I HATE HARRY CHAPIN’S popular folk tune of the mid-seventies, “Cat’s in the Cradle.” In case you are not familiar with it, it is about a father who reflects on how when his son was small he never took time to play with him because he was too busy. Well, the son grows up and because of his job and family he does not have time for his father. The grown son ends a phone call with: “It’s sure been nice talking to you.” The father realizes then that his son has become just like he was.
The message is poignant: what goes around comes around. If we are too busy for our kids while they are young, someday they will be too busy for us. And that is why I hate the song. Perhaps I feel a little guilty, now that my daughters are grown. Many pastors struggle to spend adequate time with their children. Although we have always known that our family needed to be a priority, the consequences always seemed so far away. But not so at mid-life.
I have a friend who feels so guilty about the time he missed with his children when they were small that now he is overcompensating. His well-intentioned penance is creating tension in the family. By attempting to be their buddy, he has relinquished his role as their middle-aged father. One of his children told me that his father wants so much time with him when he comes home that he dreads coming. They are in college, they have their own lives, and their response to him is something like, “Face it, Dad, we’re too old to play catch in the yard. We’re adults now.”
No matter how hard we try, we cannot make up for the amount of time we did not spend with our children. That can be difficult to accept. Our generation has probably preached more on the subject of family than the two generations of preachers before us combined. And, frankly, most of us have likely preached far better messages on the subject of family than we have lived. At least that is true of me.
My greatest regret is not that I wasn’t at home enough. My greatest regret is that when I was at home I was not at home. I was not emotionally available for my family. I did not connect with them. Even though I left the office and came home, I rarely left the church mentally. In that sense, I was not present for my children. Shortly after we had moved to a new church, I was working diligently to help revitalize an aging church by starting some innovative programs. The result was little time at home and emotional disconnectedness with my kids even when I was home.
“Dad, is this church too big for you?” one of my daughters asked. Her question both angered and threatened me, as if she were questioning my competence, but I knew what she was really saying was, “My life is hurting as a result of your having this church.”
A few minutes later I sat down with her and said, “I don’t know. It could be too big.”
When I asked her why she asked the question, she said, “You’re never at home. And when you are, you’re always in such a bad mood.”
Another time, a key family decision was made without me. I asked my wife why I had not been consulted. “You’re never home enough to ask,” she said. After I explained to her why I had been so busy at church and recited from memory three pages from my Day-Timer, she said, “To be honest, I didn’t know if you would even be interested in this issue.” And she was right. I probably wasn’t. But my feelings were hurt because I was not asked.
Mid-life naturally brings some regret: about career, about past choices, about family. But at some point we must begin to live in the present. We cannot rewind the clock. We are here, at this time, at this moment, and no matter what type of parent or spouse we have been up to this point, our family needs us now. Just as pastors need to reinvent their approach to work at middle age, we may need to reinvent our approach to family.
No longer needed
When we reach mid-life, our children are either teenagers or grown adults who do not need us in the same way as they did when they were younger; our relationship with them has changed or is changing. Spouses who stayed home during the nesting years return to careers or develop interests that may or may not be related to the church. That can bring a new set of issues for the mid-life pastor: with the current emphasis on family in the Christian community, churches like having a pastor who has children living at home. Although most search committees and church boards would probably not admit it, there may even be a bias against childless couples and empty-nest couples. A pastor with a spouse and children at home makes the church appear to be a family church. The pastor’s family often becomes the projected self-image of the church. What is ironic is that churches want a pastor with a big family at home but want him to work as if he had taken the vow of celibacy.
But we cannot blame the church entirely for the pressures. Often the blame lies deep within the soul of the pastor who is motivated by insecurity and guilt rather than by his call and by grace. The same issues that keep us from being good family members in our early years can keep us from being good family members in our middle years. Although impossible to start over, mid-course corrections are possible. Time demands placed on us by our children are less, and though this can be emotionally difficult to handle, it can also be the opportunity for a new beginning.
There may be, however, at least one unique issue for pastors to face at mid-life. Many of us thrive on being needed. If your self-worth gauge hits the full mark only when you are told, “We don’t know how we could make it without you,” you will have difficulty when your children or spouse become more independent. Some deal with this by assuming the role of the “father of the church,” which usually means becoming over-involved at church.
I know a man who is on staff at a large church. When his last child graduated from high school, the congregation became concerned that he was spending so much time at work that, ironically, he was getting in the way of the work of the church. This pastor had struggled with many of the typical parenting issues as a young father but had made some adjustments and improved his relationship with his children. During this stage he also became a better minister and church employee because he had learned to delegate and empower others to do their ministry. Nevertheless, after his children left home he began to use his extra time to micro-manage his responsibilities at church, effectively keeping others from their work. His wife’s career was also blossoming, and he felt unneeded. Rather than adapt to the changes, he shifted the focus of his parenting skills to the church and, arguably, attempted to father the church.
He never seemed to get down to the real issue at work in his soul: his need to be needed by others in order to have a sense of his own worth and value. Instead of pouring himself into the church, it would have been more beneficial to all if he would have taken the “lonely road” and begun the hard work of reflecting on his motivations.
Other pastors may tend to back away from their grown children at mid-life, declaring in effect that their role as a parent is over. That rationale may be an attempt to avoid the guilt of past failures. Others may be so intent on being free from parental responsibilities that they abdicate the role.
I meet occasionally with the adult children of a minister, and once they asked me how to go about rebuilding a relationship with their father. Although he had been an adequate father during their years at home, he was now acting as though his children were adults but not his adult children. He had essentially severed his emotional ties with them. He told them, “I haven’t done anything wrong; you are adults. If we are close that is fine, if we are not close that is also fine.” His children resented the fact that he seemed happier at the moment than at any time in their lives.
In less than two years he resigned his church, telling the congregation he was too tired to care anymore, that he was wrung out from ministry. That event, coupled with how he had responded to his children, indicated to me an issue of the soul.
I cannot speculate about the noise level inside his head, but with the advent of mid-life, I personally had to face the painful truth that as a parent of adult children, I am a mere mortal. The simple equation that young people have children at home and I do not have children at home, therefore I am not young anymore, is enough to cause a dark night of the soul.
From coach to cheerleader
Where do we go with these feelings? How can we redefine our roles as parent and spouse?
My wife and I were in a somber, reflective mood driving to our daughter’s college graduation. It was a bittersweet time for us. I began reflecting on how poor a father I had been and how I wished I could take back those lost years. My wife had some regrets, too, but she pointed out that if we kept up the melancholy conversation, neither of us would be able to enjoy this special occasion in our daughter’s life.
My wife helped me to see that we still have some significant contributions to make in the lives of our three adult daughters. That is, we are still their parents; we have a role to fill. God willing, I have another twenty years or more to be their father. It will not be the same role but it can be just as satisfying.
For example, I can be a sounding board for them as they make choices about college, careers, and marriage. But I am learning that my new role is not so much a coach as it is a cheerleader. The coaching role of a younger father hopefully prepares his children to coach themselves as they mature. One key step in making this transition is to move from being someone who gives advice to someone who asks questions. Recently my youngest daughter changed her major at college. We had a wonderful conversation about this change. I resisted the temptation to probe her for information only for my benefit, such as “How many more years of college will this mean?” Instead, I asked questions that helped her to see the implications of her options—and I was able to listen to her feelings. I sensed she was not asking for my approval so much as my blessing. To give our blessing is to honor the decisions of our adult children. They have listened to our lectures on life for many years. Now it is time for them to make choices and live with the consequences. They need to coach themselves, and I need to be their cheerleader.
I am also trying to rethink my role with my wife. Since our kids have grown, Alta Faye has been redefining herself and her role in the family. In the ministry, the wife of a pastor is viewed as the minister’s wife, the mother of his children, the church’s servant, and co-laborer with her husband. Although our spouses fill these roles, it is easy to ignore the most important truth about them: they are individuals. It was a major transition in our marriage when I saw my wife redefine her life. She took motherhood very seriously, and I was concerned that when the kids moved out she might struggle to find her identity. My worries were unfounded.
She has never felt that teaching the Bible is one of her spiritual gifts, but she recently decided to participate in the leadership of our Wednesday and Sunday teaching ministries. She saw a need and decided to explore her gifts. And though I never thought of my wife as a civic-minded person, she has begun to pursue civic and community activities. She has also begun to mentor some of the young mothers in our church.
In short, she has not waited for someone to redefine her role or to prod her in that direction. Rather, she has quietly taken the initiative. Lyle Schaller, a prolific writer and church consultant, once said, “If you ask a church who are the most competent people within the body, the list will be made up of women in their fifties.”
Although I do not understand all the reasons for it, mid-life appears to be a wonderful occasion for women to realize their dreams. Certainly one reason is that they now have the time and energy to pursue new avenues. We need to release them for that adventure. It is sometimes said that such-and-such a pastor would be a better minister if his wife were more supportive. It works both ways. The pastor’s wife may be a better Christian if her husband is more supportive of her. The willingness to support our wives in their dreams is one of the keys to success and happiness at mid-life.
A friend in the ministry recently confided to me the effect of his wife’s volunteer work in their church. Although she does not teach or assume a role of leadership, her career has assumed various roles as a volunteer. My friend admitted that earlier in his ministry he somewhat resented his wife’s work in the church. Now at mid-life he has come to see it as valid as his own. He even feels that her work may have affected more people for the sake of the kingdom than his paid duties as a church staff member.
Recently a psychologist told me that young pastors and young coaches have much in common. Both are intent on winning and both often carry the competitive spirit home. Wives of coaches and wives of ministers often sit in the stands or the pews and watch their husbands perform and then listen to the remarks of the fans or the congregation. Mid-life is the time for a reversal of that scenario.
A time to heal
Some ministers and their spouses have endured great amounts of pain because of the behavior of their children—wandering prodigals who have made wrong choices and maybe even estranged themselves from their families. When these ministry families hit the half-century mark in age, they often want to quit, believing they are unworthy to continue in the ministry.
I have a colleague whose children made unhealthy lifestyle choices, and this pastor and his wife have for several years carried the heavy burden of guilt: “If only we had done this or that differently. …” But he came to realize that he was not responsible for his children’s conduct. His responsibility was to teach them when they were young. With the help of some friends and a mental-health professional, he was able to admit that although he and his wife had not been perfect parents, they had not been bad parents. Many of us knew they had provided a solid foundation for their children—upon which their children had simply decided not to build. Rather than beat himself up emotionally, he chose to place the ultimate responsibility on the shoulders of his children.
By the same token, many of us whose children have brought us joy must be careful not to congratulate ourselves for the actions of our offspring. The first step toward a healthy attitude about family is to realize that we are only responsible for what we put into our children, not for how they turn out. Perhaps this concept is easier to accept and apply when it relates to the church family. A minister can proclaim the gospel clearly, serve with integrity, care for his people with genuine love—and still see spiritual or moral failure in his or her church. The minister cannot accept responsibility for the personal failures of his congregation. The apostle Paul was not the reason for the problems at the church at Corinth, even though he was its founding pastor. Paul invested in the church at Corinth, and despite all his efforts it was a divided church, there was immorality, and there was abuse of the Lord’s Supper.
But Paul did not walk away from the church wringing his hands and saying, “Where did I go wrong?” Instead of writing a letter detailing his failures, he addressed their issues.
I am not trying to excuse poor parenting. I am merely pointing out that bad things can happen to good parents. The first step toward healing in a family is forgiveness. Loving parents must forgive children who have failed. And parents who feel they have failed must come to the place over time where they can receive forgiveness from their heavenly Father. Some parents are so wounded by the behavior of their children that they neglect to work on what they are responsible for: their relationship with the heavenly Father.
A friend who made some tragic moral choices that hurt his family and resulted in the loss of his position in a large Christian organization was asked to speak to a group of younger ministers in a retreat setting. In his address he said, “Some of you are probably questioning whether I ought to be here speaking to you, as well as wondering how I can live with myself knowing the hurt I have caused my family. The answer to those concerns is found in the sermons you preach each week: it is grace! What keeps me sane is knowing that even though I am responsible for a great amount of hurt, God still loves me. The major difference between the fellow that once climbed the ministerial ladder and myself is that now I know God loves me because of grace. Much of my ministry I preached grace but really believed God loved me because I was good.”
We can’t go back. There are no second chances. It seems obvious, but it is the only point at which we can make marriage and family all that it was meant to be in the second half of life. We can celebrate the family we have and determine to mend the hurts and rebuild. Mid-life is not beginning again, but rather a time for adjustment. We will never be able to make up for the nights we should have been home or for the times we were home but our hearts and minds were at the church.
Our families still need us, even though they do not need the father or mother they should have had twenty years ago. Our spouses need us more than ever, but they do not need us to be the partners we weren’t twenty years ago. An older minister once told me, “When you are young in the ministry, you find joy when your members do right. When you grow older, you find joy when your members find grace.”
The middle adult years are good when we discover grace for our families and grace for ourselves.
Copyright © 1998 Gary Fenton
