Pastors in Rhino Skin

"If you're going to be a pastor today," said the retired pastor sitting across the bistro table, "you've got to have skin as thick as a rhinoceros." It was one of those statements you hear echoing from the still places for days.

He wasn't talking about the mean words or unkind name-calling from the one-time guest or social media jabs. Those are easy. He wasn't even referring to that one difficult person that's always the thorn in the pastor's side. Nope. He was referring to the well-meaning people of the church with their various opinions and convictions that are precisely the opposite of the views and beliefs of other well-meaning people in the church.

I pastor a small church full of wonderful people. Yet, even in the church I'm a part of, there are Republicans and Democrats, home-schoolers and public school teachers, serious environmentalists and those still unconcerned. We have people who are convinced the rapture is happening next week, while others don't hold that view of the rapture or think that the lack of Oreos on the shelf is a sign of armageddon. Six-day creation and creation over thousands of years is a conversation just under the surface, waiting to bubble up into any conversation for some. I've met with people still worried about the dangers of CRT, while another would like to see more done and preached about racism and is convinced CRT is a reasonable way to think about the problem. Some argue with me that Christians shouldn't own guns, while on the other side of the wall, people are showing their friends pictures of their newest gun purchase.

On one Sunday I was told how wonderful it was that we had teenagers helping collect the offering with their parents, while at the same time, others were grabbing my attention to voice their offense that teens weren't dressed nicely enough to serve. Some like the rawness of my preaching, while others don't want specific words ever said in my sermons again. (At the top of the list are poo, Hitler, and nincompoop.) Some love the word studies and want to hear the Greek and Hebrew words, while others say that's the point when they check out because it's over their heads and not for regular people. I'm told we need to do more with our denomination, while others say, "Let's do less; who needs it." We're not doing enough to keep our kids' safe while at the same time, complaints come that we're too strict for being a little church.

When I need to make a decision, people will be unhappy—every time.

The challenges and the need for rhinoceros skin are not the people. It's the temptations. It's tempting to try to make the most people happy, or everyone if possible. Listening to the squeakiest wheel is easy, but pastors must listen to God. There's the temptation to try to protect unity when controversial topics arise in a dinner conversation, spoken with authority as if everyone around the table agrees on the latest issue. Letting the church bring drama into our faith family is not easy. The temptation is to try to be the peacekeeper. I want to protect the teens, shy ones, new Christians, and those who are sensitive to the issues. It's equally tempting to excuse myself from the table and check out. It's no wonder some pastors become aloof or have no friends at the church. It's no wonder some pastors never share their personal opinions or views.

It's not the outsiders' problems brought to the church that keep the pastor up at night. It's not the world beyond the walls that make the task so challenging. It's the world of the members in the pews, Sunday to Sunday. It’s the stark differences. This is the work that requires thick skin and firm resolve. Is it any more difficult today than it was in the past? I don't think so. But the statement remains true. Anyone wanting to pastor today must have skin as thick as a rhinoceros.