I attended a wedding in Tucson, Arizona last month.

The DJ had just begun to play music as people made their way to the dance floor. I got up out of my seat and headed across the room to a man sitting by himself, watching the scene.

“Want to dance with me?” I smiled down at him.

“No, I’m okay,” he smiled and shook his head. “I don’t dance much.”

“Awe c’mon!” I persisted. “Just a little two step?” He still shook his head no.

“But it’s just with me,” I tried to reason as I sat down next to him.

“I know,” he began. “But I don’t normally dance at weddings. Plus some of my members are here.”

“And you think they would say something if you danced with me? Clearly, it’s harmless.”

“I hear it from church folk; I hear it from my own family,” he sighed. “Everyone always watches what the pastor does.”

I looked at him quietly for a moment, thinking how sad it was that just hours ago he had officiated such a lovely ceremony and he couldn’t even fully participate in the rest of the evening celebration.

That day was April 1, 2021, but my dad’s reality was far from a joke.

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My dad is a pastor and our talk during my brother’s wedding reception wasn’t the first time I’ve witnessed him make sacrifices because of his role. But our extended conversation opened my eyes to the fact that there are so many daily sacrifices pastors (and their families) have to make.

You see, I didn’t grow up with my dad. He and my mom were teenagers when I was born. My dad moved to California, got married, had three more children, and eventually went to seminary after being called to preach. My mom moved to Columbus, Ohio, and also got married, raising me there with my other siblings.

Although I lived with my dad during my fourth grade school year, he was just entering seminary, so I never had the “first family” experience. But after hearing stories from my siblings and some chats with my dad, it’s pretty safe for me to conclude that being a pastor and part of a first family is not easy.

Many pastors and their families suffer in silence. In fact, research shows that 80 percent of pastors believe ministry has negatively affected their families while another 65 percent feel their family lives in a “glass house.”

Can we blame them? 

If we see a pastor out at a restaurant, most people will look to see what he’s drinking.

If we run into a pastor at the movie theater, most folks will double check that movie’s rating.

We’ll check out his car because it shouldn’t be nicer than his members’.

We’ll scrutinize every decision his children make because how can you follow a pastor who can’t control his own household?

His marriage, family, finances, friendships, and everything in between: when it comes to a pastor, we will so easily and oftentimes eagerly critique it all. And I’m by no means saying pastors shouldn’t be held to a higher standard. Just like the office of the U.S. Presidency and other prominent positions, many leadership roles come with higher levels of accountability and expectations.

And clergymen and women are often held to even higher standards because 1) they’re supposed to be called by God 2) they’re supposed to be examples of Christ and 3) they are responsible for the literal eternality of souls.

But in our haste to judge pastors and those in leadership positions within the ministry—insisting that their lives and decisions be “blameless”—I want to exhort us to remember a few things:

Christ calls ALL christians to a higher standard.

We love to side-eye those in leadership, but let’s not forget that Christ has demanded that everyone who follows him reach a higher standard. All christians are to be set apart in our thoughts, actions, character, and lifestyle. Yes, I believe this is especially important for pastors and other clergy because they’re teaching and leading us, so their lives should model what they preach. But we are all witnesses, and it’s also important that our lives model what we say we believe to those who aren’t christians.

Pastors are still humans.

You may have famously heard Deitrick Haddon say, “I’m a pastor but I’m also a man” when speaking of his past marital woes. While I don’t agree with people using the “he’s a man” defense to excuse habitual sin and clear heart and character issues, Haddon and others who say this are right.

Pastors are just as human as you and me, so they don’t always get it right. Now, I hear you. Those pastors who are out here blatantly living lives contrary to the word need to repent instead of falling on their human nature sword. But there are clergymen and women who are truly seeking God and His word, yet still miss the mark. Like us all, pastors are sinners in need of a savior and the continual work and help of the Holy Spirit.

Ministry can be a burden.

Many pastors are on-call 24/7 and expected to always be available to meet their members’ needs. They have to sacrifice time with their family to be there for other families. They may neglect their spouse to keep another marriage from failing. 

Pastors struggle to meet their members’ needs, staff needs, and financial needs to do ministry. They get burned out, but often have to set their physical, mental, and emotional health on the backburner to ensure those areas are well fed for others. And don’t let the Joel Osteens and T.D. Jakes of the preaching profession fool you; many pastors (and church staff) don’t have large salaries, and even more struggle to maintain benefits and save for retirement.

One of the greatest burdens of ministry is the weight of salvation. We may get discouraged trying to bring our loved ones to Christ, but can you imagine how clergy must feel knowing they’re called to help save so many people, yet oftentimes the gospel that they preach will be rejected. Knowing that there are so many out there who reject Jesus isn’t easy to cope with and the burden of this role has led many pastors into depression and suicide.

What is my point?

I’ve previously written about the struggles of being a christian, and I want us all to consider those that come with pastoral ministry. Yes, pastors are held to a higher standard, as are all christians, but they often don’t receive the grace we desire from them.

Let’s encourage our pastors in the same way we seek encouragement from them. Let’s pray for them as we desire prayer. Let’s offer them the same understanding, empathy, and support as we do for our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.

Who knows? Maybe if we do we’ll see more let their hair down on the dance floor.