I was the only Seventh-day Adventist in my family. Halfway through engineering college, I took Bible studies. I chose not only to become an Adventist but also to switch careers and become a pastor. What is the point of building bridges when there are so many souls to save? I thought to myself.
Transferring to an Adventist college, I graduated with a theology degree. From there I entered the seminary and earned a master of divinity. For the next 10 years, I pastored churches in Massachusetts and Maine.
Something was wrong
As I entered my eleventh year, I could no longer ignore the fact that something was terribly wrong with me physically. The symptoms that had been accumulating over many months were becoming more and more alarming—severe headaches, nausea, diarrhea, rectal bleeding, weight loss, exhaustion, and mood swings. My family physician explored a variety of possibilities, sending me to undergo a range of tests and scans.
The results of the tests were always the same: negative. I grew desperate for someone to find something. What was happening to me? There had to be a cause.
Finally, no reasonable tests remained that could explain my symptoms. My doctor called me in and said, “Mr. Johnson, we have concluded that the root cause of all your physical problems is simply severe ongoing stress. I strongly urge that you change careers. Otherwise, you’ll be slowly killing yourself.”
What to do
I walked out of that appointment in shock. At thirty-five years old, what do you do for work when all you have been trained to do is be a pastor? How on earth would I make a living? How would I support my family? Above all, I truly believed that God had called me into the ministry. What had changed? A sense of foreboding engulfed me.
Is this what pastoral burnout felt like? After all those years of theological training, after 10 years of pastoring, how had it come to this?
Returning home, I told my wife, and we wept together.
After counseling with a handful of people I greatly respected, my wife and I made the hard decision that I needed to exit pastoral ministry. Feeling my health slipping away further, I realized that my first responsibility was to put the brakes on my descent. We had a little savings, and my wife worked part-time, so we would not be homeless, at least not right away.
Sharing the news
The first step was to inform the conference president. After forcing myself to pick up the telephone receiver (before cell phones), I put it to my ear and then immediately placed it back in its cradle. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead. I sat back, took a few deep breaths, and decided to try again another time.
A week later, I tried again. This time, I dialed and hung up after the first ring. So much was riding on this call. It felt as if I were going to jump into a black, unknown abyss.
Three more days passed. By then, I felt a strong internal pressure to follow through, so I dialed and anxiously let it continue ringing. Each ring was like a distinct drumbeat. As I pressed the receiver against my ear, I could feel it shaking in my hand.
“Hello,” the president’s familiar voice answered.
My voice cracked as I simply asked if I could come over and see him regarding something important. He readily agreed.
Two days later, I pulled my car into his driveway, shuffled to the front door, and, with my head down, knocked. Never in my life had I quit anything. I hoped I would not cry. The previous night, I had rehearsed what to say again and again, trying to get it to stick in my head, but my thoughts remained a hopeless jumble.
The door swung open, and there stood this unsuspecting conference president. “Come in,” he said in a warm, welcoming tone.
Although I do not remember the exact conversation, I do clearly remember his empathy and surprise. He leaned forward and listened intently.
“I’m really not well,” I began and recounted my symptoms. “The doctors tell me it’s nothing but stress. It’s been building for years. According to my physician, I don’t really have any other choice but to leave pastoring. I’ve probably stayed in too long as it is.”
“I’m so sorry,” he replied. “I understand. I’d urge you to stay, but I agree that the main thing is certainly your health. We’ll be very sad to lose you from the pastoral staff.”
Then he asked the big, looming question, “What will you do for a living?”
“I wish I knew,” I answered honestly.
The president glanced away, and I could tell he was pondering something.
Hope in the darkness
Eventually, he turned back, looked at me intently, and said, “You know, I think I have an idea. For some time now, I’ve wanted someone to create a directory with maps of how to get to all of the churches and schools in our conference. Visiting preachers and departmental leaders are always getting lost. Is that something you’d be interested in researching and creating? We could keep you on for several months to help your transition. Would that interest you?”
Stunned, I thought, Would that interest me? Are you kidding? I immediately imagined a shaft of light piercing the darkness. Hope stirred for the first time in weeks. Fighting back tears, I quickly replied. “I . . . I would be so very grateful, sir.”
A month later, I preached my last pastoral sermon. The following Monday, I reported to work at the conference office, clutching my little brown-bag lunch. The staff found a small empty office for me to work in. It was heaven. Within weeks, my health markedly improved.
Well aware that the president’s assignment would not last forever, I created my resumé. I stayed after work many evenings to send it out to Seventh-day Adventist conferences and schools across the United States, asking for nonpastoral employment. I never got a reply.
An excellent fit
As my work for the president neared its end, my anxiety began to return. I visited with him, asking if there was any other way I might help while I kept looking for steady employment. He referred me to the conference treasurer. When I approached him, the treasurer told me that they did, in fact, need someone for a while to assist with local church and school audits. After a little training, I launched into my new temporary career. I loved it! I enjoyed the detail, and the numbers did not create internal conflict or leave me worn out.
With that hint regarding a potential new career path, I took an aptitude test, and accounting topped the list. Based on that result, I started taking accounting classes at night. The course material proved to be an excellent fit.
As I did my auditing in an office suite with the two associate treasurers, I would dream of having that kind of job someday, but my suitemates were not going anywhere anytime soon. As I heard them both state how much they loved Maine and could not imagine working anywhere else, I could almost hear that door of opportunity slam shut.
Four months later, however, something happened that still makes my heart beat faster. I overheard one associate treasurer exclaim, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve decided to move to California.” I couldn’t believe it!
After he made the official announcement, I ran down to the treasurer’s office and told him, “I know I’m a long shot, but I’d like to put my name in for the opening.” My wife and I prayed like crazy.
The conference committee met a month later with that position on the agenda. I sat by the phone, not knowing what to expect. At about eight o’clock that evening, the phone rang. It was the treasurer.
“I’m sorry to call so late,” he said, “but I wanted to let you know—you got the job. Welcome to the office! I’m looking forward to working with you. Come and see me tomorrow morning to discuss the details.”
My wife and I hugged. Tears flowed. Neighbors could hear my shout of joy all the way to the end of the block.
Reflection on the journey
When I visited with the treasurer the next day, he told me, “The Lord must really have been watching out for you! Your timing could not have been better. We chose you because you are already taking accounting courses. And we have also had a chance to observe your work as an auditor, and you’ve been doing a great job. Welcome to the treasury team!”
He then added, “If you hadn’t left pastoring when you did, none of this would have worked.”
Since then, I have taken time to reflect more fully on my journey and come to some conclusions:
- When I chose to become a pastor, I did not really understand the teaching in 1 Peter 2:9 called the “priesthood of all believers.” According to the apostle, every Christian is a lay minister, and God needs people in many different careers to be salt in society and touch the lives of people whom a pastor would never meet. One career is not more important to God than another. Jesus worked for about 20 years as a master builder.
- For followers of Christ, there are no sacred jobs versus secular jobs. Everything they do is sacred (1 Cor. 10:31). Biblically speaking, the only separation between sacred and secular is between those who accept Christ and those who do not.
- Three types of calls in Scripture apply to all Christians:
- The call to have a saving relationship with God (2 Thess. 2:13, 14).
- The call to serve others (Matt. 20:27, 28).
- The call to choose a career that is in harmony with who God made us to be. It is actually very rare for God to call someone to a specific career path. In my case, I mistook a passion for sharing the gospel for just being a pastor. As a detail-loving introvert, I became a very round peg in a very square hole and paid the price.
Normally, God invites us to choose a career that matches our gifts and personality because He knows that is where we will be most fulfilled and most effective. People should not choose to pastor if it is out of sync with who they are. Pastoring is not all about preaching and teaching the Word. It is also about effective leadership, vision casting, building numerous relationships, motivating and organizing volunteers, conflict management, and counseling. I have great admiration for people who can do that well (1 Cor. 12:4–6, 21, 22).
- All those years studying theology and pastoring were not wasted. The Holy Spirit has led me to use those insights and experiences numerous times in my writing.
God was able to take what seemed, at the time, to be a serious detour in my life and turn it into good. He has plans for all our lives; we must trust Him to reveal how we can best follow them. Pastors, trust in and follow God’s plan and leading, even when it may seem difficult to understand it. He knows best!
