A Sad, Glad Man

When Victoria was just learning to read, I bought her a book entitled "One Sad, Glad Man," about a sad, lonely man who kept accumulating pets, two of one kind, three of another, until his home was filled with pets and happiness. For all I know, that book might have influenced Victoria's lifelong love of animals.

This particular book came to mind recently when I was thinking of a pastor I knew, years ago. He was really the first pastor I knew well, because I sat in his office, along with eleven other eighth graders, every Saturday morning for almost a year, as we prepared for confirmation. He was the Lutheran pastor who confirmed me and, a few years later, he married Bill and me.

It was a sad story that led Pastor B and his family to move to Fairbury, all the way from Hawaii. You see, his wife had recently died of cancer, leaving him to raise their four young children, who ranged in age from two to about twelve. Pastor B's sister, Dorothy, had been working in Hawaii, too, as the principal of a Lutheran school, but she gave up her life in Hawaii to move back to their native Nebraska with her brother, to manage his busy household and help him raise his kids.

Pastor B had some good stories to tell during our Saturday confirmation classes, and he knew the Bible very well. He was an excellent preacher, too, who gave interesting sermons, Sunday after Sunday. I am convinced that Pastor B knew Jesus as his Lord and Savior. But, I also know that he struggled terribly with his grief and, as a result, his personal life suffered greatly. As I look back, I see a lonely pastor who was truly a sad, glad man.

At that time, and in that particular place, pastors were not encouraged to socialize with their parishioners outside of church-sanctioned activities. Unfortunately, most of those sanctioned activities were meant for women or married couples. So, a new pastor with several children, especially a widower in an unfamiliar town, had a hard time making friends.

Pastor B was criticized for joining the country club, but I think that's where he met the woman he was so excited to tell Bill and me about, when we met with him to plan our wedding. He was all smiles when he told us that he was getting married again! When I mentioned it to Mom, later that day, she knew nothing about Pastor's engagement. And, for some reason, that wedding never happened.

I was totally unaware of Pastor B's drinking problem until a friend, whose dad was an elder, mentioned that the elders had been trying hard to figure out how to deal with the situation. It wasn't something that was ever discussed openly. I doubt if many of the adults in the church even knew about it.

The church hired a series of DCEs (Directors of Christian Education) and vicars (pastoral interns) to help minister to the people, but other than that, I don't know exactly what the elders decided to do. I'm glad that Pastor B wasn't forced to resign. He remained at that church until he died, I think of a heart attack, long before all of his children were grown, leaving their Aunt Dorothy to finish raising the kids--admirably well, I might add.

When I think of Pastor B, I remember a man who was often jovial. But, his drinking was a hidden red flag that pointed to his inability to manage his grief. Unfortunately, he didn't have the support system he needed in a new congregation, in a new community. If he ever attended rehab, it was so hush-hush that I never heard about it.

When I taught in a Lutheran school in Michigan, a few years later, the pastor there was aghast when I mentioned to him, privately, that the pastor who confirmed me and officiated at my wedding was an alcoholic. His opinion was that I shouldn't even have mentioned such a thing, even though it was pertinent to our private conversation. Things like that were always swept under the carpet, much like the Roman Catholic Church handled the problem of priests who abused altar boys.

So, I've come to the conclusion that pastors should never be placed up on pedestals, as if they are holier than the people they serve. Pastors are imperfect people, too, who need the support and encouragement of the people in their congregations. They need friends. They need our prayers. And sometimes, they need real help. Some might need counselling or, even, rehab. Pastors, too, need to be reminded that God loves them and understands their struggles, and offers his forgiveness and help when they need it.

My current pastor mentioned that this month of October is often the hardest month for pastors. Pastor Gary doesn't know why, and neither do I, but he speculated that it might be the reason someone decided to designate October as Pastor Appreciation Month. So, you have one last Sunday, this month, to thank your pastor for everything he does.

It's not an easy job. A pastor does so much more than lead worship or preach a sermon on Sunday mornings. Most pastors do a lot of counselling, teach some classes, work with children and youth, visit the sick, distribute food and aid to the destitute, attend a lot of meetings, organize events, prepare for worship services and weddings and unexpected funerals. Some, like Pastor Gary, respond to middle-of-the night calls of desperation, show up to help families move, and drive for several hours to offer support and prayers for traumatized people in far-away hospitals. Others, like Pastor Joe, willingly stay up all night for strenuous youth retreats, provide high-interest, high-energy activities to keep kids coming to youth activities, and strive to keep teens engaged in God's Word.

So, Pastor Gary and Pastor Joe, this blog is dedicated to you, with thanks for all of your hard work and dedicated service to the God who loves us. You are appreciated for everything you do. Thanks!

(And may all your days be glad days, at least most of the time.)

“And I will give you shepherds after my own heart,
who will feed you with knowledge and understanding.
Jeremiah 3:15