The Shepherd's Heart

Better Together

Jesus looked out at the crowds and said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” I’ve read that verse hundreds of times and quoted it even more. Lately it’s been landing differently. I’m not only seeing a field ready for harvest. I’m seeing the laborers, and how few of us there are.

Most of us are stretched thin, carrying far more than our titles suggest. We preach, counsel, visit the hospital, fix what’s broken, enjoy mowing the lawn, and quietly wonder whether any of it is making a difference. If the laborers are few, every one of them matters: every pastor who stays faithful, every church planter who keeps going, every small-town shepherd nobody has ever heard of.

My Confession

Here is what I need to say plainly: I’m guilty of competing with the very people God has called me to stand beside.

I never called it that. I called it concern, or awareness, or healthy ambition. But when another church was growing and mine was plateauing, what stirred in me wasn’t praise. It was comparison. I’ve said “that’s great” with my mouth while my heart was measuring. I’ve compared my effort to someone else’s increase, and I’ve let it quietly steal my joy. Which has led me to even question my very calling.

That’s what pride does. If my identity is wrapped up in my platform, my numbers, or my name, then someone else’s success feels like my loss. I can’t celebrate them while I’m busy defending myself. That’s not a small flaw. It’s sin, and it’s been sitting in my heart in a place I let it stay. And for that I have repented. 

My Eyes were Open

I was recently at a ministers’ meeting where Psalm 133 was read then we were asked to pray for one another. Out of my mouth came these words: “Lord, strengthen my brothers and sisters, for we are shorthanded and are few among many.”

Those words did something to me. I heard my own prayer and realized I’d been treating my fellow workers like rivals in a field where there are barely enough hands to bring in the crop. When there aren’t enough workers for the harvest, a rival is the last thing the field needs. It needs people who will lock arms.

If one of us is limping, the whole field feels it. If one of us burns out, there’s one fewer person at work, and the need doesn’t shrink to match. And too often lately, we see many fall to personal sins.

My Conviction

Comparison and genuine encouragement can’t live in the same heart for long. One of them has to go. I’m choosing to let go of the one that contends a Kingdom mindset.

The pastors I love being around, the ones who make me want to be better, all have one thing in common: they’re humble. They aren’t trying to be noticed. They’re glad when God uses someone else. They can sit across from you, ask about your church, your family, and your struggles, and actually mean it. They aren’t waiting for their turn to talk or looking for fresh gossip. 

That humility isn’t weakness. It’s freedom. When I have nothing to prove, I’m free to celebrate what God is doing anywhere, through anyone, whether or not my name is attached to it. Their win is a win for the Kingdom, and that’s the only scoreboard that matters.

The Challenge

I’m not writing this to feel better about myself. I’m writing it because I believe if I struggle with these things it is very likely some of you are carrying the same thing but haven’t said it out loud. So here is what I’m committing to, and what I’m asking you to consider:

• Address humility. Asking God to heal our heart first, so we can cheer honestly. 
• Pick up the phone. Call a pastor you haven’t talked to in a while. Don’t ask for anything. Just say, “I’m thankful for you,” or “How are you, really?”
• Celebrate publicly. When another church has a good Sunday, say so, and say it loudly.
• Pray by name. Not “bless the pastors of our city,” but real names and real churches.
• Check on the quiet ones. The pastor who’s struggling usually isn’t posting about it.
• Confess comparison. Tell God, and a trusted friend, when envy shows up. It loses its power in the light.

We Need Each Other

If you’re a pastor reading this and you feel tired or unseen, hear me clearly: you matter, and what you’re doing matters. God sees the faithful work nobody applauds. I’m cheering for you, and I’m sorry for every time I wasn’t.

The harvest is big and the laborers are few. Let’s stop measuring one another and start strengthening one another. Let’s rejoice when others rejoice and finish the work together.