“It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.” Charles Dickens was the king of paradox. These two lines open one of his most famous works, A Tale of Two Cities (1859). The novel, a work of classic literary art, pictures the stark contrast between English and French life during the years of the French Revolution. I wasn’t there, of course. But I do recall a particular moment in time when I felt like my soul was at war within me, tearing itself between extremes. Being a pastor was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. It was also one of the most stressful.
One October evening, as the rhythms of church life had begun to swell with the season, I felt something deeply emotional within me. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on the feeling itself. I wasn’t sure if it was anxiety over upcoming decisions or excitement over recent salvations and baptisms. Maybe it was the overwhelming joy of having recently led a local father to Christ and now helping him disciple his children. Or maybe it was an overwhelming perplexity after having just gotten chewed out by a longtime church member for the keyboard being too loud (over which I had no control). And it’s not like these opposing feelings were vacillating within me. Rather, it was all there, at the same time, all together. Things were great. And things were hard. Things were headed in the right direction. And things seemed to be stalled. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.
Only a few months earlier, I had sat down with my wife, Vanessa, on our couch, and she ministered to my soul on a spiritually dark night. I was ready to quit, but she spoke truth in love and prayed over me. Now, a few months after deciding to stay, in faithful obedience to Christ’s calling to that congregation, that strange and inexpressible feeling was still there. Still stirring, still festering, still looming. But that October evening, as I writhed in the dead space of conflicting emotions, something happened.
A cheerful knock announced an unexpected guest. I opened the door to see our children’s ministry director holding a basket. She smiled, gave me a hug, handed me the basket, and said, “The children wanted me to give you this. They love and appreciate their pastor.” There must have been 75 handwritten and colored cards in that basket. I cried as I read through every one. A kindergarten boy had drawn a stick-figure pastor and scribbled beneath it, “I luv yo Pastr Toni!” On a more neatly attended parchment, a fifth grader declared her appreciation in the most thoughtful words and the most careful cursive. It took me an hour to read through them all. They lifted my soul that night.
October is Pastor Appreciation Month, and your pastors need to be encouraged. First Timothy 5:17 says, “The elders who are good leaders are to be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who work hard at preaching and teaching.” Double honor refers to both remuneration and respect. Paying your hardworking pastor a healthy living wage is a matter of normal, everyday honor. Affording your hardworking pastor the genuine respect and appreciation he earns as a faithful shepherd is the double honor. Find a way to celebrate and encourage your pastor this month.