The Overlooked Skills That Make or Break a Pastor, Part 1

Keeping Critical Distance in Familial Conflict

A lot of people want to be pastors because they love ideas, doctrines, and abstractions. They enjoy talking about these things, whether behind a pulpit or over coffee. But many of these men aren’t what you’d call “people persons.” They might be articulate or passionate, but they won’t make good pastors. Then there’s another kind: men who genuinely love people. They care deeply about the spiritual condition of others and want to minister somehow, but they’re not particularly strong with words or sound theology. These men, too, will not make good pastors.

Pastoral ministry requires a man who loves both the people of God and the Word of God, and who has (or can develop) a gift for applying that Word to real life.

That application takes various forms. Most commonly, it’s through preaching and teaching on the Lord’s Day or at other gatherings. But another regular form of application—less glamorous, more difficult—is through conflict management. Especially between family members.

Much of a pastor’s work is helping people deal with differences and sins in accordance with God’s Word. And let’s be honest: we most often sin against those closest to us. There’s simply more opportunity. As the old saying goes, “familiarity breeds contempt.”

So it’s not enough for a pastor to be a good teacher who loves people if by “teaching” we simply mean the communication of information. A faithful pastor must also develop counseling or conflict management skills. Call it what you like. It’s a necessity.

Many of the men I’ve seen get chewed up and spit out in ministry lacked these skills. Some are the “nice guys.” They try to bury conflict, ignore it, downplay it. That never works. The tension only grows.

But there’s another type: the men who see a little fire and totally freak out. They try to stomp it out with aggression, like someone throwing water on a grease fire. These men are attracted to conflict. They want to hit it head-on, not out of courage, but because they lack gentleness. And in their response, they only make things worse.

A pastor has to learn how to live in a constant state of tension. Sometimes it’ll be more intense than others, but the tension is always there. There will always be problems in the church. You can’t ignore the tension, and you can’t obsess over it. You have to live in it. It’s part of the job.

If that’s not something you can grow into, or something you’re willing to work toward, then this is not your calling.

Let me pass on some wisdom that an older pastor once gave me, wisdom I didn’t fully appreciate until I lived through it myself.

Almost a decade ago, I got pulled into a conflict between two brothers-in-law. But the real tension was between their wives, two sisters. What started as a surface-level dispute grew more complicated, and I got more involved. Eventually, I called this older pastor for counsel.

He gave me some helpful thoughts, but near the end he said, “Michael, be careful getting in the middle of family conflicts. When the chips are down, they’ll often turn on you to preserve their own relationship.”

That line stuck with me. And I’ve seen it happen, not just to me, but to other pastors as well. We get brought in (sometimes begged to help) by one or both parties. And yet, when the pressure builds and the heat turns up, suddenly the pastor is the problem. Suddenly, he was meddling. He made things worse. Never mind the thousand other things he was doing. Never mind that he didn’t ask to be in the middle of it.

This is where another layer of pastoral wisdom is required: you must learn to maintain critical distance.

Think of it like boxing. A fighter will throw lots of light jabs, not to hurt, but to measure distance. He’s trying to stay in the sweet spot: not too close to get clobbered, not too far to lose control of the fight. He’s adjusting his range.

Pastors have to do that too.

You have to measure the distance. You need to be close enough to care, to help, to apply God’s Word. But not so close that you get entangled in the drama and dragged into the ditch. If you don’t learn how to do this—how to hold the tension and keep your feet—you’ll end up worn down, bewildered, and wondering how you became the bad guy.

So to circle back: this is why we need more than just theologically trained clergy (if you’ll allow the word). We need men who are seasoned. This is why long internships are so valuable. Why it’s wise to work your way up over time: from assistant to associate to senior pastor.

I know people don’t like those titles. Fine. Call it what you want. But the progression makes sense when you actually understand the work involved.