It was going to happen eventually… and it did. A member of my congregation made a small complaint, in passing, to my moderator, who passed it on to the pastoral relations committee, who passed it on to me. It wasn’t a harsh complaint. In fact, I’m not even sure I should call it a complaint. It was a question: What does he do? He’s only here a couple of half days a week.
Now, I think part of that question was a misunderstanding. It’s true that my official office hours are Tuesday and Thursday from around 9am to around 1pm. It’s also true that I am at the church on Sunday mornings (worship) and Monday evenings (meetings). And as programming picks up, I expect that I’ll add Wednesday evenings to that schedule. I also have not-exactly-office hours at a coffee shop or elsewhere on Wednesday afternoons and sometimes have random other events in the community. ‘Official office hours when I’m available for anyone to just drop in’ and ‘times I am at the church’ are not the same thing.
But I also think there’s a deeper disconnect here. The question that this parishioner asked is a common one. Every pastor has heard some variation of it. Sometimes, they’ve heard it as a genuine question. Sometimes, they’ve heard it as a complaint. But every pastor has heard it.
And the root of that question is in the fact that a lot of what pastors do is invisible to the people we serve. That’s nobody’s fault. It’s also common in a lot of professions (no one sees everything that their a lawyer, realtor, or financial advisor does). But, like other professions that have a public side and where a segment of the public has some authority over the people in it — professions like teachers, police officers, city construction workers, and others — people keep an eye on pastors. And it makes sense that they would be curious about what we (or, at least, I) do when they can’t see us.
So, what do I do? A lot.
I prepare worship services for every Sunday. That includes basic things like writing unison prayers, choosing hymns, and getting announcements together. It also includes the sermon. I estimate that between reading, researching, and writing, it takes me about one hour to write one minute of each sermon.
I attend meetings. I’m still pretty new, so right now I attend almost every committee meeting. I’m really hoping to get to a place where I have just a handful of committees that I have to meet with every month and where I can just check in on other committees from time to time. In addition to church meetings, I have various things in the community, especially meetings with organizations that would like to see my church get involved.
I visit people. Sometimes it’s in person, sometimes it’s over the phone. Sometimes it’s long conversations, sometimes it’s a quick check-in. Sometimes it’s at someone’s house, sometimes it’s at a hospital. This is one of the least predictable parts of my job, and it’s one of the most important. I am available to people.
I develop media. In my first couple of months, I’ve reclaimed the church’s social media channels, created a brand new website, and revamped our weekly e-newsletter. In addition to that, I create content. The most important pieces are writing newsletter articles and making sure that sermons get put on the website. But there are plenty of other little content projects that need attention.
I plan. Right now, I’m putting together a confirmation curriculum for our next program year. Soon, I’ll start planning a Wednesday night Advent program, followed by a Wednesday night Lenten program. I’m also planning a multi-stage visioning process (which I’ll be writing many newsletter articles and email updates about). And, of course, once things are planned, I’ll need to execute those plans. It’s a constant cycle of discover, dream, design, and deploy.
And I probably do a bunch of other things that I’m can’t even think of. And I spend time with my family, and maintain this blog, and do other non-work and work-adjacent stuff.
And the fact is that most of that is invisible. And I know it. No one is watching me write a sermon or choose hymns or create social posts or write a newsletter article or plan a curriculum or visit someone in the hospital or any of those other things. And that’s the way it has to be.
But it’s also an important reminder. Everyone is doing things that I don’t know about. Everyone has a life that is hidden from me. And some parts of that hidden life are wonderful. And some parts are miserable. And some parts are ordinary. But recognizing that other people have hidden lives and making room for them might just be the beginning of grace.
[bctt tweet=”Everyone is doing things that I don’t know about. Everyone has a life that is hidden from me. And recognizing that other people have hidden lives and making room for them might just be the beginning of grace.” username=”cmarlinwarfield”]