10 Things I Have Learned in Two Years as a Pastor
Reflections on two years in pastoral ministry as a 29-year old.
Two years ago today, January 8th, 2022, I packed up everything I owned and moved to Chicago. I had just graduated from divinity school a month prior, and celebrated my younger brother’s wedding the day before. At the time, everything I owned fit in my car. It was early Monday morning when I set sail on a ten-hour drive to the Windy City.
Two years later, here are some things I am learning (key word) about myself, life, God and people.
People Cannot Be Reduced to Their Best or Worst Moments
I am convinced: people cannot be defined by the best they have ever accomplished, nor reduced to the worst they have ever done. Life is complex, and sin is real. These past two years have taught me to lean into compassion and curiosity. I’m more interested in why people do things than simply what they do.
We live in a compassion-less world, where there is hardly room or a chance for redemption. Where can people go to confess their deepest regrets, sorrows, and hurts without being defined by them? God, of course.
Yet I believe the church—and their ministers and pastors—must also cultivate a posture of openness—inviting and holding space for people to be human so they can experience the God who came down to us to meet us where we are. If God can meet you and me where we are, it is an invitation to us to meet people where they are. The resurrection teaches us there is nothing and no one too far gone who cannot experience new life and a chance with God.
Everyone is Going Through Something
This is closely tied to the first one. People aren’t just mean—they’re hurt. They aren’t just rude—they’re drowning in disappointment. They aren’t just shallow and distant, grief weighs on their heart that seems never-ending and overwhelming. This doesn’t absolve people’s behavior, but it does humanize people.
As a pastor, I’ve been reminded that everyone carries burdens you can’t see. Paul’s admonition to let our words be seasoned with salt, as grace (Col. 4:6) has never felt more relevant. I’m learning to approach others with gentleness, even when it’s hard.
Funerals Remind us What it Means to Truly Live
I have been to more funerals these last two years than I have in my entire life. Every time, I am struck by the sobering reality of death. Lifeless bodies in caskets—no matter how many times I encounter them—never feel normal. I hope they never will.
Funerals invite me to reflect on how I’m living the life God has given me and how I want to be remembered. Listening to the words of loved ones reminds me that legacy isn’t built on grand moments but on consistent, faithful love over time.
(Plus, there is nothing more cringeworthy than listening to people share remarks about the deceased and they are scraping for nice things to say 😬).
Living in a Glass House is Not Fun.
As a pastor—a young one, at that—life often feels like living in a glass house. People watch, interpret and (often) misinterpret every. single. thing. you do (or don’t do). I am coming to terms with the fact it comes with the territory. Nonetheless, it’s exhausting, and not enjoyable to say the least.
I have a therapist and some friends who help me process and think through this. But I’m learning that my worth isn’t tied to people’s perception. Pastoral leadership sometimes requires courage to be misunderstood and faith to trust God with the outcome.
Preaching really is a Burdensome Joy
James Earl Massey described preaching as a burdensome joy. It is calling that demands more than intellectual preparation. It’s a spiritual wrestling match, where God often convicts the preacher before using their words to convict others. Though some think it does, this work cannot happen overnight. It involves prayer, study, divine insight and humility. Ephesians reminds us that we wrestle not with flesh and blood, making preaching both weighty and exhilarating—a sacred burden that transforms the preacher even as it reaches the hearts of the congregation. You toil, prepare and preach boldly just for people to forget everything by lunchtime. lol
Don’t try to do or be for others, what only God can do and be in their life.
I work for God, and I am not God. My name is Samuel, not Jesus. I help and serve people, I cannot change them. Coming to terms with these limitations is freeing.
I think of a line John Onwuchekwa wrote often: Pastors aren't meant to stand between you and God. Pastors exist to make sure nothing else does.
Boundaries are difficult. Being accessible does not mean you have to always be available.
Tied to the previous point, boundaries are one of the hardest lessons to embrace as a pastor. There’s an unspoken expectation to always be accessible, to be present for every need and crisis. While accessibility is vital for building trust and relationships, it doesn’t mean being perpetually available. Without boundaries, I am learning burnout is inevitable (hence why the burnout rate is so high among clergy). Learning to say “not now” or delegate is an act of stewardship—honoring your own health so you can faithfully serve others long-term.
Pastor’s are people, too.
I wrote a reflection about this a few months back. Extend pastors the same grace they preach on and share with you. Points 1 and 2 both apply to them, too.
It is life-giving to have a leader who sees more in you than you see in yourself.
I have the unique privilege of having a pastor and boss who sees in me more than I see in myself. He believes in me more than I believe in myself. I can’t help but think this is not everyone’s experience, but I do not take for granted that it is mine. This gives me the humble-confience. to grow and mature, to fail and try again.
Through highs and lows, serving God in pastoral ministry has been the most meaningful and life-giving two years of my life.
For about a year in Divinity School I worked at a marketing firm that did marketing for a bank. One of my tasks was to fold letters, stuff, stamp and seal envelopes that would be mailed out to clients. Initially, I liked it because it was mindless work. I could listen to a podcast and get it done. I thought that was what I needed. A few months later, I dreaded going to that job because, to me, it was meaningless work. It was at that moment where I learned that making an impact, doing meaningful work and utlizing the gifts God has given me is what I want to spend my life doing. And, I think I am where God has me in pastoral ministry.
If the Lord says the same, this is just the beginning.
-SH
Thanks for sharing--there's so much wisdom in your words! I hope you continue to grow in it as you serve in ministry. I know you will!
This was a very good read and so near to everyone!