Interested in the world of professional Christian ministry? Would you like to better understand the unique struggles of clergy? Do you assume that religious leaders naturally have an advantage in spiritual growth? Would it surprise you to discover that a life devoted to helping others does not automatically lead to personal blessing and inner peace?

In Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith, Barbara Brown Taylor describes the unique peaks and valleys of ecclesiastical service. Even more importantly, she reveals that Christian ministry possesses its own unique pitfalls that are not easily navigated. Indeed, one’s own success can lead to one’s downfall. Her ministry is proof of this.

“Professional” Ministry Years

Before Barbara recounts her life story, she begins by warning her readers about the surprising nature of the journey ahead:

This is not the life I planned or the life I recommend to others. But it is the life that has turned out to be mine, and the central revelation in it for me – that the call to serve God is first and last the call to be fully human – seems important enough to witness to on paper. This book is my attempt to do that. (xi)

A self-proclaimed “ecclesiastical harlot,” Barbara describes her experience growing up in Catholic, Methodist, Baptist, and Presbyterian churches. When it came time to settle in one church, she chose the Episcopal Church, where she served as a minister for over 20 years.

In her first church, she served as an Associate Pastor in an urban setting. The church held two Sunday morning services in an auditorium that seated 450 people. Exhausted after many years of faithful service, Barbara looked forward to moving to a rural church that seated, at best, 85 people. Her hope was that the new setting would provide her with an opportunity to find her soul again – something she had lost in the flurry of constant Christian service.

Unfortunately, the peace she sought could not be found. Instead, she found herself in the same hectic cycle of the unending demands of a job that is never quite finished. “I had once again become so busy caring for the household of God that I neglected the One who had called me there. If I still had plenty of energy for the work, that was because feeding others was still my food. As long as I fed them, I did not feel my hunger pains” (75).

Because feeding others was her food, she could lose herself in her work and not notice her soul’s impoverishment. But this eventually caught up with her:

In spite of my best intentions, I had dug myself back into the same hole that I had left All Saints’ to escape. My tiredness was so deep that it had seeped into my bones. I was out more nights than I was home. No matter how many new day planners I bought, none of them told me when I had done enough. If I spent enough time at the nursing home then I neglected to return telephone calls, and if I put enough thought into the vestry meeting then I was less likely to catch mistakes in the Sunday bulletin. As soon as I managed to convince myself that these were not cardinal sins, one of them would result in an oversight that caused a parishioner’s meltdown. (98)

Done in by success, “compassion fatigue” (102) got the best of her. She had expected to serve her congregation at least ten years; she made it only 5 ½ years (126). “My quest to serve God in the church had exhausted my spiritual savings. My dedication to being good had cost me a fortune in being whole” (127).

A New Beginning

Two things saved Barbara’s life: (1) leaving professional ministry and (2) learning to observe a Sabbath rest. Both were difficult transitions for her.

Initially, it was difficult for Barbara to attend church. For the first time in years, her perspective was that of a parishioner rather than pastor. This was a hard adjustment to make: “You’re used to being in the play. Now you’re watching the play. Welcome to the audience” (159).

Her discovery of a Sabbath rest brought her newfound refreshment. It is nearly impossible for a professional clergy person to truly experience a Sabbath rest. The work of ministry is never-ending – there are always new tasks, new challenges, and new possibilities. Add to this the fact that ministry is never “done” in any tangible sense, and the frustrations mount to unmanageable levels. This is why I found her discovery of the Sabbath so refreshing. Listen to her describe it:

Sabbath is written into the ancient covenant with God. Remember the Sabbath, the rabbis say, and you fulfill the Torah. Stop for one whole day every week, and you will remember what it means to be created in the image of God, who rested on the seventh day not from weariness but from complete freedom. The clear promise is that those who rest like God find themselves free like God, no longer slaves to the thousand compulsions that send others rushing toward their graves. (136)

She describes her practice: “One day each week I live as if all my work were done. I live as if the kingdom has come, and when I do the kingdom comes, for one day at least” (228). I wonder how her ministry would have been different if she had discovered this rest prior to quitting. Or perhaps, it was only when the pressures of ministry were removed that she finally had freedom to pursue God at a “human” rather than “dehumanizing” pace. Either way, I hope I can learn this discipline.

Barbara honestly admits that “becoming a professional holy person” almost killed her (226). Freed from the demands of paid ministry she now encounters God in other people with newfound joy and passion: “Encountering God in other people is saving my life now” (228).

In ministry she was unwilling to fall. Her ministry possessed her, and in the process, overwhelmed her. She could not trust God to carry her if she failed. She now admits that an “an unwillingness to fall…. signals mistrust of the central truth of the Christian gospel: life springs from death, not only at the last but also in the many little deaths along the way” (218).

Barbara was told in seminary that “being ordained is not about serving God perfectly but about serving God visibly, allowing other people to learn whatever they can from watching you rise and fall” (37). Her example has taught me many things. I am grateful that she wrote of her joys and sorrows, her successes and her failures. I hope I can learn from her example and become “fully human” in the context of professional ministry without losing my soul.

Quotes excerpted from Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith by Barbara Brown Taylor
© Richard J. Vincent, 2006