I really used to hate my pastor.
And hate might be the correct word for my emotions at that point.
All he did was tell me what to do. He didn’t see my vision. He didn’t understand my need to change things RIGHT THEN. He just kept on pushing and pushing.
It was super frustrating.
And then, one day, it clicked.
Maybe it was because my dad had died. Maybe it was because I had been working at the church longer. Maybe it was because I matured after a few years.
He wasn’t pushing me because he didn’t like me, thought I was immature, or thought the teenagers could do a better job running the ministry than I could.
He was mentoring me.
Granted it wasn’t the typical way I was used to, but it was still mentoring. He was challenging me to do better. He was pushing me to think deeper. He was grooming me for future ministry.
So I stopped hating him.
And started giving him the respect he deserved all along.
It wasn’t easy, but our relationship grew over the time we spent in ministry together. And we both benefited from it.