The Silent Collapse of The Strong: Trying To Save The Church While Losing Yourself

The Silent Collapse of The Strong

No one talks about what pastors truly endured during the pandemic. While the world reeled from loss and uncertainty, we stood behind pulpits in empty sanctuaries—preaching hope while conducting funerals, comforting others while quietly unraveling inside. The buildings were silent, but our souls were screaming.

There was no manual for leading through that kind of darkness. No book written for the shepherds who kept going—not because we were whole, but because we were expected to be. There was no time to grieve. No space to heal. No permission to say, “I’m not well.”

We bled quietly while bandaging the wounds of others. We carried the weight of the flock, even as our own hearts were breaking. Many of us never took sabbaticals. Some never even took a vacation. Yet, we stayed. We served. We suffered.

This is the story of what it cost—and what it means to be called anyway.