I am a local pastor, I always have been, and I suspect that I always will be. A well-known pastor, bishop of a historic church, saw that I signed my emails with a plus sign (+) in front of my name. He rebuked me asking why I signed my emails with the sign of the cross if I was not a bishop. I simply said, “I am a bishop, the bishop of my city.”
I have pastored a community in Central Florida for over 15 years and when I speak of my city I call it “the capital of the world”. People laugh and think I'm kidding, but I call it that because my micro-world revolves around my community of about 80,000 people. Everything about my city matters to me. I can attend a wedding, a funeral or a quinceañera the same day. I have lived to the fullest in my city for over a decade and a half because this is where God called me to serve Him. Here I have invested my best energies. Here I have spent the best years of my youth. And above all, this is the place where I survived pastoral exhaustion — the famous silent killer of the Christian ministry.
Two and a half years after starting to shepherd —when the honeymoon had already ended with the congregation — I began to feel the pressures of growing the congregation. It was not long before I was carried away with an impossible agenda, with more than 10 hours a day of work, under strong criticism of the leadership–and with this came pastoral exhaustion. That feeling of loneliness, lack of purpose and ministerial depression where all you think is, How long will I be able to endure? Then I had to reinvent myself—I had a new encounter with God and with myself and I learned the following things.
Shepherding is not just talking about God; it is living with God
There is a big difference between being a preacher of the Word and being a word sermon. I was a good “sermon maker,” the public figure who appeared behind the pulpit with good motivational phrases and teachings taken from the Bible. But deep inside I could not fool myself. It did not take me long to realize that the Christian ministry is not about the God I preach about, but about the God with whom I live. That is why I believe that the cultivation of spiritual disciplines is a component that cannot be replaced by anything in the ministry. No workshop, no pastors' conference, book, or seminary program can do more than devoting time in that secret place of daily devotional life. Sit quietly, read the word, talk to God, and above all practice silence so you can hear his voice. Only he can sustain those he called to a task, which to human eyes, seems impossible to fulfill.
Shepherding is not a solitary task; it is to be done in the company of friends
I could not have celebrated 15 years of ministry without the help of my friends. For more than a decade, I understood that it was necessary for me to share with others who were going through the same battles I faced. Then I added to my routine on Monday, a typical day of pastoral rest, to call a circle of about three to five pastoral friends to ask the simple question: “How did Sunday go?” Each conversation confirmed a hopeful fact. I was not the only one who was disappointed, turned off, frustrated, hurt … or also, euphoric, happy, hopeful, and determined. When it was not them sharing these experiences, it was me. But the mere fact of having someone to talk to on the same terms was a healing experience. I did not settle for these calls alone, I also belong to a Pastoral Care Group of my own denomination where we meet monthly to eat, talk, and learn together.
Shepherding is not only about pastoring others; it is also being pastored
You do not need to give the appearance of perfection all the time. Vulnerability is a beautiful tool of evangelization. The model of “all-powerful” pastor is not something that lasts long. In a long-term ministry, you will understand that the strength of your testimony is not only to remember the moment of your conversion but to show exactly how many times you have gone through tribulations and overcome only by the grace of God. There is a conversion, but there are certainly many resurrections. I learned to preach and celebrate my resurrections. And for that, I have to be vulnerable, transparent to my community of faith. Shepherding is also allowing the members of our congregations to shepherd us. They know me as I am, and they have learned to love my victories and to understand my failures.
Shepherding is not reaching numerical goals; it is persevering
I learned to resist the model of being evaluated only by the number of attendees, new members, baptisms, or conversions I had in the church. The expectations that others have of what we can achieve become starving monsters impossible to feed; we end up swallowing ourselves. Then I learned to enjoy people, not to see those around me as a product of my work but as a divine gift. I began to enjoy those who were there at that moment — because I did not know if they would continue to be. In the time in which we live of so much movement, members move and families leave for one reason or another. Sometimes the leaders themselves abandon you. But I decided to stay. I was to be the pastor not only of a church but of a community.
15 years later I can say, I am a survivor of pastoral exhaustion. I continue to respond to my call. I have love and passion for ministry. I still believe that it is the most beautiful work and the most sublime call that can be entrusted to vulnerable people, like me.
Rev. Rubén N. Ortiz is the Latino Field Coordinator for the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF). Ortiz studied Music, Communications, Theology and Spiritual Direction. Has been the Senior Pastor of First Hispanic Baptist Church in Deltona, FL for the last 15 years. He is married to Rev. Xiomara Reboyras-Ortiz and enjoys spending time and experiencing life with his two young children, Natalia Sofía and Daniel Andrés.
