Do people ever ask you about what you do?

And you can tell from the way they ask the question, or the tone in their voice, that it’s not because they’re interested in learning about what you do, but more so because they don’t really believe that you do anything when you’re not up on stage — or in front of a group.

Or maybe some will inquire a little more generously, only to joke with you about “how nice you’ve got it,” or how much they wish they could “just hang out with students all day.”

Do you ever feel like most people just don’t get what you do, or even notice the work that you do?

Do you ever find yourself feeling somehow devalued because of the work that you do — as a pastor?

If so, you’re not alone.

Consider these words from Eugene Peterson in his memoir The Pastor:

…we were pastors in a culture that “did not know Joseph.” Our identity out of which we lived was unrecognized by virtually everybody, in and out of church.

Which also meant we were lonely, and sometimes angry that we were lonely. A few years before we started meeting, Ralph Ellison wrote one of the great novels on being African-American in America, with the title Invisible Man.  He provided a detailed and penetrating understanding of what it means to live in a society in which nobody even “sees” you, the actual you, the feeling, thinking, working you. If you are black, your skin color makes you, the real you, invisible. In prisons, solitary confinement is the cruelest punishment. In society, nonrecognition is comparable. Our vocation made us invisible. A pastor in America is the invisible man, the invisible woman.

If I’m honest I must confess that I don’t totally resonate with this passage from Peterson.

But I also recognize that I have never served as a pastor in the context that Eugene did — on the East Coast — in Baltimore proper.

I would think that there are a number of factors that might come into play in determining how “invisible” we might feel:

• region of the country
• denomination
• length of time in your position
• education level
• gender
• ethnicity
• traditional view of your role within the church or institution
• how intentionally your institution is living into its Christian mission and identity

… and I’m sure there are others

As I white male, who has worked in a variety of denominations, primarily in what would be considered “the South,” with a couple of post-graduate degrees, I recognize that I have a lot less to overcome than many others.

So I’m curious to know:

• What does this look like for you in your context?
• Do you ever feel as though people don’t understand or appreciate the work that you do?
• Do you ever feel invisible, and therefore alone, as a result of the work that you do?

This post is not meant to be a downer — but maybe more of a gut check.

As people who are called to pastor others, we’re not often the best at caring for (or even noticing) our own needs.

And as we prepare to launch into a new year of ministry with college students, I encourage you to become more aware of how the kinds of factors that were mentioned above might be impacting your heart, attitude or overall approach to ministry.

If we’re willing to be honest with ourselves about how we feel, and allow God to meet us in those places of need, confusion, frustration, etc., then we might gain the kind of insight, refreshment and redirection we need to move towards a healthier  future.

Please take a moment to share a story, insight or question in the comment section below.

And to read other posts inspired by Eugene Peterson’s The Pastor you can click on:

• Every Step An Arrival
• Helping Students Identify a Call to Pastor
• Pastoring in North America
• Local and Personally Present
• A Story Among Stories
• The Americanization of Congregation
• Are Your Expectations Too High? Probably.
• When You’re Not the Star
• The Messianic Virus