My Dear Shepherds,

Whenever I get to spend a day with a small group of pastors I begin by asking, “How is shepherding good for your soul and how is it hard on your soul?” How would you answer that?

Pastors enjoy some distinct soul advantages, among them “great assurance in [our] faith in Christ Jesus” (1 Tim. 3:13), a wide-angle view of God’s work among our people, and studying and preaching the Word. Plus, a lot of people pray for us.

But shepherding can take a toll on us as well. Just read Paul’s travails in 2 Corinthians. From my own experience, faith in the great gospel truths is not easily shaken but there are dry seasons when they gradually stir less confidence or joy. We may continue to pray but without a sense of intimacy. Sin grows increasingly seductive, and our inner firewall weakens. We dutifully serve our people but our love for them can sour with frustration and grudges. Jesus grows distant like a leader out in front, not someone who loves sitting with me.

Near the end of their first missionary journey Paul and Barnabas circled back to visit some of the churches they’d started,

… strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith … (Acts 14:22, ESV)

They specifically strengthened the souls of the disciples (these words are omitted in the NIV), which is the essential work we’re called to do for our flock. We are fortified with them by our life together—worship and Word, Communion, fellowship, and prayer. But what do we do in those seasons when our Christian life feels like “a dry and parched land where there is no water.”

Nothing is so bracing as a bath in God’s grace. We are prone to play Pharisee to our own weaknesses. We may not allow ourselves inadequacies and failures. Eventually gracelessness gunks up our souls till we can’t tell up from down. The remedy, whether we feel like it or not: run to Jesus who waits to bathe us in his Spirit.

Spiritual refreshing occasionally comes in some sudden shower of blessing, Christ’s healing through a song, prayer, or verse. But often, Christ’s grace comes as a slow bath. It starts with quiet, and this kind of quiet can’t be rushed. We can certainly quickstep boldly to and from the throne of grace when necessary but other times we need to settle for a while in the quiet till Jesus gains our full attention.

Then, stop doing business. Pray for help to rest. Turn stuff off. Set aside the work prayers. They’ll wait. Martha learned that all her duty-bound service got in Jesus’ way. Mary perceived that Jesus wanted to do the serving, so she found a seat at his feet. Jesus will not begrudge you time away from your pastoral work to let him feed and strengthen you.

He’s given us various ways to do that: pray Psalms or guided prayers like the Ignatian Examen, engage the help of a very perceptive friend or spiritual director, or read a slow, grace-rich book. The most common nourishment is Scripture. Don’t hurry. Instead of pages or paragraphs, try savoring just a line. Listen.

Confess what you must as the Spirit leads but not without looking up at our Savior. Then just be with Jesus in your own tent of meeting. Ask the Holy Spirit to sort through your mind’s clutter to bring his word to the fore. It won’t be condemnation nor another task to do. I’m almost certain he’ll give you some sweet, restorative gift of grace. After all, he’s been waiting for you.

Be ye glad!

Lee Eclov recently retired after 40 years of local pastoral ministry and now focuses on ministry among pastors. He writes a weekly devotional for preachers on Preaching Today.