Here is a sentence I wish someone had said to me in my first year of ministry: nobody will ask about your heart.
Not at the day job, where your prayer life is invisible and has nothing to do with your performance review. Not at church, where you are the one expected to care for everyone else’s soul. Not most of the people who depend on you, who quietly assume that because you’re close to ministry, your soul must be well cared for.
That assumption is dangerous. The person most at risk of neglecting his own spiritual life is the one so busy giving it away that he forgets to receive. That’s why pastor soul care can’t be left to chance. And for the bi-vocational pastor, with two full-time commitments pressing in, it is the discipline that decides whether you last.
What slipping looks like
In twenty-five years I have had seasons of deep, steady soul care and seasons of running on empty. The difference between them was never how much ministry I was doing. It was how much time I was spending in the quiet place.
When I was getting up early enough to pray, journal, and read Scripture before the day began, I was tired but alive. The reservoir was being filled even while it was being poured out.
When I let it slide, it happened quietly. The 4 AM alarm became 5 AM. The journal went unwritten. Prayer shrank from a conversation to a quick request on the way out the door.
Here is what I learned about those seasons. My wife would notice within a few weeks. My closest friends within a month or two. The church might not notice for months. But I knew almost right away.
That gap is the danger. You can run on autopilot for a long time. The sermons still get written. The counseling still happens. You still show up where you’re supposed to be. But the life has gone out of it. You are producing output without receiving input, and that cannot last.
Jesus didn’t skip it when things got busy
“And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed” (Mark 1:35).
Look at what came right before that verse. The whole town had gathered at the door the night before, and Jesus healed many and cast out many demons. It was a long, full night of ministry. And the next morning, before anyone else was up, he went off alone to pray.
Jesus modeled that the rhythm of prayer doesn’t get suspended when ministry gets busy. It gets more important. If he needed that time with the Father, we need it more.
Three things it takes
Soul care in a bi-vocational life requires three things that won’t happen on their own.
Time you have to take from something else. You will not find time for soul care in the margins of a bi-vocational life. There are no margins. You have to carve it out. For me that means a 4 AM alarm, which is not a metaphor. It is literally giving up sleep to be with God before the day begins. That isn’t heroic. It’s necessary.
Your hour may look different. It might be your lunch break in the truck, or the first thirty minutes after the kids are asleep. The point is that it has to be taken from something, deliberately, and then protected like an appointment you can’t miss.
Accountability you have to ask for. Nobody is going to volunteer to check on your quiet time. Nobody is going to schedule a meeting to ask about your hidden sin. You have to build those relationships on purpose, give people real permission to ask hard questions, and then be honest when the answer is uncomfortable.
That last part is where most of us fail. We have people with permission to ask. We just give them the polished answer. If you want help thinking about how to give an honest report instead of waiting to be interrogated, Giving Account was written for exactly that.
A willingness to confess failure without living in it. There will be seasons when the discipline slips. The answer isn’t shame and paralysis. The answer is the same thing the discipline is built on: grace. Receive it. Return to the practice. Start again tomorrow morning. Soul care is not a streak you’re trying to protect. It is a relationship you keep coming back to.
Know your warning signs
It helps to know in advance what your own depletion looks like, so you can catch it before your spouse has to. Here are some common ones. Yours may differ.
- You are preparing sermons you haven’t let preach to you first.
- Prayer has become a list of requests and nothing else.
- You are irritable with the people closest to you and patient with everyone else.
- Scripture has become sermon material instead of bread.
- You feel relief when a ministry event gets canceled.
None of these mean you’re a failure. They mean the tank is low. The fix is not more effort. It’s more time with God.
Start with an honest answer
If you do one thing after reading this, sit down with your spouse or a close friend and answer these four questions from the couples’ discussion guide in Second Fiddle:
- What does your current spiritual discipline look like? Be honest, not aspirational.
- Who has permission to ask you about your soul? Who will actually use that permission?
- What has happened in past seasons when your soul care slipped? What were the warning signs?
- Spouse: how do you notice when your partner’s spiritual tank is running low? What do you do with that observation?
The second question matters most. If you can’t name a person, that’s your next step. Call someone this week and ask him to ask you.
Nobody will ask about your heart unless you make it possible. So make it possible. Your people need a pastor whose soul is being fed, and so does your family.