Church leaders: How are you, really?

A friend once told me about the great tree that used to dominate his back garden in Oxford. It was a magnificent thing - tall, full, the sort of tree children point out from a mile away. It had stood through summers of blistering heat and winters that lashed at it without mercy. Anyone looking on would have called it healthy. Solid. Unshakeable.

But one night the wind rose.

By morning, the tree lay sprawled across the neighbouring flats, its impressive weight now a source of wreckage rather than wonder. The tree surgeons didn’t take long to diagnose the problem. The trunk was hollow. Years of hidden rot had eaten away the core. What looked strong had been quietly crumbling for a long time.

That image has never left me. Perhaps because ministry sometimes feels alarmingly similar.

Those of us who serve in churches - pastors, leaders, spouses alongside them - learn quite early how to look well. We know how to sound steady, how to stand up with confidence, how to offer hope and wisdom week after week. We pray, we preach, we lead, and we care. From the outside, life and ministry can look fruitful, even flourishing.

And yet.

There is that quiet question that rarely gets answered honestly: How are you, really?

Ministry is a joy and a privilege, of course. But it also brings a weight that is hard to articulate. Expectations that no one names but everyone feels. Emotional loads that accumulate like sediment. The pressure to be “on” even when the soul is tired. The fear that admitting weakness may shake trust. All the while the inner life can slowly dry out, even as the outward activity appears unchanged.

It is entirely possible to be busy and barren at the same time.

Tending the hidden roots

Most ministers don’t pause long enough to notice their own souls. There is always another need, another request, another crisis that demands attention. Reflection becomes something left for “a quieter season”, which always remains just a few weeks away - and never quite arrives. Sometimes we’re just scared of what we might find if we honestly looked.

Honesty before God has always been the beginning of renewal. The Psalms remind us that spiritual health grows where truthfulness is allowed to surface. God meets us in honesty far more readily than in pretence. Weariness, named before Him, can be the first step towards receiving rest.

With the above in mind, Living Leadership has created the Spiritual Health Survey, which asks the sorts of questions that help surface what otherwise remains unspoken: joy and fatigue, connection and isolation, rest and restlessness, the health of one’s walk with God. If you’re a minister or the spouse of one, can I gently encourage you to give this year’s survey a little time? You can complete it here: www.livingleadership.org/survey

Strong trees survive storms not because they look impressive, but because their roots are alive and tended. Do you need to tend yours?

(With thanks to Dan Steel and his tree!)