As a pastor’s kid, I was at church most days of the week. I attended nearly every event and held leadership responsibilities at an early age.

Before video projectors, I managed transparencies for worship services. I accompanied my dad as he drove the church van, picking up and dropping off parishioners.

I helped with youth group, participated in weekly door-to-door evangelism, and volunteered six to eight hours every Saturday with an inner-city ministry serving some 700 children.

Ministry came first, and it consumed my adolescence. I tried to play the part of a good pastor’s son. I sacrificed for the church and my dad’s calling, missing out on sports and school activities that conflicted with the church calendar.

My dad didn’t intentionally hurt or neglect me. But because of his own difficult childhood, he fathered from a deficit.

Amid the busyness of ministry, I received little attention or emotional support from my father. At times, he was hard on me.

Dad never thanked me for my work or provided physical affection. Kind words were rare. I can’t even remember a time when my father said, “I love you.”

Pressure to perform was high, and Dad’s expectation was nothing less than perfection. No matter how hard I tried, I never seemed to measure up.

As a result, I grew up with wounds, insecurities, and a deep sense of bitterness. This carried over into adulthood and my own pastoral ministry.

Dysfunction haunted me. My dad and I served as lead pastors in the same district. But I knew we were both broken men in need of healing.

Finding Balance

It is somewhat surprising I became a minister at all. As a kid, I resented the constant intrusion of church into our home life.

When my dad talked excitedly about ministry successes, I couldn’t share his joy. I felt like these wins were my losses since they always seemed to come at my expense.

My siblings and I couldn’t say no to ministry work without feeling guilty. At times, I wondered whether my spiritual life mattered at all. Did everyone just assume I would be OK without guidance or support?

Sometimes I intentionally rebelled to gain attention from my dad. This only frustrated him and made him a harsher disciplinarian.

I remember watching Dad affectionately tousle a boy’s hair during a children’s outreach event and wondering why he never did the same with me.

Over the years, I have discovered I am not alone in these unfulfilled longings. I have talked with a number of people who shared similar stories of growing up in a parsonage feeling overlooked and neglected.

Unfortunately, there is a temptation for church leaders to idolize ministry to the detriment of family.

Home is our first ministry responsibility. If that statement is convicting, it may be time to reevaluate some priorities. It’s possible to climb the ladder of success and discover the ladder was leaning against the wrong wall.

Being a spouse, parent, and minister can feel like a delicate balancing act at times. I haven’t always managed it perfectly. But I’ve tried to learn not only from my dad’s successes at church, but also from his shortcomings at home.

I grew up with wounds, insecurities, and a deep sense of bitterness. This carried over into adulthood and my own pastoral ministry.

Therapy has helped me confront my wounds, as well as deficiencies in my personal life and leadership. It hasn’t been easy, but the journey has helped me grow as a husband, dad, and minister.

I am intentional about maintaining healthy boundaries and carving out time for my family. I am home for dinner most evenings.

My wife, Lori, and I have weekly date nights. In addition to our annual two-week family vacation, we plan smaller couple and family getaways throughout the year.

Our family calendar comes before the church calendar. I frequently hug my kids, Leah and Titus, and tell them how much I love them. I show them they are a priority by attending their events and games.

Lori and I are careful not to place ministry demands on our kids beyond asking them to attend youth group and participate in a ministry of their choosing. We want to give them room to develop their own relationship with God.

I check in regularly with my wife and kids, and they assure me they have not suffered because of my ministry.

Seeking Healing

For better or worse, a parent’s influence extends far beyond childhood. When a father is unaffectionate, absent, or abusive, it leaves lasting emotional scars.

Even while preaching about the Heavenly Father’s love, many church leaders — men and women alike — secretly struggle with unresolved earthly father issues.

This can distort perceptions of God, others, and self, continuing the painful generational cycle and limiting ministry effectiveness.

Those with unresolved childhood trauma may struggle with a lack of empathy, fear of rejection, controlling behaviors, perfectionistic tendencies, or an unhealthy need for approval.

When a pastor is emotionally unhealthy, everyone around him or her suffers. Acknowledging the need for healing is the first step toward wholeness and freedom.

For years, I believed a lie. I thought my dad’s issues were his, not mine. I was convinced that if he fixed himself, it would fix us. Because I didn’t take responsibility for seeking healing, I didn’t see a way out. Waiting for someone to change so I could be happy left me emotionally empty.

When I was in my late 20s, the Lord changed my heart during a church service. Another minister was talking about pastors and fatherhood, and I was scanning the crowd, hoping my dad was present to hear it.

I sensed the Holy Spirit saying, “Your dad’s not here. I want to change you.”

In that moment, I felt the loving embrace of my Heavenly Father and opened my life to His transformational work. Baring my wounds to God and inviting Him to begin the healing process was a turning point.

For me, self-awareness led to God-awareness. I knew I needed to change. And I realized my dependance was on the Lord, not my dad. Proverbs 29:18 says, “Where there is no revelation, people cast off restraint; but blessed is the one who heeds wisdom’s instruction.”

It’s through daily reliance on God that I experience continual restoration. Although my dad died more than three years ago, I am still maturing and healing. I wish I could say I’ve arrived, but I believe it’s a lifelong journey.

If you are struggling with father issues or other wounds from your past, I encourage you to ask your Heavenly Father for strength and guidance.

Practice biblical forgiveness. It’s not a one-time decision, but a daily choice.

Reflect on areas of concealed hurt, examining how they might be affecting your family and church relationships.

Enlist the help of a Christian counselor or other mental health professional.

Don’t let misplaced priorities or unresolved pain derail your life, family, or ministry. Managing it all is tough at times — especially when you’re carrying a heavy emotional load — but you’re not alone. The Father is walking with you every step of the way.

This article appears in the Spring 2024 issue of Influence magazine.