| |
A Wounded Pastor's Rehabilitation
by Pastor Jim Amandus
Now that I had resigned, I felt ripped down the middle. On the one hand, I still loved people, loved the congregation, and loved God. But on the other hand, I couldn't stand the local church.
In all the confusion and hurt that followed, I told myself I never wanted to pastor another church. My ambivalence became obvious in my search for a new job.
Though I would send out my resume, as soon as I would receive a letter of interest, I would trash it. I just couldn't bring myself to fill out a questionnaire or return a phone call from any search committee.
I wasn't about to give anyone the right to scrutinize my life again. I painted all church leaders with one broad brush: pseudo-pious, judgmental, uncaring and hypocritical.
God continued to work in my life, however. My first step back to ministry was a heart-to-heart conversation with my father. We had moved in temporarily with my parents until we could locate new employment and housing.
"Jim, I know you've been badly hurt by what's happened to you," he said. "But don't leave the ministry just yet. God has His hand on you. Your gifts, education, and talents are too great to be discarded. Give it some more time before you make a final decision."
I had always respected my father. His advice that day touched a responsive chord in my heart, broken as it was. Though apprehensive, I decided to give God a few more weeks to change my mind. If nothing happened, I would say goodbye to ministry.
A few days later, a close friend contacted me with a surprising proposal. His pastor, Chuck Wickman, was initiating a new program in their church, "Pastor-in-Residence." It was targeted at restoring pastors who were disillusioned and hurting because of a bad church experience.
I wanted to know more, and within a few days, Pastor Wickman called, inviting me to lunch.
Chuck's easy going, soft spoken manner immediately resonated in my soul. Over lunch I learned that his interest in wounded pastors was more than theoretical. He himself had twice left the ministry after difficult parish experiences. His spirit, though, had been tenderized by those hard encounters. As we talked, I couldn't help but recall my father's prediction that God might still have a place for me in ministry.
Besides wanting to empathize with hurting pastors, Chuck had another motive. It grew out of his overriding conviction: a pastor is a terrible thing to waste.
Crisis experiences, such as the one endured, that drove so many ministers from the local church permanently, grieved him. "It's a tragic squandering of the resources of the Kingdom of God," he said.
He had done extensive research in exploring the reasons why pastors leave the ministry. "My goal is to find a way to stop the hemorrhaging of talent, experience, and ability from the local church," he said. "I'm determined to reclaim highly-trained, competent and caring individuals for ministry."
His invitation to enter the Pastor-In-Residence program was like oil poured on my wounds. Less than three months after I had left my church humiliated and bitter, I was preparing to re-enter the ministry as a Pastor In Residence. I was, by no means, agreeing to accept another church if offered one, but I was taking the first step in that direction.
The structure of the Pastor-In-Residence program was simple. I was asked to make a six month to one year commitment to the church. In addition, I was instructed to raise my own financial support. Chuck would assist me in sending out a fund-raising letter to my friends and family. Finally, I would serve as a member of the staff and meet with Chuck once a week.
Beyond that, I was not expected to carry any formal ministry responsibilities at the church. If I needed help or counseling in any particular area, the church promised to match me with the appropriate resources. I was free to do as much or as little as I wished.
Because I had previous training in Christian Education, I began helping the Sunday school superintendent arrange classes and curriculum. Besides keeping me busy, it quietly reminded me that I still had something to offer the local church.
I realized I needed to deal with the unresolved anger I carried from my previous church. Throwing resumes in the trash can was no long term solution.
I sought the help of an individual in the church finishing his master's degree in counseling at a local seminary. He graciously took me on without charge. The fiery outrage still rumbling within slowly died out.
My highest hurdle was forgiving the men who had hurt me. I agonized. Part of me wanted to forgive them; another part wanted revenge. But over time,
I released, bit by bit, the bitterness. As I did, the chains of resentment snapped.
The Pastor-In-Residence program returned to me several things that I had lost. First and perhaps most important was the integrity that goes with the title "pastor." When a pastor is stripped of office and forced to pursue other work, he can face a credibility problem. If a search committee asks, "What are you currently doing?" it's awkward to respond by saying "I'm selling insurance" or "I don't have a job." The title, "Pastor-In-Residence," restored some dignity. I was a pastor applying for another pastorate, not an outcast trying to get a foot in the door.
Second, the Pastor-In-Residence program offered me a safe place to sort out my feelings toward the ministry. Chuck said, "Jim, I want to give you time to make a good decision about future local church ministry, not a decision based on financial pressures, isolation, or a sense that no one cares." By sending out approximately forty letters with a cover letter from Chuck, our financial needs were met. The support poured in. Each letter, each check, each note of encouragement was more than a financial gift. It was a vote I should stay in the ministry. These votes felt like a landslide victory.
The confirmation we experienced was more than financial. Christ Community also helped restore my sense of self-esteem. Little by little, I quit berating myself. People came alongside and said, "Jim, you are a pastor. You have a pastor's heart. You can do it." That helped me to see myself as a pastor again.
The final benefit of the Pastor-In-Residence program was the opportunity to improve my conflict-management skills.
One day I said to Chuck, "I'm still an angry person. I believe part of it is that I've never been taught how to resolve conflict. I internalize problems and blame myself way too much." Chuck directed me to a series of tapes by the Alban Institute on church conflict...I devoured the tapes The tapes showed me alternative ways to handle conflict, each of which has its own unique consequences.
The day came when I was ready to leave the program. I accepted a call to my present church with new-found confidence.
While you can't program love, you can communicate love through a program. That's what the Pastor-In-Residence program does. Like Chuck, I too believe it is a terrible squandering of divine resources to waste a trained, gifted, talented pastor. Sometimes it is the shepherd, not the sheep, who needs to be returned to the fold.
Editor's Note: This profile of a "trampled shepherd" in need of healing has been excerpted, with the author's permission, from his article, "A Wounded Pastor's Rescue," which originally appeared in Leadership magazine, Winter/93. At the time of Pastor Jim Amandus' participation in the "Pastor-In-Residence" program, Chuck Wickman was pastoring Christ Community Church (EPC) in Monrovia, CA. Dr. Wickman was also senior pastor of Kempsville Presbyterian Church in Virginia Beach, VA where the care and feeding of wounded pastors continues to this day. Dr. Wickman is now serving full-time as President of Pastor-In-Residence Ministry. |
