Pastors Get Depressed Too

“You pastors are all the same,” the counselor said, opening the door so I could leave. “You wait too long to get help. Bart, you should have been here six months ago.” He smiled at me, shook my hand, and I left. My first counseling appointment for depression was finished, as were my failed efforts to fix myself by myself.

Too often it is assumed that pastors are immune to such mental ailments as depression or anxiety.  It is thought that their connection with God should be sufficient to sustain them. If a pastor does, in fact, succumb to a mental ailment, it is evidence that their relationship with the Lord is deficient in some way. Personally, I have never subscribed to that train of thought – at least consciously. But subconsciously, it has felt true. Shouldn’t the solution to mental issues be found in prayer or at the altar or in fasting and meditating on scripture? After all, there are many awe-inspiring testimonies of people being delivered by God through all these things. Yet by early 2021, I had done all I knew how to do spiritually, and it still felt like the wheels were coming off of my life.

Looking back, it is clear why despair crept in when it did. The way in which I conducted ministry left me constantly depleted with no reserve for emergencies. When the pandemic hit, it took an intense and sustained effort for me to lead well through the controversies and challenges. The church recovered nicely. I didn’t.

My mentality became progressively darker. By the time 2021 arrived, all the exits from my downward spiral toward darkness seemed to be barred shut. It affected everything: my family, the church, even my physical health. My behavior was noticeably different – I was losing the ability to act like myself, let alone be myself. It seemed there was no way out, and my despair had become so strong that I was becoming worried my family and church would get caught in the inevitable implosion. 

In prayer, I asked God to release me from ministry. The church needed an attentive and functional pastor, and I was no longer that person. But in prayer, God very clearly denied my request. This happened repeatedly. At the time I couldn’t understand why God felt so silent and distant when I asked Him to lift my darkness yet responded loud and clear when it came to my staying in ministry. Nonetheless, I knew I needed to have a discussion with my board of elders.

I have never dreaded a board meeting as much as I did that one. A “Personal Update” was at the bottom of the agenda. When we reached that part of the meeting, the room grew silent. I struggled for the words to open the conversation, and gradually they came. The elders listened without a word as their pastor – the one who should have it all together – told them of his mental struggles. I confessed that I was still declining and was at a loss as to what to do. My wife also shared some candid observations. I ended with the fact that I had prayed and prayed but felt I wasn’t supposed to resign. 

One of the elders broke the silence: “I don’t think you are supposed to resign either. But you can’t go on like this.” One by one, the elders proceeded to ask careful questions and share helpful comments. They lovingly (but quite firmly) directed me to outside counseling. I remember one elder gently bringing up the fact that I have directed dozens of people to counseling over the years and that I should not resist when the same was being done for me. I agreed with her though I dreaded meeting with a counselor. The elders prayed for me and the meeting concluded. I reluctantly found a counselor familiar with clergy issues and made an appointment.

When the topic of pastoral depression comes up among church leaders, I try to share two points in case someone is struggling under the radar. First, outside counseling is invaluable. Pastors have many reasons (or excuses) for resisting it. I certainly did. But past a certain point, we cannot fix ourselves.  It’s like asking a cardiologist to perform open heart surgery on themselves; it doesn’t work. The second point I try to make is that there should be a trusted church leader who regularly checks up on the pastor’s mental wellbeing. Pastors have a tendency to hide their own struggles.

It was in counseling that I began to realize that much of my depression was the result of my own choices. Overwork, a complete lack of ministerial boundaries, self-imposed social isolation, a sedentary lifestyle, and a propensity to worry had all contributed. Progress in changing these habits came slowly (and still does).

Depression has a sinister way of being self-perpetuating. Every effort is harder than it otherwise should be, and I had been inactive for too long. The shock of needing counseling jumpstarted me into action. My efforts were feeble at first: I began to exercise, walking on a trail or treadmill for a mile. I made myself talk to people outside church, even when I didn’t really want to. I began to regulate my self-talk, limit caffeine, and take a proper sabbath. These were very imperfect efforts, and in many cases left me utterly exhausted. But they were the beginning of a journey toward healthy and godly routines – routines that began to push the depression away.

Many months after that pivotal board meeting, I woke up one morning to a strange sensation: I felt rested and full of energy. I was eager to get the day started. I practically jumped out of bed before I took time to recognize that something had changed. What was it? Then the thought hit me: This is what it feels like to look forward to the day. I had completely forgotten what that felt like. The realization hit like an emotional load of bricks, but in a good way. There really is a way out of the darkness!

About the Author

Bart Bentley

Bart Bentley was born and raised in Tujunga, California. After graduating from Eugene Bible College (now New Hope Christian College), he married Erin McElwee, and together they pastored students in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, for sixteen years. In 2013 he accepted a call to become the lead pastor at Journey Church Ministries in Loves Park, Illinois. Bart and Erin have three children; their eldest daughter is currently attending college in Dubuque, Iowa.