Readings for today: Jeremiah 12-13, 1 Timothy 4
For months I’ve been praying for dear friends in ministry across the country. I’ve had countless conversations with pastors and ministry leaders from all walks of life. All kinds of churches. Across all sorts of denominations. For years they’ve served their congregations faithfully. They’ve wept with those who weep. They’ve laughed with those who laugh. They’ve mourned with those who mourn. They’ve rejoiced with those who rejoice. They’ve baptized, married, counseled, and buried countless people. They’ve been invited into some of the most sacred and tender spaces in people’s lives. They’ve been trusted with secrets. They’ve born incredible burdens. They’ve done all they can to model Jesus to those they love and serve. But the last 18 months has taken a toll. They’re burned out from the stress. Broken by the pressure. Beaten down by the constant conflict. They feel betrayed by the very people to whom they’ve dedicated their lives. According to most estimates, 30% of them are now considering leaving the ministry. Almost 70% report feeling overwhelmed on a regular basis. 40% struggle with anxiety. Another 40% feel exhausted most of the time. It’s heartbreaking.
I certainly am not immune to these pressures. However, I also recognize I’ve benefited from certain built-in advantages. I live in an affluent, extremely healthy community that has weathered the COVID storm relatively well. I’ve served my church for almost twelve years and can draw on a deep well of trust. I’ve got an unbelievable leadership team of elders and staff who have shared the load. My marriage is strong as are my relationships with my teenage and adult children. Perhaps most of all, the years I’ve spent working with pastors in the developing world has helped me maintain perspective in the midst of everything. My brothers and sisters who serve in places like Ethiopia and Uganda and South Sudan have faced, are facing, and will face far more significant challenges that I ever will in my own ministry.
Perhaps that’s why these words from Jeremiah hit so close to home this morning, “If you have raced with men on foot, and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses? And if in a safe land you are so trusting, what will you do in the thicket of the Jordan?” (Jeremiah 12:5) Here God is answering Jeremiah’s complaint. He is tired. He is weary. He has been ignored, dismissed, and betrayed by the very people he feels called to serve. He serves at a difficult time in Israel’s history. The kingdom is about to fall. The line of kings has failed. Injustice, oppression, tyranny, and corruption have brought the nation to her knees. People are suffering terribly. Those he loves are dying all around him. And though he has a Word from the Lord, no one listens. In the midst of his own heartache, Jeremiah cries out to God. How long, O Lord? Why God are you allowing these things to happen? Where are you in the midst of our pain?
God’s answer is direct. If Jeremiah is already tired from racing with men on foot, what’s going to happen when God calls him to even greater sacrifice in the days ahead? If Jeremiah is losing heart while he dwells in relative safety and security, what’s going to happen when God brings destruction on Jerusalem and drives him into the wilderness? Is God being unkind? Does God lack compassion? Is God being mean? Not at all. He is preparing Jeremiah for the journey ahead. Things are only going to get harder. The suffering of God’s people is only going to increase. Pagan nations will invade and burn Jerusalem to the ground. The Temple will be destroyed. The remnant who are left will be dragged into exile. Those who remain will barely survive. And still God’s call remains. Jeremiah is to remain faithful. He is to stand at his post. He is to preach God’s Word. He is to proclaim God’s judgment. He is to minister to those who fight him and attack him and abuse him and oppress him and say all manner of evil about him.
Does any of that sound familiar? You see, I don’t think it’s just pastors and priests who are struggling these days. I can’t tell you the number of first responders I’ve talked to who feel exhausted as well. I can’t tell you the number of doctors and nurses I know who are on the verge of quitting. I can’t tell you the number of teachers and administrators who feel like they are caught in the crosshairs of all that’s going on in our culture today. It’s heartbreaking. And yet God’s call remains for us as well. If we are weary from racing with men on foot, what will happen when the pace picks up and the pressure increases in the days ahead? If we who dwell in relative ease and safety and abundance can’t seem to find any peace, what will happen if supply lines truly crash and the economy fails and our political system implodes and our lives get upended permanently? What will we do then?
God calls His people to be salt and light in the world. He never promised it would be easy. He never promised we’d be understood. He never promised we’d be liked or appreciated. In fact, being salty in a world that’s lost it’s flavor can feel very lonely. Being light in a world that grows ever darker can make us feel very alone. That’s how Jeremiah felt. That’s how many of my friends and colleagues feel. Perhaps that’s how you feel today as well. Take heart! Keep the faith! Lift your eyes above the hills, above the circumstances of this world, and look to God! He is with you. He will never leave you or forsake you. He will give you all the strength and wisdom you need to persevere to the end.
Readings for tomorrow: Jeremiah 14-16, 1 Timothy 5, 6:2