What happens when the pastor’s family isn’t perfect?

In the back corner of a furniture store I picked up an end table to test its weight. The first was too light, so I moved to the next. Working through the next five, I pushed each one to see if it would topple. The sixth one held steady: heavy with blunt edges. Strong enough to withstand a tantrum.

This is one of many decisions I make as a mother raising a child with emotional and behavioral challenges. It’s a weight other parents carry too, but for those of us who pastor and lead church ministries, there is an unspoken expectation: Hide the pain and be composed during church, even when we’ve spent the week in crisis.

Across the body of Christ, I’ve watched fellow leaders carry versions of the same heavy heartbreak. Some, like me, spend our days trying to keep our children from unraveling into meltdowns they can’t control. Others I know have watched their grown children struggle with addiction or mental illness. Adult children may reject faith, which is its own kind of loss.

As leaders, we have to stand up on Sundays, lead worship and preach, and then go home to households that are falling apart. It happens every week. But almost none of us will admit it.

This was brought to my attention by a question on an ordination recommendation form I filled out for a friend. The form covered their beliefs, spiritual formation and prayer life. But one question stood out: Do they have well-behaved children?

I know what people would write about me. Her child doesn’t listen to anyone. He’s always bolting away. And underneath it all, the real question: How can she lead us when she can’t even seem to lead him?

That question, particularly in the context of readiness for ordination, reveals a theology of ministry many of us have absorbed without realizing it: that our households are evidence of our fitness to lead. Scripture calls leaders to manage their households well. But scrutiny and unspoken judgment have twisted that standard into something else: the belief that our children’s illnesses and personal choices are a referendum on our calling.

When our children are thriving, we feel affirmed, not only as parents but in our Christian calling. When they are not, we bear the burden of shame. We feel like failures, not only as parents but also as ministers. That shame keeps us silent.

But here’s the problem: When we model a faith with no room for honest struggle, we teach families managing their own crises at home that the church has no room for them either.

I am still learning that our children’s struggles do not disqualify us as leaders in ministry. I have prayed two prayers while holding a thrashing child: that God would calm his mind and that God would show me what it means to love even in utter chaos.

If we let shame go, our persistence — rather than the absence of conflict — can deepen our understanding of the gospel and our relationship with Jesus. As a pastor who has sat with their child through a psychiatric evaluation, I personally know a God who does not abandon us in our darkest depths. We can sit with prodigals and with the parents waiting for them to come home, because we also know how to wait and carry radical hope. We can confidently assure our congregants that God will never give up on us, because, despite everything, we have never given up on our children.

For ministers who carry private family pain, I offer two pieces of advice that can make the difference between leading sustainably through suffering and being undone by shame.

Separate your children’s story from your identity

When our children struggle, no matter their age, our shame as parents becomes so entangled with our ministerial identity that our entire sense of self feels under indictment. We must do the work of disentangling our worth from the outcomes we cannot control.

The God who called us into ministry was not surprised by our children’s diagnoses or the decisions they have made. Our children are not our credentials but part of our ministry. If we understand that our own behavior does not change who God is, why do we apply a different standard to ourselves and our children?

When we anchor our identity into who God says we are rather than in how our families appear, something releases within us. We can become more present to our congregations. We can become more loving to our children. When we do this, it will make us better parents and better ministers.

Learn to lead from the middle of an unfinished story

Ministry culture loves a testimony with a clean ending. We have been trained to tell our stories of struggle in three movements: problem, faith, resolution. Many of us believe that we cannot testify until we reach the third one. But mental health struggles do not always resolve.

Addictions can be a lifelong battle. Some of our children may be in and out of crisis for decades or perhaps for the rest of our lives. My son is on a long waiting list for cognitive behavioral therapy to help manage his emotional dysregulation and sees three other specialists every week. No simple cure is in his future.

We do not need our children to be healed before we lead. Our calling does not require all our problems to be solved but demands our faithfulness and obedience in what’s left unresolved.

The people we serve are in the middle of their own unfinished stories. Our congregations need to know they are not carrying these burdens alone. God will complete what he has started in us, and within our children, but for today we are called to do the work until our time here is done.

Our churches were never meant to be museums of perfect families. We are part of a broken community being made whole. God loves our children more than we do, and God will not forget them. When we remember that, we can minister from a place of depth rather than weight.

We believe congregations are important, both to those involved in them and to their neighbors, and we want people to know that about our work. It is part of the reason we changed the name of our ministry from Leadership Education to Forum for Congregational Life. 

With that new emphasis and in a season of rapid societal change, we are also considering the impact of AI, cultural polarization and numerous other factors on the work and meaning of congregations.

When Dave started in ministry more than four decades ago, many denominations acted as if one of the primary roles of a congregation was to be an outpost of denominationally developed programs. Today, the activities of a congregation are often determined by its people and shaped by the opportunities and challenges in its particular context.

Given all that is shifting, Alaina believed that our team needed to consider why congregations matter both historically and in our day. We needed to speak the questions on our minds as we launch the Forum.

Christian congregations are the primary social and institutional manifestation of Christian faith today. In Christian congregations, individuals and families gather to receive, affirm and celebrate the transformation they have experienced through faith in the Triune God. In congregations, persons of all ages are formed together in seeking God’s purpose for their shared lives across many years.

This communal expression and experience of faith grounds individuals in God’s redemptive story. The shared work of communal worship gives congregation members renewed imaginations to see God at work in their homes, neighborhoods, workplaces and beyond.

A thriving congregation is firmly grounded in the story of God, continually retold through communal, family and individual practices such as worship, study of Scripture, prayer and discernment. A thriving congregation has integrated its sense of mission and calling into all aspects of its organizational life, including its formational programming and decision-making processes. A thriving congregation is deeply rooted in its place — invested in the culture and history of its neighborhood, faithfully interpreting its theological tradition and commitments within the life of the community beyond the congregation.

Finally, a thriving congregation has a thoroughly Christ-shaped and Spirit-led life, sharing an inextricable connection to the Triune God while remaining fully present to the needs, joys, sorrows and opportunities of the community. Healthy congregational leadership is not limited to pastoral and professional leadership; it includes laity and clergy working collectively to live as Christ lives.

Over the years, we have witnessed many congregations develop a mission or vision statement. In the end, those statements are remarkably alike. Often, the gift of such a process is for the participants to go back to the fundamentals of the faith life and the role of the congregation in that life.

It can be difficult to hold onto these foundational ideals in this season of rapid social and cultural change. All of us are trying to adapt to this environment. Technological advances have made remote work, virtual health care and online education possible. Artificial intelligence is transforming almost every sector of life. Geopolitical and environmental instability raise anxieties and fears for many.

It is not surprising that people may feel overwhelmed. Some attempt to turn back the clock, while others choose to trust in the latest innovation. Some may be paralyzed by the situation. In the midst of these changes, trust in institutions of all types is eroding.

Congregations, naturally, need to adapt to the changing circumstances. In a 2024 survey for the Exploring the Pandemic Impact on Congregations (EPIC) project conducted by the Hartford Institute for Religion Research, 46% of respondents reported that they regularly participate — in-person or virtually — in congregations beyond their primary one, and 7% identified as having more than one “home church.” What does this information mean in terms of church membership? What should any of these respondents’ congregations expect in terms of participation?

Leaders of congregations are considering a host of distinct and interrelated questions: How do we lead others to live a life of faith that matters? What is the role of technology in facilitating worship? How do we support Christian discipleship for families who seldom attend services and frequently access content on their phones? How do we measure the impact of our engagement with the community?

These shifts raise basic organizational questions about what a church staff and building should do: How do we determine the adequate size of a church staff? What is the role of a church building? What does it mean if a church is in a neighborhood? Some leaders are not sure where to find information and ideas beyond their friends, colleagues, peers and perhaps their denomination.

One way to see the new situation for congregations is to remember the effectiveness of the mid-20th century’s most commonly used metric for church life: average weekly worship attendance. Lyle Schaller, a highly regarded church consultant of that era, considered a congregation’s size to be the most crucial variable in predicting its culture and work. This measure helped gauge adequate programs, staffing, location, buildings and land use. Attendance still matters today, but it does not predict revenue or requests for support in the way it once did.

We can see another shift in expressions of congregational life through programming. In Schaller’s time, congregations offered a host of programs, ranging from youth groups to Bible studies. Even worship services were often planned like program events. The program-planning model has been slowly shifting, but these changes became much more widespread during the stay-at-home phase of the pandemic. Programs were generally shut down for months or longer. Worship, prayer and fellowship, however, continued in new and old ways that are still evolving.

Another shift is away from the congregation as a “voluntary association.” Since the same period when programing became central, congregations have generally been organized like civic organizations, such as women’s clubs or Lions Clubs. But all of these associational forms are shifting as we approach the mid-21st century. At the moment, few groups of this kind are attracting younger adults, who often connect instead through social media and are more likely to affiliate with a movement than a formal association. Yet the bonds of a movement are often not as long-lasting or consistent as those created in many voluntary associations, particularly congregations.

These shifts and changes invite us to wonder: How should congregations evolve to offer their gifts in new ways? The mission of congregations is not changing, but the expressions of congregational life are evolving. This transition can be difficult to track and notice across various Christian traditions. There are places for a congregation to go for help — like a denomination, a school or a consulting firm — but those places may not have the time and energy to develop networks so congregations can learn from each other.

We want the Forum for Congregational Life to be a place that supports the exploration of today’s pressing questions and any new questions that may emerge for congregations. We believe that the variety of Christian traditions and their congregations will likely respond to the times in many different ways, and we aspire to facilitate ways to learn from each other.

Participation in congregational life has been significant to Christian persons and families throughout the church’s history. In different seasons, congregational life has evolved to include many expressions: house churches, small rural congregations, megachurches, cathedrals and more. Alongside all who care about congregations, we are excited to discover how these forms are evolving and the impact congregations are having in this age.

Last week, our ministry changed its name from “Leadership Education at Duke Divinity” to “Forum for Congregational Life.” Changing every word in the name after 18 years feels risky to me. Why is this a good idea?

For about 10 years, I fretted that the name of our ministry said very little about our actual work. When explaining what we did, I frequently acknowledged that the name indicated nothing about our mission, goals or audience.

At our start, the name was accurate. Our work was continuing education for leaders, so Leadership Education worked fine. Our home was Duke University Divinity School, so that part was clear if you knew much about the school and its commitments. However, the name never explicitly identified our mission to strengthen the institutions that serve congregations. It did not communicate our hope to nurture congregations through building up their support systems.

At a deeper level, the opportunities and challenges facing congregations aren’t served well by one-size-fits-all programs. Leaders need peers with whom to trade ideas and share what’s working. Leaders need time to reflect. Organizations need collaborators from various communities and disciplines. We all need encouragement to think long-term and base our decisions on our theological convictions.

We found that not many people had the opportunity to ponder the realities of congregational life. Not many groups could invest resources to study, experiment, reflect and try again. Leaders found what we were doing meaningful but did not refer to it as education.

Still, changing the organization’s name was a huge step. There was much to consider before we made the change:

• How important is the message embedded in the new name? For five years, our website homepage has said, “We believe in the difference congregations make in the lives of people and communities.” A new name could make that belief clearer.
• Are the resources available to “be” the new name? A forum is a kind of network, which is seldom a self-supporting ministry. Ongoing philanthropic support is usually required for any such effort. Leadership Education was launched and sustained through grants from Lilly Endowment Inc. The Endowment asked Duke Divinity School to consider changing Leadership Education to the Forum and invited a proposal for substantial support. Because Lilly Endowment previously asked us to support their initiatives with Thriving Congregations, Thriving in Ministry and Ministry in Rural Areas and Small Towns, hundreds of organizations have developed relationships with us and with each other. These connections are the bases for the network.
• Do we know how to do the work? About 80% of the Forum’s activities will be built directly from the activities of Leadership Education. We will host Lilly Endowment grantees. We will write stories and amplify the stories written by others. We will reflect practically and theologically on ministry. We will offer grants to support practices of reflection. All of our publications will continue, and we will add a new one. In short, we have the resources and experience to do this.
• Is the work different enough to justify a new name? Yes. Congregational life will be so central to our ongoing efforts that we want to identify it explicitly in the Forum. We will host conversations about congregational life that will connect scholars and practitioners. It will connect experiments funded by philanthropy with congregations and their leaders. Over time, this work of nurturing meaningful connections will grow.

A forum is a place of deliberation that is outside the normal rhythms of life. A forum is not a center or an institute. It is a place of connection that supports the development of insight and action.

One concern with changing a name is the impression that the old goes away. But everything that Leadership Education did lives on through the Forum. In fact, several of our grant offerings will grow exponentially, especially our Reflective Leadership grants. In the next year, we will offer grants to individual leaders and teams that support congregational life. While we are setting up for that growth, we are pausing a few specialized programs, like our Foundations of Christian Leadership course.

No name can do everything we would want it to do. “Forum” is not in common usage. We will have to work hard to prove that a forum is for all people and all types of congregations. The word “congregations” excludes some faith traditions that don’t use the term. Nevertheless, we want to hear from these traditions and that they will share their insights with those of us who think in terms of congregations.

Hopefully our name will prompt reflection on what you think is happening with congregations in the United States. I have devoted my entire career to congregations, and they have always nurtured me. My earliest job was as a custodian at my family’s church. That congregation licensed me to ministry as a teenager and ordained me as a young adult.

My kids believed that no matter where they were, if they ever needed help, I would always know someone from a nearby a congregation who could provide it. (The advantage of spending more than two decades as a church consultant is knowing many churches.)

Congregations are significant contributors to the spiritual formation of individuals and supporters of families. Congregations impact their neighborhoods and beyond, from participating in shared community events to addressing daunting regional needs.

Congregations and parishes are complex. Like families and other such systems, they can do harm. No simple description contains all the truth. We hold congregations to higher standards because they should reflect God’s beloved community. When they don’t, we ask for forgiveness and hold them up for correction.

But have you ever tried to explain how a congregation gets things done? Have you tried to explain a Baptist congregation to a Catholic parish or introduce either one to a Pentecostal or Quaker congregation? The beliefs of these groups impact worship, decision-making and more.

People with experience in business or government or medicine can only use some of what they know about organizations to understand the living organism represented by a congregation in any of its forms. There is some specialized knowledge and experience that is transferable, but other aspects are specific to a tradition.

Leadership Education has changed its name because we want to be part of the conversation about congregational life. We want to encourage congregations to learn from each other, and we want congregations to reflect on God’s purposes for Christians. At our core, we believe in the difference that congregations make in the lives of people and communities.

A worship pastor in Santa Cruz County, California, told me something I can’t shake.

“You get so conditioned in ministry to just ‘get what you get and don’t throw a fit,’” he said. “It’s labeled as ‘contentment.’”

He continued, “Wanting something more is sort of treated like you are spiritually immature.”

Hmm. So this guy was leading in worship but lamenting in private.

He was renting, in the housing-affordability spiral. The pastoral team at the top owned homes — bought early, spouse in tech, whatever. The rest were absorbing the cost of California housing on ministry salaries, shielding the church from a crisis it didn’t have to see.

“As long as we stay, that’s proof there’s no problem,” he said.

I run a housing nonprofit for ministry staff called Aslan Housing Foundation. I came into this work thinking I was helping churches solve a logistics problem — matching resources to needs, building tools, facilitating conversations. I was wrong. Somewhere along the way, the scales fell from my eyes, and I stopped being neutral.

It happened on a Zoom meeting, not the road to Damascus. A finance elder was pushing back on the idea that a pastor might want to own a home. The tilt was familiar: He’s a pastor. Why should he expect that?

I stopped him. “Hold on,” I said. “In the Catholic tradition, priests get modest pay, but they get lifetime provision — housing, insurance, retirement. The institution carries them.

“In Protestant churches, we’ve inherited the expectation of sacrifice without the institutional commitment that made it sustainable. And without getting into the errors of the prosperity gospel, we have a biblical mandate to support our pastors. If we think homeownership is a wholesome goal for the people in our pews — the stability, the rootedness, the equity — why would that not be a wholesome goal for the people in our pulpits?”

Sound in the room grew muted. I’d said the quiet part out loud. And I realized I wasn’t just helping churches anymore. I was fighting for pastors.

Scripture is not subtle about this. Paul tells Timothy that elders who lead well are worthy of “double honor” — and lest we spiritualize that into mere respect, he clarifies in the next breath: “The worker deserves his wages” (1 Timothy 5:17-18, NIV).

The Greek word for honor, timē, can also mean price. Compensation. Paul isn’t speaking in metaphor. He’s talking about money.

In America, in 2026, that wage needs to provide a roof.

But here’s what the system hides: Churches are exempt from filing 990s. Unlike every other nonprofit, they don’t have to disclose executive compensation. The tech CFO’s pay is in the proxy statement. The food bank ED is on GuideStar. Even the public school kindergarten teacher’s salary is public record. None of these organizations bursts into flames because they make salaries public.

So why not be transparent about pastor pay? Many congregations see a line item marked “personnel” and nothing more. Elders set salaries behind closed doors, benchmarking against vibes. The exemption isn’t the problem — churches could choose transparency anyway. The problem is that too many don’t. And in that silence pastors learn that asking is unseemly, that wanting is weakness, that contentment means keeping quiet.

This is the trap. Caring is the job, so self-advocacy feels like selfishness. The same instinct that makes someone a good pastor — attentiveness to others, reluctance to center themselves — makes it almost impossible to say: “I need more. I deserve more. My family deserves more.” 

So they absorb it. They take the problem onto themselves and shield the church from seeing it. They rent in cities where their congregants own. They watch their kids grow up knowing they could be displaced any month. They tell themselves it’s temporary, or it’s sanctifying, or it’s just the cost of calling. 

Until it isn’t. Until they move to Idaho. 

That’s not a dig at Idaho. It’s a eulogy. A pastor I worked with told me plainly when Aslan was just starting: “If I can’t get into a homeownership position before my eldest starts kindergarten, we’re leaving.” 

He left. He’s in Idaho now. The church lost a pastor. His community lost a shepherd. 

Shrug. Shucks. It’s just the way things are. 

No. It’s not inevitable. It’s a choice. 

It’s a series of choices made by some churches and congregants that don’t see what they’re not looking at, protected by structures that don’t require transparency and sustained by a theology of pastoral sacrifice that never asks who’s actually paying the price. 

I didn’t start this work as an advocate. I started as a facilitator. But I’ve sat in too many rooms, heard too many pastors whisper the thing they’re afraid to say out loud, watched too many finance committees flinch at the idea that their pastor might want what the committee members have. 

So yes — I’m vehemently pro-pastor now. Not because pastors are perfect. Not because ministry is easy. But because in a capitalist society, love and care also look like money. And until churches reckon with that, we’ll keep losing the people we can least afford to lose. 

I’m not asking for new regulations. I’m asking for old faithfulness. The kind that looks a pastor in the eye and says, “We see you, and we’re going to act like it.”