Paradoxes and Spiritual Surrogacy

I've noted many times before that ministry is hard. Being a pastor is full of so many gifts and blessings, but it is also full of challenges. Throw a global pandemic into the mix and things get even more tricky. Throw in being a mom to a very attached toddler, and that just adds to the chaos. 

A great depiction of the many roles I carry: wife, mother, and pastor

This stage of life that I'm in right now, the mom of a little one and the pastor of a church is just hard. I constantly feel pulled in different directions and my life is one big bag of paradoxes. Some days I am touched-out by mid-morning after a night of broken sleep and constantly holding our daughter. But then, as soon as I get a moment to myself, whether it's putting her down for a nap or leaving for a run, I miss her. I long for the freedom to be able to sit by myself in a chair to read or try to get work done. But then, when I get it, I feel guilty or I feel overwhelmed by pressure to get as much done as possible in what little time I have to myself. 

The paradoxes aren't limited to motherhood either. Being a pastor is filled with them too. I love preaching; in fact, it's one of my favorite parts of being a pastor. But, so often, sitting down to write a sermon feels like trying to draw water from an empty well. Or, as we continue to navigate this pandemic, I deeply love opportunities for fellowship and connection. I love giving hugs and feeling like I can connect with my congregation. But, at the same time, I get overwhelmed by worries about safety measures and doing all I can to keep everyone safe and healthy. 

Holding all of these conflicting truths and emotions can be downright exhausting. It's a lot to carry. And something I've noticed, especially over the last couple of months, is how much my own spiritual, mental, and emotional health has suffered in the process. In those rare moments when I can stop and think, I sometimes wonder if I have any faith or spirituality at all anymore. Because it can feel more like something I've grown really good at talking about for the sake of a sermon or prayer rather than something I readily experience. I was journaling before church on Sunday this past week, a rare occurrence made possible by Abigail going to church with Shane, and started to think about this notion. As I did, the perfect metaphor for how I feel came to mind. 

So often, being a pastor feels like surrogacy to me. And I will note here, that I have not experienced surrogacy first-hand, so I won't claim to understand all of the emotional intricacies of that journey, but still. Being a pastor feels like spiritual surrogacy because I read scripture and study and pray and do all of these things on behalf of other people. I go to scripture to uncover what it might be saying for my congregation in a given week. I read and study to help prepare a sermon or study. I pray for my congregation, for their loved ones and for their pain points and their celebrations. I carry all of these tasks on behalf of other people, and then I wonder if I have any spirituality or faith of my own. Where is the time for that? How do I even cultivate the space to pursue that? 

I don't know. Most days, I can hardly even go to the bathroom by myself, so these bigger, weightier tasks feel almost unfathomable. I don't know what it looks like to continue this holy work of spiritual surrogacy while also having a deep well of my own spirituality. I know there is a both/and there, but I don't know what it looks like yet. And I know that it will change and evolve over time as I go through different seasons of life. I don't know what spirituality and faith look like as a mother, wife, daughter, and pastor, but I'm leaning in to finding out. I'm looking to discover and co-create my unique identity that honors all of these parts of myself. Because all of these parts of me are vital pieces of who God has created me to be.