A Letter to My Fellow Clergy Who Will Pastor During Another Trump Administration

Dear Clergy Colleagues, 

I write this letter on the first Sunday after Donald Trump's presidential election. As I write, emails have already come in from parishioners who are upset with me and my co-pastor after our Sunday morning worship service. We chose to lean into the discomfort and elevate the voices of those fearful and hurting as we discussed the election results. Today has been a reminder of how hard it is to pastor during a Trump administration. After reading an email from an upset parishioner this afternoon, I was caught off guard by some old wounds that I thought had healed.

In the days after the election, I had clergy colleagues (spanning the political and theological spectrum) call, text, and email articulating the same sentiment—How are we going to survive this again? For many of us, pastoring during his prior administration was the longest four years of our lives. Remember the handling of the pandemic? The racial unrest? We are being asked to do it all over again. Some of my older colleagues are contemplating whether this is the year to retire. Some are contemplating leaving the ministry, something we saw in exponential numbers during his first administration. I worry about my friends. I worry about how the Church, including my congregation, will navigate these waters again.  

So, whether you are a seasoned pastor or new to the call, let’s be reminded of what lies ahead. 

During this season, some will repeatedly make much of what you say a Democrat vs. Republican debate. They will hear things only through their political ideology. As you seek to keep your congregation's attention on the gospel, some will interpret your messages as left-leaning talking points. People will struggle to differentiate between the politics of the Kingdom of God with partisanship. I remember a time when I was preaching from the Sermon on the Mount. Afterward, a parishioner aggressively said, “It was like having Chuck Schumer or Nancy Pelosi standing behind the pulpit!” This was followed by insults and an accusation of being a socialist. You will want to defend your integrity. Instead, because you are a professional, you will bite your tongue and calmly remind your church members of Jesus’ words. Some will listen to this. Some will not. And most likely, you will be called to the bedside of angry parishioners when they pass away or face a crisis. This will be hard. But you’ll grab their hand in care and remind yourself that you are an ambassador of Christ. When you do this, you honor your call, and Christ is glorified. 

People will leave your church. This guts me every time. I hate it when people leave. But they will. And you will be up all night wondering how your church will survive. You may have to cut some budget items, including vital ministries. These decisions are complicated, and you will not feel good about them. You will question yourself over and over again. Some people will leave quietly. Others will do as much destruction as possible as they go. Both are hard for their own reasons. Both will make you question whether you are the right pastor for your church. Depending upon your ecclesiastical tradition, some will seek to have you fired or reappointed to another church. They will write letters to your superiors. When you catch wind of this, you will become flooded with all kinds of emotions. Give yourself grace. Be slow to speak, and ask God to enhance your capacity to love and keep your heart soft. There will be days when that seems impossible. 

People, even people who you are close with and deeply care about, will say unChristlike things to your face, on social media, or behind your back. I remember in the first administration, a parishioner emailed and asked my opinion on a controversial topic. The emailer sent a video of another pastor’s sermon and asked if I would watch the video and respond. So I did. I engaged the video thoughtfully, respectfully, and theologically. I took the time to share my perspective. I had been to this parishioner’s house many times, and these conversations were very common between us. I thought I was having an email conversation with him alone, only to find out he was emailing a version of my response to a contingent of like-minded church members. In his emails to his friends, he made untrue and hurtful comments about me. Soon my inbox was flooded with angry messages, misinterpreting and misconstruing my thoughts. That hurt. It hurt bad. I almost quit ministry over it.

You will do a great deal of grief work for others and yourself. Today, between our worship services, my co-pastor, who preached a hard and courageous sermon, asked why he always gets emotional when discussing others' fears and worries. I told him because he’s embodying their grief and pain. And that, dear colleagues, is the point of pastoral ministry. When some of Trump’s campaign plans (mass deportation, for example) come to fruition, you will embody so much of others' grief and pain, including people you will never meet. You will also grieve the loss of friendships, including church members who you looked up to as spiritual mentors. You will need a therapist during these years. Let me say that again…YOU WILL NEED A THERAPIST. The pain will be too hard for you to bear alone. You need a safe space to process. 

To the point above, you will face difficult decisions about when and what to say when dehumanizing and harmful policies are enacted. Because you love people, you will want to preach about things Trump says or does every week. There will always be enough material for that. But you’ll agonize over when to say something at the risk of offending people and when not to say something, also at the risk of offending people. There are no winners in these situations. Use wisdom and discernment, and always be faithful to the scriptures. Let the scriptures speak for themself. Some weeks, you’ll get it right. Some weeks you won’t. You are human, and that’s beautiful. 

There will be people who will share how thankful they are that you do speak out when you do. These comments will be a balm to your tired soul. And you’ll need them. They’ll give you confidence that you are doing the right thing. But, if you’re anything like me, you’ll focus more on the criticisms than the affirmations. It’s normal. The criticism will keep you up at night, too. They will feel heavy and sometimes unbearable. Give them to God as God desires to hold them for you. 

Some of you will find yourself in situations that are no longer healthy for you (or your family). You will be faced with some choices: leave your church and look for a new congregation, retire, find a new career, or stay put and stick it out with the hopes things will improve. Know that your decision is the right decision. Trust your instincts. Listen to the voice of the Spirit. Reach out to colleagues and people you trust for wisdom. You will need others. 

This last line—you will need others—is perhaps the most important thing I learned during his first administration. Pastoring during these days was very lonely. You will need other colleagues, supportive leaders in your church, a community of grace, and people to lift you up when your arms are too tired. You will need others to sit with you in your anger and pain. You will need friends to surround you and bless you as you pour yourself into your church community. 

Lastly, do not neglect the care of your soul. Attend other worship services where you can simply be a fellow disciple. Watch other people’s sermons so that others can preach to you. Take your days off so you can simply be. Find a Spiritual Director. Increase your engagements with the spiritual disciplines. Exercise. Find a hobby. If possible, attend at least one retreat a year. Take your vacations. Drink lots of water. Rest. 

I believe these days are going to be even more difficult for pastors. But I trust that by God’s compassion and grace, we will make it to the other side, perhaps bruised and battered, but we will make it. 

I see you. I love you. I understand you. We must lift each other up as we remind ourselves of our callings to this sacred, often messy, and complicated vocation of pastoral ministry.