Pastor, “My identity is my ministry” will crush you. Know who you are apart from what you do.

Two pastors walk off the platform after the same sermon. In the lobby, one person tells them it was the best message they’ve ever heard, and the next person is madder than a hornet. The first pastor rides that roller coaster all afternoon, up, then crushed. The second one says, “God bless you,” and goes home settled, because he knows who he is. Same lobby. Different belief. Different future. If you’ve ever felt “my identity is my ministry,” let’s untangle who you are from what you do.

The old story: “My identity is my ministry”

I am what I do. What I do is who I am. If I’m accomplishing good things, I feel good about myself. If I’m not hitting goals, I don’t.

Now, there’s a wonderful thing about feeling a sense of accomplishment in your work. The sweat of your brow, a good hard day’s work, that’s a good feeling. Fulfillment in work is fine. Men especially find a lot of worth in what they do. But what you do is simply not who you are. And that’s very hard to pull apart.

What it costs

A good buddy of mine planted and built a successful church. Then he was out of ministry for about four or five months between positions, and he was in a full identity crisis. “I don’t know who I am.” He realized his whole identity was wrapped up in being a pastor, and in the affirmation and the good feeling that came with it. I took him on a trip during that season.

When the jersey comes off, all you can think about are the games you played. It’s almost impossible to take the jersey off. And when you leave, or you’re between roles, or you’ve just taken over a hard new church, those insecurities get amplified.

I should be honest: my own version was different. When I went through my own season of this, it was grief over work I loved, not a crisis of worth. Not every ache is idolatry. But if your worth lives in your ministry, every lobby conversation becomes a verdict on you.

It also makes ministry selfish. If I’m going into the pulpit to get something out of it, to see how it makes me feel, that’s navel-gazing. Why would we get into ministry for us?

Breaking the old story

The book that helped me most here is The Call by Os Guinness. He describes three layers:

• Purpose: to worship God and enjoy Him forever.
• Identity: who I am in Christ. Secure.
• Assignment: what God has put in my hand today.

Trouble starts when identity and assignment get mixed up. Changing the assignment doesn’t change the identity.

There’s a story I love about Greg Laurie riding in a car with Billy Graham after a crusade. Greg is pumping him up: that was the greatest sermon I’ve ever heard. And Billy basically says, “Yeah. That’s the Bible. It’s the gospel.” That’s a healthy place to be. Thank you for saying that, but it’s not about how talented I am. It’s God’s word, and I did my job well.

If your identity is wrapped up in your ministry, there’s probably a little crisis you’re having with God. Something you haven’t found in Christ, so you’re trying to find it in your work. But Jesus satisfies the deepest longings of the soul: salvation, confidence, provision, forgiveness, relief from the burden of shame, even the ability to rest and say, “I’m done for the day.” Put those on people and they will disappoint you. Ministry was never meant to fill a God-sized hole in your heart.

The new belief: I know who I am apart from what I do

I’m in Christ, not in my church’s opinions. I’d rather have the satisfaction of work well done than the insecurity of “how did my church make me feel today?” Less looking cool, more getting to work. I’m not here to take. I’m here to serve and add value, with a sacrifice of praise.

What to do this week

1. Name your three layers. Write down your purpose, your identity, and your current assignment, separately.
2. Notice the leaning. Pay attention to when you’re leaning on how people make you feel, in the lobby, in a text, in a meeting.
3. Stop navel-gazing. Externalize. Look people in the eyes and help them, then go home satisfied when it’s time to go home.

Some days the church will love you. Some days someone’s bad attitude will meet you at the door. Either way, let the work be the work, let Christ be Christ, and let who you are rest secure in Him. Same situation. Different belief. Different future.