Ministry has always had its challenges, but today it feels like something has shifted. Pastoring in 2025 is not like pastoring was in 2015, or even in 2020. The last few years have seen a radical reshaping of the social, emotional and spiritual terrain. The ambient anxiety of a pandemic, the velocity of cultural change, the polarization of nearly every issue, and the commodification of church leadership have left many pastors exhausted, confused and/or deeply discouraged.
Every month I meet leaders—godly men and women—who are asking, “Is it still worth it?” The weight of unmet expectations, internal conflict, online critique and personal pain has pressed them to the edge. Some are hanging on by a thread; others have let go. And yet, in the rubble of what’s been lost, I believe something stronger, purer and more resilient is being built.
I am writing for the pastors who are still standing, maybe just barely, but still standing, and who feel a holy discontent rising inside. It’s for those who sense that this cultural moment, as hard as it is, is also ripe for renewal. It’s for the overcomers, the persevering and faithful.
The New Terrain: Anxiety and Outrage
The two dominant notes of our age, particularly for leaders, are anxiety and outrage. The pace and scope of change has generated low-grade panic in many congregations. Politics, race, gender, public health and even eschatology have become lines of division in the church. What once felt like secondary issues now threaten to splinter communities. People are leaving churches, not necessarily because of heresy or sin, but because of differing convictions on debatable matters. Everyone feels like they’re walking through a minefield.
And as anxiety rises, outrage follows. The pressure to “say something” or “take a stand” on every issue has created an unsustainable, disembodied ministry treadmill. Many of us are exhausted from trying to please everyone only to end up pleasing no one. Worse still, anxiety and outrage have crept into our souls. We’ve become more reactionary, less reflective. More defensive, less discerning. And in the midst of it, our communion with God—the wellspring of our calling—can feel shallow or distant.
But none of this is new. Not really. The early church lived under constant pressure: cultural rejection, theological confusion, political instability, spiritual attack, persecution. And yet, Paul could write with clarity and courage to Timothy, urging him not to lose heart. Not to shrink back. Not to abandon the gift entrusted to him.
We need that same voice today.
Paul’s Word to Timothy and to Us
In 2 Timothy 1:6–7, Paul writes: “For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”
If you’re in ministry, you’ve probably preached that passage. But have you heard it lately for yourself? There’s a gift in you, a calling. It’s not a career or a platform. It’s not contingent on your followers, your staff culture or even your emotional state. It’s the Spirit-empowered, God-ordained invitation to participate in the building up of Christ’s church. And yes, it can flicker. But it can also burn bright again.
Paul knows what Timothy is up against, and yet he doesn’t coddle him. He says, “God hasn’t given us a spirit of fear,” which literally means cowardice, timidity, the kind of shrinking back that makes us mute when we’re meant to speak or passive when we’re meant to lead.
Instead, we’ve been given a spirit of power, of courageous boldness. A spirit of love—the capacity to lay down our lives for the sheep. And a spirit of self-control—the maturity and steadiness that doesn’t get tossed by every wave of criticism or controversy. Now more than ever the church needs this kind of leadership: courageous and convictional, but also tender and wise.
The Overcomer
In Revelation 2–3, Jesus addresses seven churches, each with its own set of strengths and weaknesses. At the end of each letter, he makes a promise “to the one who overcomes.” And the reward is not comfort, power or applause. It’s intimacy with him. It’s participation in his eternal reign. It’s belonging.
The overcomer, in Scripture, isn’t the one who wins every battle. It’s the one who refuses to bow to fear or compromise. It’s the one who remains faithful when it would be easier to quit. It’s the one who repents when they sin, who rises when they fall, and who keeps showing up even when they’re tired of showing up.
You don’t overcome by being louder than the culture. You overcome by being rooted in Christ. You overcome by living in the story of the cross and resurrection, where weakness is strength and death is the doorway to life. In my own life, I’ve walked with women who led through loss, men who stayed when everyone else left, leaders who bore scars from betrayal but kept loving the people of God. These are the overcomers who have inspired me—not the platformed or polished, but the persevering.
Courageous and Convictional Leadership
Let me offer three simple but weighty characteristics of the kind of leadership this moment requires:
1. Resilience Over Relevance
For the last two decades, relevance has been a dominant value in church leadership. And in many ways, that impulse was good. We want to speak the language of the culture, remove unnecessary barriers and meet people where they are. But relevance without resilience makes for a brittle church. It’s like building a house of straw in a hurricane.
We need pastors who can withstand criticism, rejection and confusion without losing their center. Who don’t crumble when the crowd thins or when they’re misunderstood. Who can hold the line on gospel clarity even when it costs them relational capital or institutional momentum. Resilience doesn’t mean rigidity. It means rootedness. It means drinking deeply from the Word of God, cultivating the hidden life with Jesus, and surrounding yourself with friends who care more about your holiness than your image.
2. Faithfulness Over Fame
If it’s not online, did it even happen?
Our digital world rewards visibility, but Jesus never told us to build brands. He told us to make disciples. Fame is fickle, and the pursuit of it can warp your soul. But faithfulness—showing up, loving people, preaching the Word, praying for the sick, counseling the hurting, correcting with grace—will bear fruit that remains.
When Paul writes to Timothy, he doesn’t say, “Go viral.” He says, “Preach the Word … in season and out of season” (2 Tim. 4:2). That means there will be seasons when no one applauds, when your numbers shrink, when your energy is gone. And that’s when faithfulness matters most. The heroes of heaven won’t be the most followed. They’ll be the most faithful.
3. Presence Over Performance
There’s enormous pressure today to perform in ministry: to be the next great communicator, the visionary leader, the church-growth expert. And in chasing all that, we can lose the thing our people need most: our presence.
The ministry of Jesus was marked by presence. He walked. He lingered. He noticed. He wept. He asked questions. He stayed. Our people don’t need us to be impressive. They need us to be present. To sit with them in grief. To celebrate their growth. To hold their hands when the healing doesn’t come.
In my own ministry, I’ve found that presence—actual physical, emotional, spiritual nearness—has often done more than any sermon could.
Hope for the Weary Shepherd
If you’re reading this and feeling disqualified because of your weariness, hear me: Your tiredness is not your failure. You are not alone. You are not the only one who feels out of step with the culture or overwhelmed by the needs around you.
You don’t have to have all the answers, but you do have to keep walking. Keep praying. Keep shepherding. Keep overcoming.
In John 16:33, Jesus says, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” That’s not just a comfort. It’s a commission. We are not the Overcomer. He is. But we are united to him, which means we can lead with courage, not because we’re fearless, but because he is faithful.
So fan into flame the gift of God. Lead with conviction. Love your people. Tell the truth. And when you fall—because you will—get up again. Not because you’re strong, but because he is.
The world doesn’t need more celebrity pastors. It needs more overcomers. And by grace, that’s exactly who we are becoming.
