A title like this is probably a bit provocative.

People always love to know other people’s business, and I especially think they love to know the pastor’s business.  After over twenty years in ministry with my pastor husband, I get it.  People like to know what makes him tick and what makes him different from the rest of us.  And the pastor’s family is along for the ride.

But the reality is that pastors, or pastor’s wives, aren’t different.  We have good days.  But there are the bad days where we hit a wall.  Days where we find ourselves in a crisis of faith.  And sometimes when they come, they come with a fierce fire.

There is no “get through life trouble-free” pass for pastors.  We have to climb out of spiritual pits.  We have to walk in the darkness of depression.  We have to serve and pour out our lives daily while we sometimes live in physical, emotional, or our own private, spiritual pain.

No need to feel sorry for me, I love what I do and I can’t imagine my life doing anything else, but every now and then I like to step back and evaluate what I’m spending my life on.

Some may argue that a minister of the gospel shouldn’t minister if they are struggling.  Let me clarify that if this is a chronic sin issue, I agree.  Jesus was clear that if you wanted to follow Him, you need to die to yourself, to your sin, and even to your aspirations, in lieu of His desires.  This is true for all followers of Christ, not just pastors.

But my crisis of faith has nothing to do with Jesus.  I’m following Him until my last breath.  I believe every word He spoke and I’ve committed my life to live out those words.

My crisis of faith has to do with humanity—including myself.  I think too many pastors struggle silently with their own crisis of faith in humanity as we watch people struggle, self-destruct, beat each other up, or block their ears to the truth.

Can a minister of the gospel have a crisis of faith?

If it is a faith to believe people can change, yes.

Because after watching so many people not change, you will always be forced to pull yourself up and reset your faith as you minister to the next person.

If it is faith to believe anyone really cares to listen anymore, yes.

Because when you’ve poured your heart and soul out in preaching the truth of God’s Word to the masses, and the masses still ask for more without acting on the last sermon, you will always need to reach in to God’s tank of unending love to find the strength to speak again.

If it is faith to believe that all your working and all your laying down of your family for others has really made a difference in this God-resistant world, yes.

Because on those days, you must find the courage to keep going, regardless of what you see or what you feel.  The cold, hard slap of truth is that this is where the character of your faith is forged:  when you can’t see it anymore and still you must choose to believe.

If it is faith to believe your prayers actually matter, yes.

Because sometimes you’re tired of the answers you’ve received.  You’ve held someone you love as she took her last breath and she was gone and you are left with that cold, lifeless reality reminding you that sometimes His answer is “no.”  After disappointment, you will always be forced to find the courage to ask again; still believing it matters.

If it is faith to believe this gospel is really the reality’s truth, yes.

Because it is here, on the threshing floor of your spirit, that doubt in humanity is wrestled back into silence by truth and conviction in Christ so the passion of that preaching heart grows louder, stronger, and more convinced forever of the truth of its song.

Yes, perhaps the real crisis is that our faith is ever placed in humanity at all because here disillusionment sets in, for our faith was meant only to be found in God.

“But Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all men.  He did not need man’s testimony about man, for he knew what was in a man.” (John 2:24-25)

Jesus was never surprised by people.  Yet it didn’t make Him cynical, it didn’t disillusion Him, and it didn’t make Him quit.  He merely held confidence in what the grace of God could do for anyone who was willing.

A crisis is defined as a sequence of events at which the trend of all future events, especially for better or for worse, is determined; a turning point. (dictionary.com)

The turning point of this crisis must be in letting these challenges compel us to place our faith in God alone, in His grace, and in His unending goodness and love for humanity—whether they are willing is His problem.

It is really the same for all of us, pastors or not.  “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith…” (Heb. 12:2)

So I’m waiting on Jesus as He reminds me that He still offers people grace to change.

I’m waiting on Him as He reminds me there are still many who are listening, but more importantly, they are watching and praying that we won’t quit when the going of this faith gets hard and we feel as though we can’t go on.

I’m waiting on Him as He reminds me that He sees every sacrifice; every laying down of our own dreams for His dreams.  He will reward it and we are really making a difference no matter what the murmurings of the enemy tell us.

I’m waiting on Him as He reminds me that He ultimately will heal all sickness and disease and that this life is not the final word on the subject of answered prayers.

Here in the fire of the waiting, He is forging our faith.  Here in this place, we wait—for better or worse—looking forward to Him, who is Faithful and True, to fulfill all future events as He determines, ultimately and forever, and this will be the turning point where faith will be our sight.