I didn’t realise it at the time, but in my last few years in paid ministry, I was running on fumes.
On Sundays, I’d stand in front of a congregation and preach about hope, grace, and rest while quietly ignoring every sign that I was running dangerously low on all three.
I thought I was doing God’s work. In reality, I was a man burning up his own soul to keep the lights on for everyone else. I was skipping days off, answering late-night calls, filling every crisis with a half-empty cup. And I wasn’t alone. Every pastor I knew seemed to be doing the same. We joked about it in staff meetings: the exhaustion, the endless needs, the pressure to have all the answers.
We spiritualised it as “sacrifice.”
In reality, I was caught up in a mental health crisis enabled by a broken system. Chances are, your pastor either needs therapy now or will soon.
Here are the sobering facts on pastoral burnout.
The Unspoken Crisis in the Pulpit
Pastors experience depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation at higher rates than the general population. This study, found in the National Library of Medicine, reported the following:
Sit with that for a moment.
The ones we expect to hold steady when life unravels, the ones who bury our dead, bless our babies, and counsel us through betrayal, addiction, and grief, are often carrying private battles that run deeper than the people they serve.
According to another recent study, over one in ten pastors has seriously considered ending their own life in the last year. Many work brutal hours, 55 to 70 each week, and even then feel they’re falling short. Most have no regular mental health support at all. Some don’t seek help because they’re too busy. Others fear being judged or losing their job if they admit they’re drowning.
We like to pretend the pulpit is a safe distance from the mess of real life. But the truth is, behind many pulpits stands a person one panic attack, one marriage fight, one congregational crisis away from collapse, and the system not only allows this, it too often demands it.
We call it “faithful service.” In reality, it’s a slow bleed dressed up as spiritual heroism. And it’s costing us good people who never should have had to choose between saving their own souls or saving everyone else’s.
How We Celebrate Self-Destruction
I remember, as a young man, sitting in church when one of our pastors stood up, voice ringing with conviction, and declared:
“I’d rather burn out for the Lord than rust out!”
The place erupted. People clapped, shouted Amen!, and nodded as if he’d just preached the purest truth about serving God. I believed him. Many of us did. We thought it was a mark of devotion to pour ourselves out completely, no matter the cost.
A few years later, that same pastor died of a heart attack.
Why It Happens
Moments like that pastor’s declaration — “I’d rather burn out for the Lord than rust out!” — don’t come out of nowhere. They’re the fruit of a system that trains both leaders and congregations to believe that exhaustion equals faithfulness.
And it’s not just an attitude problem. Studies make it clear: the pressures that push pastors to say things like this and live them out are built right into the way most churches operate.
Here’s what keeps feeding the burnout cycle:
Role overload
Pastors wear too many hats at once: preacher, counsellor, administrator, event planner, conflict mediator, sometimes even cleaner or tech support when no one else shows up.
When I look back, I realise that my actual job description and what I was doing day-to-day rarely matched. What started as “teach the Bible and care for people” quietly grew into managing building projects, running meetings, mediating family disputes, designing newsletters, troubleshooting the sound desk, and stepping in whenever a volunteer dropped out at the last minute.
We call this role creep — the slow, quiet expansion of tasks that were never part of the original call but somehow land on the pastor’s plate because “someone has to do it.” Over time, you stop doing the work only you can do — and spend your best energy doing work anyone could do if you trusted them or had backup.
Meanwhile, real rest and focused reflection are the first things to go. You’re constantly responding, constantly solving, and constantly putting your own soul on the back burner.
Most pastors I know are genuinely willing to serve — but no one has the capacity to be ten people at once. Yet the system keeps expecting it — and praising them for it right up until they can’t do it anymore.
Blurry boundaries
Ministry rarely stops at the church door. There’s always someone who needs a visit, an urgent crisis that can’t wait, or a phone call that comes just as you’re sitting down to dinner. Even days off don’t always belong to you.
I remember once deciding — finally — to protect my one day off that week. I turned my phone off and took my family out for the day, hoping to recharge a little. When I got back, I found out the church had held a working bee to tidy the grounds and repaint a few rooms — and people were openly upset that I hadn’t shown up to pitch in. Some even hinted, not so subtly, that a “good shepherd” would have been there, day off or not.
That’s what blurred boundaries look like in real life: you’re expected to be always available, always willing, always putting ministry first — even if it means never truly resting, and quietly resenting the people you love most for stealing what little time you have left for them.
It all adds up to chronic stress. When there’s no clear line between your work and your life, you eventually forget what life outside work even feels like. And before long, the calling you once loved feels more like a trap you can’t escape.
Unrealistic and shifting expectations
Congregations want pastors to be everything to everyone: deeply spiritual but not out of touch, endlessly available but also perfectly balanced, relatable yet authoritative, warm but firm, humble but confident.
Most churches don’t clearly define what can’t be expected, so pastors spend half their energy guessing what will keep people happy and the other half scrambling to meet whatever today’s new demand might be.
One week, people want more visionary leadership. The next, they want more pastoral care. Then they want more dynamic preaching, more programs for kids, more community outreach — all while assuming the pastor should be the driver, the organiser, and the safety net when things go wrong.
This moving target wears pastors down. Many try to juggle it all rather than risk disappointing anyone — and end up disappointing everyone, including themselves.
Isolation and lack of safe support
Many pastors have no one they can talk to honestly about what’s really happening inside. Even surrounded by people, they carry their own burdens in secret, often out of fear that any sign of struggle will damage trust or spark gossip.
One survey by Lifeway Research found that 84% of pastors say they feel on call 24 hours a day, and 54% find the role frequently overwhelming, but only a fraction have a trusted mentor, therapist, or peer group to help shoulder that weight in private.
It’s a strange kind of loneliness: being the safe place for everyone else’s secrets, but having nowhere safe for your own. Over time, that isolation feeds burnout, depression, and sometimes quiet moral failure because it’s nearly impossible to stay whole when you’re not allowed to be human.
Put all this together, and it’s no mystery why a pastor might stand in front of a church and declare, without irony, that they’d rather die working than slow down. The system taught them to see burnout not as a danger, but as proof of devotion.
What Needs to Change
This is not hopeless. We can do better for our pastors, for our churches, and for the communities they serve. But change won’t come from wishful thinking or an occasional sermon about “self-care.” It requires structural commitments and clear boundaries that the whole church agrees to uphold whether it’s popular or not.
First, churches must define a realistic job description and stick to it. A clear pastoral role should spell out not only what a pastor is expected to do, but just as importantly, what they are not expected to do. This protects pastors from the slow creep of extra duties that drain time and spirit. Boards and congregations need to hold each other accountable when lines blur — because they will.
Next, days off must be non-negotiable. One guaranteed day each week that belongs to the pastor and their family with zero expectation of calls, drop-ins, or “just one thing” requests. This boundary should be enforced, not suggested. Churches should also insist that pastors take their full annual leave, every year, without guilt or endless “checking in” while they’re away. No one is so indispensable that rest can be skipped indefinitely , and pastors are no exception.
True mental health support must be built in, not left up to individual initiative. Every pastor should have mandatory pastoral supervision and regular access to an external, qualified counsellor paid for by the church, not out of the pastor’s pocket. Just as churches cover resources like Bibles and leadership training, they must cover the costs of the care that keeps their leaders whole. This is not an optional luxury it’s a safeguard for everyone.
Finally, the culture must shift from praising overwork to valuing sustainability. A pastor saying “no” to something they cannot carry should be seen as wisdom, not weakness. When a congregation learns to share responsibility instead of pushing it all uphill, everyone becomes healthier and the mission becomes more credible.
A Better Way Forward
I spent too long convincing myself I could run on empty for the sake of everyone else. I thought that was faithfulness. Looking back, I see it for what it was: a slow neglect of my own soul.
I don’t want that for anyone who stands behind a pulpit now. And I don’t think you do either.
If you care about your pastor, care about their humanity. Care enough to make their days off untouchable, their holidays compulsory, their boundaries respected without side comments and guilt trips. Care enough to insist they have a real counsellor, not just a friendly coffee chat with another pastor who’s just as tired.
And if you’re a pastor reading this: don’t wait until you hate your job, your people, or yourself. Book the session. Switch off your phone. Take the break you keep promising your family you’ll take “when things slow down.”
They won’t.
What I know now is simple: the gospel I preached — hope, grace, rest — was true. I just forgot it applied to me, too.
So let it apply to you. And to your pastor. They don’t need to be burned out to be faithful. And they don’t need to be the last to leave the church car park to prove they love God.
—
This post was previously published on Backyard Church.
***
You Might Also Like These From The Good Men Project
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project, please join us as a Premium Member today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
Photo credit: iStock
