Nancy Beach has been in the trenches for years. She knows something about serving others. And she knows a thing or two about how to keep doing ministry when people’s negativity threatens your reason for serving in the first place. Nancy offers key steps to keeping ministry vibrant: know your role, keep the flame alive, and find others who can do the same.

It is necessary for all of us in ministry to go through a “loss of innocence” in regard to our expectations. At the beginning, we are naïve. We may think that because we are in the church or a Christian organization, we won’t be working with sinners or complicated people. It is disillusioning when we discover that the church really is filled with sinners.

Part of the loss is coming to terms with the fact that ministry is just plain hard. The evil one is battling against us, and working with volunteers is a lot different than building a corporation. My husband and I joke that ministry would be so easy if it weren’t for people. Real ministry begins when you see that you have to learn how to listen, work through differences, and be unified toward a common vision when everyone has their own individual vision.

Contagious Passion
When challenges arise and disillusionment sets in, passion is essential. I do not think passion is necessarily an inborn trait—I feel it can be caught. Passion is contagious. In general, people are of two kinds: people who are generally pessimistic and those who generate a culture that thrives on opportunity and possibility, and that culture is a reflection of its leaders. Of course, the Holy Spirit indwells us, but he can either be relied upon or he can be squelched by the environment. I admire people who are in an environment where they are one of the only people with passion. It shows that they are trying to keep the light burning without the advantage of being in a helpful culture.

Passion can also have its ebbs and flows. If you made a chart, passion definitely would go up and down in various seasons of our lives. A time of self-examination and prayer is required to know the cause of lost passion. I ask, Is there something going on I haven’t taken care of in my soul? Is it time for me to redefine my role in some way? Or, Does it have to do with a lack of vibrant community in my life? I need to be meaningfully connected to the people with whom I serve. If it becomes a task and we’re not really in each other’s lives, I lose enthusiasm quickly.

Centeredness in Christ
Finally, leaders perpetuate a passion that overcomes the inevitable obstacles. So when I look for leaders, I look for their shining eyes. This means someone who first and foremost loves God (Matt. 22:37), then loves the church (1 John 3:23), and demonstrates optimism (Phil. 4:12). I also look for people who are okay with change. That’s not a good or bad part of character; however, people who struggle with wanting life to be ordered just won’t thrive in ministry.

I also look for people who accept that they cannot do this by themselves (Gal. 6:2). They are natural team-builders who are not afraid to surround themselves with people who might even be better than them at something. People who exhibit an inner security or centeredness—a strong sense of identity in Christ—are also more likely to stay the course.

Even years into ministry, you’ll still be working on that—just like I am.

Now you’re a student. Soon enough, school will be over. Full-time ministry awaits, and finally you’ll be able to put everything you have learned in the classroom into practice.

But are you really ready?

Pastor and author Eugene Peterson recently spoke with Ministry Mentor about what seminary students should prepare for when they leave the ivory towers and enter the complex world of the local church.

How have you experienced God’s calling?
I grew up in a Christian home, so I always had a sense that “this is my work,” but I never knew exactly what it would be. I always thought I’d be a professor and then a missionary. The way I became a pastor was quite circumstantial and gradual. I started out as a professor, and I left it quite early. I liked teaching and I liked the academic world, but I always felt like I was a coach; I wanted to be on the playing field.

I realized at one point that being a pastor is what I always wanted to do. Finally, the church, my life, and my background became synchronized—came together into sharp focus. Then there was no question.

How did writing fit into that call?
What surprised me was that my work as a writer almost perfectly meshed with my pastoral role. I realized I couldn’t be one without the other. Because I really had no models for the pastor/writer vocation, it took three to four years to work it out. But gradually things just worked together—they fit.

Were you passionate about preaching?
I didn’t have a passion for speaking but a passion for the local church. I liked being in a place where everything is being worked out in front of your eyes or you’re a participant in it. I never had a sense that I had something I was going to do for people; it was always something I was going to do with people. I could only do it in relationship with a local place where I knew the people’s names.

Do you have to be passionate to fulfill God’s calling?
I think so. I get a little worried about the word passion, but you’ve got to have some sense that this is the meaning of your life and you cannot live your life well apart from this. If that’s what you mean by passion, then yes.

Do you understand God’s call differently from when you were in your 20s?
Not really. It has deepened. And it has become more comprehensive. Though I haven’t been a pastor of a congregation for 15 years, I always surprise myself when after people ask me what I do I say, “I’m a pastor.”

The pastor identity has deepened through the years; I am just as much or more of a pastor now than I ever was, except that I don’t have a local congregation. My congregation has widened considerably—it’s all over the world. When I am writing, I am writing as a pastor.

Are seminaries doing a good job developing this pastor identity?
I am uneasy with the academic world, because I think most professors in seminaries have never been pastors. So students are learning to study and interpret all this material but without a pastoral context. There are a few exceptions, but basically the academic world for seminaries is shaped by secular academic expectations. The students are overworked. They don’t have time to think, pray, imagine, or even develop relationships. The context in which they are doing their learning is different from the way they are going to be living.

What is the result of that?
Seminarians often don’t know what to do when they’re placed in their first church. They enter into a parish and they have very little experience with prayer and intimate relationships. They have a terrible time, for the most part, finding out how to make that shift from years and years of being in institutionalized academic studies, shaped by the secular world, to real-world ministry.

How would you counsel seminarians who aren’t getting that pastoral context in the classroom?
I would counsel them to go slow, because a mature call is organic to your life and to your circumstances. Enthusiasms don’t last long.

I’d also like to spend time de-romanticizing the ministry. It’s hard work, and it’s very demanding. There needs to be a strong sense of wanting to develop as a Christian, not just as a professional. It’s easy to do things to qualify yourself for professional ministry, especially if you are bright. But they have nothing to do with the way you are living.

I’d ask, “What kind of person do you want to be in 20 years?” Forget about ministry, just what kind of a person do they want to be, because there is no place in the world that you can fake it easier as a Christian than as a pastor.

What happens if they’re not prepared for this reality?
If no one warns you, you can go on for 10-15 years and think you’re doing great, and then suddenly you are hollow—nothing’s left. That’s what happens with many pastors—they go off the rails at that point. It’s an empty life, and they need some way to make it more interesting.

My hope is that spiritual theology, what I call “lived theology,” would become much more central to a pastor’s life and they would see that this is the way they’ve got to live.

When I entered seminary four years ago, I knew one thing: I loved to teach. I was fearful, however, as I transitioned from corporate America to seminary—I taught Oracle Financials, not books of the Bible. Entering a world of Bible brainiacs, I thought, How am I ever going to teach the Bible?

God has an incredible sense of humor as He distributes His gifts—even to those without theological pedigree. And our responsibility is to follow the call He places in our hearts. But how do we know that our call is real?

A Call That’s Life-Giving
For me, I knew teaching was my primary call because it was life-giving. Frightening at times, yes, but life-giving nonetheless.

I soon learned that life-giving does not equal painless. Life-giving opportunities energize you, and you anticipate them without dread. They reveal your strengths and weaknesses.

In my own life, teaching stretches me, humbles me, and drives me toward prayer and dependence on God. I look forward to the interaction with my students because I always learn something new from them. Through this process of exploration, I’m finding my niche, the place where I will serve God and His people.

A Call That’s Passion-Infusing
A call is also passion-infusing. Teaching keeps me motivated and hungry. A desire for growth and learning propels me to finish this daunting race.

I empathize with feelings of loss or disillusionment. There were points along my journey when I wanted to drive to the desert with my dog, never to return. It’s a real experience. Most, if not all, of us feel this desperation at some point along the way. But through the spiritual deserts, God refines our passions and our character.

When I was wandering in my desert, a quiet resolve—enabled by the Holy Spirit—kept me from abandoning the race. It refueled my passion, and my passion reaffirmed my call.

Figuring It All Out
So what's your passion? What's life-giving? Figure that out and be proactive about finding opportunities to exercise your gifts. Being proactive allows God to open or close doors. If repeated thoughts continue to surface regarding an area of ministry, go with your instincts. Use seminary as a time of exploration, especially of uncharted waters.

Seminary will possibly make you question your call. I often question if I can really make an impact through teaching. I’m still wrestling, but that’s the key. This is the time to wrestle freely and honestly. Through teaching at my local church God has shaped my core beliefs—and reaffirmed His call.

The seminary journey has been the most challenging and humbling experience of my life as well as the most rewarding. The journey fortifies God’s call on our lives. It drives us towards vulnerability and complete dependence on Him. We must ask ourselves, “Am I comfortable with exploration?” and “Am I confident enough to be proactive?” It can be ominous, but by taking such risks we persevere in faith.