The Ministry You Can't Measure

Most mornings, I start my day with my bare feet in the grass and the sun on my face.

Fifteen minutes. No phone. No agenda. Just breathing, listening, being.

It sounds small, but it grounds me—literally and spiritually. Because somewhere along the way, like a lot of pastors I know, I lost my footing. The weight of ministry shifted me off center. What used to anchor me—vision, passion, relationships—got buried beneath strategy meetings and sermon deadlines.

Maybe that’s you, too.

You didn’t mean to drift. You didn’t plan to become more familiar with your inbox than your Bible, more fluent in spreadsheets than shepherding. But the drift happens. The calling that once burned like fire now flickers in the background while the calendar runs the show.

I hear it in nearly every coaching call and every cohort I lead, “I feel disconnected.” Not just from God, but from themselves, from their people, from what ministry used to mean.

The Pulpit Can’t Replace the Pasture

Somewhere along the way, the platform became a substitute for presence. The pulpit became a shortcut around the pasture.

You start off wanting to make an impact. You dream about helping people become fully alive in Christ. But over time, the job grows—and so do the expectations. It’s easy to confuse effectiveness with busyness. It’s easy to forget that ministry isn’t about being the best. It’s about bringing out the best in others. I didn’t always get that.

I used to believe that if I wasn’t leading it, teaching it, planning it, tweaking it—then it wouldn’t be good enough. Until I realized the most powerful thing I could do wasn’t to be essential. It was to become… unneeded. That’s right. I started aiming for planned obsolescence.

Because real ministry—Jesus-style ministry—isn’t about permanence. It’s about reproduction. It’s not about making sure everyone depends on you. It’s about training them to not need you at all. 

This isn’t about working less. It’s about working differently.

You weren’t called to be a professional Christian who manages religious output. You were called to love God’s people. To feed His sheep. To walk among the flock, not manage them from a distance.

I wonder—what if your calendar began to reflect that truth more? What if 50% of your time was spent in the field—being with people, not just producing for them? What if the desk didn’t get your first and best hours? What if relationships did?

I know what you’re thinking, “That’s impossible.”
Or maybe, “Then everything would fall apart.”
Or, “I’d never get anything done.”

But let’s name what’s really underneath that thinking: fear.

Fear that if you stop running, the whole thing collapses.
Fear that your worth is tied to your output.
Fear that being with people instead of leading them might make you... invisible.

Let me lovingly challenge that. Jesus didn’t call you to build a brand. He called you to lay down your life. He didn’t ask you to manage programs. He said, “Feed my sheep.” He didn’t command you to go viral. He invited you to go slow. What if the invisible work—listening, visiting, walking, praying, slowing—was the most valuable thing you did all week? 

Start By Touching Grass

That’s why I start each day barefoot in the grass. Not because I’m into trendy wellness hacks, but because I need something real. I need to remember that ministry doesn’t start with metrics. It starts with presence. And before I can be present to others, I have to be present to God—and to myself.

You don’t need to move to a farm to find that again. But maybe you do need to step outside. Out of your office. Out of the constant noise. Out of the idea that ministry only happens behind a mic or inside a meeting. You need space to hear your own heart again.

That might mean making a hospital visit before returning emails. It might mean showing up unannounced at a volunteer’s house to say thank you. It might mean praying in silence instead of scrolling for sermon inspiration.

Because when you spend time in the field, something shifts. You start remembering what called you in the first place. You stop managing people and start loving them. And slowly, the ministry starts to fit your life—instead of your life getting swallowed by the ministry.

Let Jesus Carry the Heavy Stuff

Here’s the hardest part to believe, but it’s the most freeing:

You’re not responsible for the outcomes. You’re responsible to love well, serve faithfully, and let go of the illusion of control.

That’s why I built the WholeCare™ framework and why our cohorts exist—not to add more to your plate but to help you reorder the plate entirely. To help you remember who you are when the job isn’t consuming you. To walk alongside other pastors who are saying no to the hustle and yes to a healthier way.

We don’t have a secret formula. But we’ve got stories. We’ve got space. And we’ve got a seat for you. Reserve your spot now. Because you were never meant to do this alone. And you were never meant to do it all.

So close your computer. Lace up your boots. And get back in the field where the real ministry takes place.◼︎ 

Tim Eldred has spent over 35 years in pastoral ministry and coaches pastors and churches who are ready to move beyond merely surviving. He founded The Authentic Pastor to help ministry leaders find freedom from the pressures and systems that wear them down.