In the Christian community, we tend to be enthusiastic about new voices and fresh perspectives. We are eager to hear conference headliners and read the latest viral posts. We seek out variety and diversity. This isn’t necessarily bad. But we must not overlook the value of a single, faithful voice: 52 Sundays every year, standing behind an ordinary pulpit, preaching verse after verse after verse about the excellencies of Jesus Christ.

In January, my father retired as the pastor of the Presbyterian Church of Coventry, a PCA congregation in rural Connecticut. He had been the pastor for 37 years.

This means almost all my life—certainly all my life that I can remember—my dad and mom served this single church. I was a baby in its nursery, a child in its Sunday school, and a teenager hanging out on its sagging couches in the back room. I was a college student home for the summer and a single woman between jobs. In recent years I’ve come back as an occasional visitor, sitting in the pews with my husband and kids.

According to statistics compiled by Thom Rainer, the current median pastoral tenure is six years. That means many pastors’ kids, including my own, have changed churches at some time—often several times—in their childhood.

To be sure, it’s not always best for a pastor to remain in one congregation for decades, and I trust that pastors’ kids growing up in a variety of churches have unique opportunities to learn to love Christ’s church wherever she gathers.

But, for me, it was good to stay. I learned at least four lessons during my father’s long tenure:

1. The church is worth a lifetime.

The Presbyterian Church of Coventry is not a large church by most measures. Today, it has around 180 members. Three decades ago, it had far fewer. But each of those members has a soul that will never die. And the whole church stands as a vital gospel witness on the barren New England spiritual landscape. Over the course of a lifetime, my dad diligently used his gifts for the good of the church, and his willing labor testified to the value of the people he served.

In this, my dad was following the example of the church’s Chief Shepherd. Christ gave his life so he might “present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish” (Eph. 5:27). Every one of Christ’s 30-some years on the earth were dedicated to the good of his bride. We will not regret doing likewise.

2. There are weak sheep, and sometimes goats and wolves, but the Shepherd reigns.

Of course, you can’t spend 37 years in one church without experiencing trouble. There are lovely people in the church—people who love Christ and trust his Word and seek to serve one another. But not everyone. Even as a child, I knew that, sometimes, people who joyfully claimed Christ one year denied him in word and deed the next. People who said they wanted to serve the church ended up tearing it down, one brick of contention at a time. People who were leaders could fall into grievous sin. People who were intelligent could tell lies. People who were kind in public could drip malice behind closed doors.

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