It's true. Not every day. Not most days. But every now and then, I have days when I hate being a pastor.
I hate dealing with messy situations that I didn't create but I'm asked to resolve. I hate cleaning up my own messes created by my insensitivity or hyper-sensitivity. I hate running into people who think I've got it more together than I really do. I hate feeling the pressure to live an unbalanced life, to do things and be places I'd rather avoid, and to have the right answer for other people all the time.
Perhaps hate is too strong of a word. Today was just a tough day for me. I found myself battling emotions I haven't experienced in a long time. I found myself regretting the way I handled situations. I found myself snapping at people who don't deserve that kind of treatment (does any of us, really?). I found myself wanting to withdraw and avoid and ignore and diss.
Maybe I'm on edge because my mom gets to hear some test results Monday. She'll learn if the combo of chemo and prayer have done their work in overcoming her lymphoma cancer. I'm down here in Turlock to be with her when she gets the results in the morning. I guess I'm a bit nervous at what the doctor will say. And part of me -- the Pentecostal-Charismatic-Spiritfilled part of me -- feels some level of shame that I'm nervous.
Tonight I feel overwhelmed and underwhelmed and hyperwhelmed and angerwhelmed. I know those last two aren't really words, but I can't find the right words to explain what I'm feeling and experiencing and sensing.
I treated one of my student leaders poorly today. He and I spoke earlier, and I apologized. That felt good, to get it off my chest. We need to talk in greater depth this week, but the pastor in me wonders what I should share. When do I take off the "pastor" hat and become "Christ-follower"? Why do I feel this pressure to be more "complete" or "finished" simply because I'm a pastor? Sometimes showing my weaknesses allows me to draw closer to the people around me. And sometimes those revelations seem to become fodder and ammo in the hands of others.
Today is one of those days I hate being a pastor.