In prayer, heavy burdens become light, weakness is met with strength, and despair turns to joy. When we release responsibility for the church’s holiness back to Jesus, where it belongs, rejoicing can begin.

Dave was a pastor’s pastor. About midway through his message, he said something that alarmed me: “After stepping away from three decades of pastoral ministry in the local church, I watched my ministry life flash before my eyes. I had many good recollections, but I also had one giant regret: I didn’t enjoy pastoring as much as I could have. I left so much joy on the table.”

When I heard Dave’s words, I winced. I thought of the season an elder tried to oust me from leadership, and how it took the wind out of my sails for months. I recalled a season of intense critique from a small group of people, and how joyless I felt. I thought of the seasons when demanding pastoral cases clustered: counseling a marriage on the brink of divorce, a disgruntled leader and his family leaving the church, a string of emails over cultural events.

But here’s the thing — even in those seasons, I was enjoying God. It was ministry that drained me. I found peace in prayer and satisfaction in God’s word, but when it came to ministry, I left a lot of joy behind. There was a disconnect between communion with God and ministry to his people.

Pastoral Tunnel Vision

One reason for my own joylessness is that I had developed pastoral tunnel vision — seeing the many in the pew through the pinhole of a few. Tunnel vision happens when we lose sight of the periphery while fixating on what is directly in front of us. I was so focused on painful pastoral care that I lost sight of the rest of the church: the weight of a marriage falling apart, the sting of a critic’s carefully worded email, the loneliness of a leader’s departure. The cumulative impact of difficult pastoral demands distorted my perception of ministry. Although there were saints who were edified by my sermons and welcomed my leadership, I couldn’t see them. I only saw sin, criticism, pain, and heartache.

As a result, I failed to discern the whole church. I allowed the voices of a disgruntled group to speak for the quiet and steady saints who were following Jesus alongside me. When marriage issues cropped up, I began to think, “We have a real marriage problem,” when in reality the problem was limited to a few. My narrow perception of the church operated like background software — influential but invisible. How do we shake pastoral tunnel vision?

Personal Awareness

The first step is to become aware of it. I didn’t even have the category at the time, which prevented me from self-diagnosis and course correction. I began to see everyone as a potential drain. I became reluctant to take unscheduled meetings and felt like I couldn’t handle any more demands.

Looking back, I wish I would have realized that pastoral tunnel vision is a real threat to vibrant ministry. Had I been aware of the issue, I could have adjusted my vision sooner. But once I realized this was happening, I saw it coming in advance. I learned to stop and speak back to my emotions and thoughts when they began to distort my view of the whole church. If we don’t cultivate this kind of discernment in the church, the painful stuff will distort our vision.

Pastoral Accountability

Even if we possess considerable self-awareness, and we have the right categories, we are finite. We have a limited perspective on the church.

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