Are Pastors Really Supposed to Treat Church Members Like Their Kids?

Paul’s apostolic ministry was marked by persevering love for the church, like that of a parent for their children. The inner workings of his heart are visible in 2 Corinthians 12:14–15:

Here for the third time, I am ready to come to you. And I will not be a burden, for I seek not what is yours but you. For children are not obligated to save up for their parents, but parents for their children. I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls. If I love you more, am I to be loved less?

Paul has been hurt deeply by the Corinthians, but he’s willing to expose himself to further pain—even as he longs for their love in return (2 Cor. 6:11–13).

If you’ve been a parent—or a pastor—for any length of time, you can resonate with Paul’s words. You give and give and give. You lay down your life for your children. In return, they can have a way of breaking your heart—especially wayward children like the Corinthians.

A young missionary couple who has a young child and another on the way recently told me, “Parenting is so hard.” They said it with a note of surprise and exhaustion in their voice—the kind of surprise that’s common for parents who’ve just had their world turned upside down by a toddler.

What I didn’t tell them in the moment is that it doesn’t get any easier the older the kids get. Parenting little kids is physically draining. But as kids grow up, it becomes hard in different ways. Drama at school, learning how to drive and (hopefully) not wreck the family car, and rivalries among siblings are just some of the ways that parenting can be emotionally draining. Older kids can also break your heart in ways younger children never do. The same is true in ministry.

The primary metaphor for the church in the New Testament is the family. On virtually every page of the New Testament, church members are referred to as brothers and sisters with the entire church body being called “the household of God.” It shouldn’t surprise us, then, that a significant metaphor for Paul’s apostolic ministry was parenting:

• “For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers. For I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel. I urge you, then, be imitators of me. That is why I sent you Timothy, my beloved and faithful child in the Lord” (1 Cor. 4:15–17).
• “For I feel a divine jealousy for you, since I betrothed you to one husband” (2 Cor. 11:2).
• “My little children, for whom I am again in the anguish of childbirth until Christ is formed in you!” (Gal. 4:19)
• “Though we could have made demands as apostles of Christ . . . we were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children. So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us” (1 Thes. 2:7–8)
• “For you know how, like a father with his children, we exhorted each one of you . . .” (1 Thes. 2:11–12)

The church is a family. Thus, church ministry looks a lot like parenting.

You may ask, “Is it appropriate for us—whether pastors or missionaries—to view ourselves as parental figures even if we’re not among the first apostles?” To that, I’d simply note, Paul often uses the first-person plural “we.” He refers to his missionary team, not just himself, as taking this parental posture in ministry; this wasn’t unique to Paul.^{11 .} You may also wonder, “Is this parental language reserved for those who personally lead others to Christ? After all, Paul said the Corinthians had multiple guides but not many fathers. To that, I’d say, in one sense, yes. If we lead someone to Christ, we are uniquely his or her father or mother in the faith. But as I just suggested in answer to the first question, that doesn’t mean we can’t take a parental disposition in our ministry among those we haven’t personally led to faith. Along those lines, in 1 Timothy 3, Paul says elders and deacons should be those who manage their households well because those same traits are necessary to oversee the household of God. Also in 1 Timothy 5, Paul instructs younger believers to treat older believers as mothers or fathers. Familial relations, therefore, give us a pattern for ecclesial relations.

Now, if we agree that parenting is hard and that ministry is like parenting, then we shouldn’t be surprised that church ministry is hard. I take it as a great comfort that even the apostle Paul had disciples who made a mess of things.

Brothers in ministry, have you been there? Have you been burned by your spiritual family? Have you been hurt by those closest to you?

If so, you’re in good company. But it’s not enough to recognize that this experience was shared by Paul—and even by our Savior. We need to take the next step toward a positive response—to embody the enduring love of a parent.

In 2 Corinthians 12:14–15, I see five characteristics of Paul’s persistent and parental love for the church.

1. Caring

Paul’s care for the church is displayed in the phrase, “I seek not what is yours but you.” Paul wasn’t in this relationship for what he could get out of it. Specifically, he wasn’t in it for their money. His desire, like that of any good parent, was for the good of his children.

Have you ever known a parent who was selfish or greedy? It’s heartbreaking to watch. A mom who bemoans all the ways her children limit her freedom. A dad who makes his personal aspirations the center of his children’s lives. Parents who demand from their children but never dote on them. Parenting isn’t about taking advantage of children like ministry isn’t about “fleecing the flock.” Instead, an essential part of both vocations is care.

Brothers, has your heart become hard? Or is it still tender and warm with the affection of a mother who cares for her children?

2. Responsible

The responsibility that Paul takes for the Corinthians is apparent from his parental analogy. He says, “I will not be a burden” to you, not only because he cares for them, but also because “children are not obligated to save up for their parents, but parents for their children.” Paul doesn’t think it’s the Corinthians’ responsibility, first and foremost, to provide for him. That responsibility falls to the parent, not the child.

In my years of living and serving among different cultures, one question I’ve often received is, “Is it true that American parents kick their kids out of the home when they turn 18?”

Apparently, Americans are known for expecting a lot from their children. To much of the world, our rugged individualism presents as uncaring—maybe even as un-Christian. Now, I’m not going to try to defend or critique the American approach to parenting. I simply want to observe that much of the world assumes parents will take responsibility for the well-being of their children for much longer than Americans typically do. Whatever the stage of the Corinthians’ growth and maturation in the faith, Paul still clearly saw himself as having some measure of parental responsibility for their well-being.

3. Willing

Paul tells the Corinthians, “I’m ready to come to you. I will gladly be spent for you. I seek you.” You don’t get the sense someone is twisting Paul’s arm to care for this church.

Soon after we had our first child, I realized my wife was doing all the work in the middle of the night. She was getting up to nurse our son, change him, and put him back to bed. Being the good husband that I was, I offered to give her a night off. “Just have a bottle ready, and I’ll take care of the rest,” I said.

To my surprise, that evening happened to be the first time our son slept through the night. I woke up so pleased. I had been willing to sacrifice. But praise the Lord, I didn’t have to. I rolled over and said to my wife with a little sheepish delight, “Can you believe he slept through the night?”

She looked at me incredulous. Turns out, our son did wake up in the night. When he started crying, my wife started nudging me. She pushed me. She elbowed me. But I never woke up. She called out to me, “Elliot, wake up.” I said, “No.” (I have no memory of that!)

In theory, I was willing to help. But in practice, I was no help. Paul was willing, and that willingness translated into active, engaged, persistent, loving ministry. Nobody needed to elbow him out of bed.

Brothers, are you serving Christ’s family cheerfully?

4. Sacrificial

Paul’s sacrificial nature comes out in the words “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls.” The great Scottish preacher Robert Murray M’Cheyne often repeated the phrase from 2 Corinthians 12:15: “to spend and be spent.”

Ministry exacts a cost. You labor. You give. You sacrifice. Many times, you do so without thanks or recognition. You might even do so at the threat of suffering or persecution.

But you don’t just spend in ministry. You are spent. In my experience, missionaries often struggle with this reality. We’ve made our sacrifices. We’ve left our families and the familiar to serve in hard places. Yet God still allows hard things to enter our lives. We’re okay as long as we get to choose what we spend. We’re often not so happy when God chooses.

But this is gospel ministry. You labor. Others benefit. You give. Others take. You sacrifice—only to have people expect more from you than you’d planned to give.

Isn’t that exactly what parenting is like? You sacrifice to put food on the table, only to have your kids beg for more or better food. You pay school fees, only to have your kids ask for spending money. This is just the way it is. Sacrifice in ministry isn’t just about what you’re willing to give; it’s also about what you’re willing to take for others.

5. Vulnerable

Finally, Paul was vulnerable: “If I love you more, am I to be loved less?”

If you minister with persistent and parental love, you will eventually get burnt. While it’s normal and appropriate for parents “to be spent,” sometimes we’re spent by others in ways that are harmful and inconsiderate. Sometimes people will use and abuse you. Sometimes they’ll fail to love you in return, as it seems to be the case in Corinth.

I’ve seen pastors and missionaries deal with that reality in different ways. You can withdraw. You might persevere but do so at a safe distance emotionally and relationally. You might become self-protective and withhold your love. You might become cynical and calloused. You can start to expect the worst, and when the worst happens, it doesn’t even hurt anymore—because you no longer open yourself up to be hurt.

But not Paul. He was vulnerable. When he was not loved in return, it hurt. Does that mean Paul was weak or self-serving? No, it just means Paul loved like any good parent loves.

As C. S. Lewis wrote:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

Have you smothered your heart in hobbies, little luxuries, and emotional escapes? Have you locked it up in a safe and thrown away the key? Have you so protected yourself from being burned that you’ve effectively prevented yourself from ever feeling anything?

The only way any of us can love like this is by the power of Christ’s love in us. It’s only by realizing that he has first loved us. His love is caring, responsible, willing, sacrificial, and vulnerable, even to the point of washing the feet of those who only hours later would betray and abandon him.

The Reward of Perseverant Love

Yes, ministry is hard. Yes, ministry hurts. But ministry is also incredibly rewarding. When we show this kind of love to our church members, we’re not just opening ourselves to heartbreak. We’re also opening up ourselves to joy.

As the apostle John would write, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth” (3 John 4). From the context, we know those aren’t John’s physical offspring he’s talking about. It’s the church. For John, there was no greater joy than to watch his spiritual children walk with Christ! The path to such amazing joy is a persistent and parental love for the church—love that’s caring, responsible, willing, sacrificial, and vulnerable.

When I think about Paul’s apostolic example, I don’t often think about love. I think about his great accomplishments, his great faith, and his great suffering. Yet it’s his love for the troubled and troubling Corinthian church that perhaps inspires me the most. It’s that same love that Christ calls us to.