s my question for you today: What is one thing you’ve done recently just for you, that has fed your soul, your body, and your mind?

If you can’t think of anything, here is my gentle suggestion — and challenge:

Carve out space this November to replenish. Ideally it would be a week of vacation or a Sunday out of the pulpit, but maybe all you can pull together is an hour on a Tuesday evening or Saturday morning. Whenever and for however long it is, take this time to intentionally refill. What fills your soul? A long walk outside? A centering bath? An evening with friends, even on Zoom? A good book? Trying a new recipe? Something else? Your soul-nourishment might not look like mine, and that’s okay. The key is to take intentional time to fill up so that we can keep going.

We know that the work isn’t over. You probably already have been working on planning Advent. We always work a season ahead, right? But this year, even the things that we can rely on muscle memory to plan will require extra energy. “The way we’ve always done it” is not a phrase we can use, for better and for worse. Whether we’re meeting in-person, online, or in some hybrid format, it isn’t the same as it was, and without taking some time to replenish now, we risk depletion by Christmas.

Friends, we’re about to start another lap of this marathon of ministry, and we need a water break. We cannot serve when we’re running on empty, and our congregations are better served when we take a break before we hit a wall.

So take another deep breath, and remember that you aren’t in this alone. Take time for rest and renewal, and we will keep going, one step at a time.