Meyu Changkiri
The vehicle did not stop because the journey was over. It stopped because the road ahead demanded attention. Deep ruts filled with sticky mud, loose stones scattered beneath the tyres, and a fragile hillside leaning dangerously close made forward movement impossible. There was no shortcut, no quick fix. Progress would come only after stopping, stepping down, and clearing the way by hand.
On a slippery stretch of road between Nagaland and Shillong, what first appeared to be a simple delay slowly unfolded into something deeper. As stones were lifted one by one and mud scraped away to steady the wheels, the moment began to feel familiar. It looked very much like pastoral ministry itself - often interrupted, frequently demanding patience, and requiring unseen effort before any forward movement was possible.
Much like that road, the life of a pastor is rarely smooth, rarely predictable, and seldom understood in its fullness. What people usually see on Sunday mornings is only the point of arrival. The long journey that leads there - marked by unseen labour, difficult decisions, silent prayers, and steady endurance - often remains hidden.
Some journeys we choose. Some journeys choose us.
Pastoral ministry belongs to the latter.
There are journeys we dream of, journeys we plan, and then there are journeys that unfold into our lives as a calling. The life of a pastor often belongs to this second kind - never predictable, never entirely comfortable, but always meaningful. To many, pastoral ministry appears calm and orderly: a life of preaching, praying, and offering spiritual guidance. Yet beyond the Sunday pulpit lies a world of unseen roads - some rough, some lonely, and some demanding far more than words can easily explain.
For many pastors, ministry is not lived on polished floors or well-paved streets. It is lived on muddy paths, steep slopes, slippery corners, and roads threatened by landslides. It unfolds on rickety bridges connecting remote villages, in modest homes where grief sits quietly, and beside hospital beds where hope feels fragile. A pastor’s journey is not one of ease, but of endurance - a road less travelled, yet deeply shaping.
This is not the story of one pastor alone.
It is the quiet story of many who serve faithfully across difficult roads every day.
The Road That Shapes a Shepherd
Some mornings begin with a plan - visits to make, people to meet, sermons to prepare. But ministry, with its many interruptions, often reshapes the day. A phone call comes: someone is sick, a family is struggling, a youth is drifting, a marriage is breaking, or a sudden loss has shaken a household. The pastor’s schedule bends not because of pressure, but because of compassion. The road calls - and the shepherd goes.
And many times, that road is quite literal.
Pastors travel narrow hill roads where the vehicle feels as though it is balancing on hope. They push bikes through sticky mud that clings stubbornly to the tyres. They drive through fog so thick that each bend feels uncertain. There are days when landslides block the way, and the only option is to step out and clear the debris - stone by stone, branch by branch.
In such moments, ministry becomes a living picture. Every blocked road reflects the emotional and spiritual obstacles people carry in their hearts. Every stone lifted reminds us that God’s work often lies beyond comfort and convenience.
When the Road Teaches the Pastor
People usually see the pastor on Sunday - calm, composed, holding a Bible. What they do not see are the muddy shoes, the tired hands, the sweat-soaked shirts, or the quiet prayers whispered on lonely roads. They do not hear the questions that rise along the way:
Will I reach it in time?
Will the road hold?
Is it wise to keep going?
These unseen journeys are not wasted. They become lessons in themselves.
A blocked path teaches patience. Waiting becomes unavoidable. Detours become necessary. The ministry teaches the same truth: people heal slowly, hearts soften gradually, and spiritual growth takes time.
Mud teaches humility. It has a way of staining even the most confident traveller. The Ministry does the same. A pastor learns he is not the hero, but a servant in God’s story.
Dangerous roads teach dependence. Strength alone is never enough. Prayers become honest and urgent. The ministry echoes this clearly: only God changes lives.
Hard journeys teach compassion. A pastor understands people’s struggles more deeply because he too carries weight along the way.
The Hidden Wounds of a Pastor
The challenges of pastoral ministry are not limited to tiredness or travel. Many of the deepest struggles emerge quietly within relationships, expectations, and trust.
There are moments when decisions must be made quickly, often with limited information and little time. Such choices are rarely careless. They are prayed over, weighed carefully, and carried with a sense of responsibility. Yet from the outside, only the decision is seen - not the burden behind it, nor the sleepless nights that followed.
Over time, many pastors learn that leadership also means learning to walk carefully. Words are chosen more thoughtfully. Actions are weighed more deliberately. Faithfulness becomes less about being noticed and more about remaining steady - doing what is right even when understanding comes slowly.
Pastors also discover that perceptions often travel faster than truth. A single misstep may be remembered longer than years of quiet service. Decisions are discussed, while intentions remain unseen. In such moments, ministry teaches an important lesson: a shepherd cannot control every story, but must guard his character.
There are times when trust is given freely and later found to be misplaced. Kindness may be misunderstood. Patience may be stretched thin. Ministry reveals both genuine companionship and quiet self-interest. Along the way, pastors learn the importance of healthy boundaries - not to limit love, but to sustain it.
Some of the most painful moments arise not from distant voices, but from those close at hand. When roles are unclear, expectations overlap, or authority is misunderstood, unity can be tested. These situations require wisdom more than reaction, humility more than argument, and patience more than quick answers.
There are also moments when pastors choose to carry responsibility that is not fully theirs - to protect the church, to calm tensions, or to preserve peace. Such choices are rarely dramatic. They are quiet acts of surrender, where personal defence is set aside for the sake of reconciliation.
Much of this remains unseen. Discouragement is rarely announced. Fatigue is managed quietly. Tears are wiped away before stepping into public ministry. The pulpit often receives a composed shepherd, even when the week behind him has been heavy.
Yet these hidden wounds are not without purpose. They deepen empathy, sharpen discernment, and refine motives. Over time, pastors learn that calling is sustained not by constant approval, but by quiet faithfulness. God sees what others overlook.
These experiences shape the shepherd far more deeply than easy seasons ever could.
Clearing the Way, One Rock at a Time
Pastoral ministry often resembles clearing a landslide. Some obstacles are small - misunderstandings, frustrations, discouragements. Others are heavy - broken families, addictions, unresolved guilt, community crises. Pastors become quiet labourers, removing obstacles so others may walk toward healing.
Clearing the way is tiring work. Hands get dirty. Backs ache. Progress feels slow. But when the path opens, even slightly, relief follows. The Ministry works in the same way. Everything cannot be fixed at once, but one person can be helped at a time - through one prayer, one conversation, one visit, one act of love.
Sometimes the work is done alone. At other times, help appears - fellow leaders, church members, even unexpected companions. Ministry was never meant to be carried alone. God often provides support in quiet and surprising ways.
The Beauty Behind the Hard Road
We often imagine beauty only on mountaintops. Yet in ministry, beauty appears in unexpected places - on muddy roads, in quiet tears, in long conversations, and in small but genuine breakthroughs.
Hard journeys reveal community. Delays invite conversation. Shared effort builds connection. Ministry grows through relationships formed in interruptions.
They also gather stories. Every journey becomes a testimony. Pastors carry these stories like wildflowers gathered along the roadside - each one offering encouragement to someone else.
Difficult roads deepen gratitude - for safety, for praying congregations, for supportive families, and for God’s steady protection.
And over time, the calling itself grows stronger. The more demanding the road, the clearer the conviction becomes: God placed the shepherd there for a reason.
Arrival Makes the Journey Worth It
Reaching the destination - a waiting home, a worshipping congregation, a grieving family - makes the journey worthwhile. The joy of listening, praying, serving, and comforting outweighs the fatigue of the road.
Every detour carries meaning. Every obstacle teaches patience. Every burden strengthens faith. Every trial softens the heart.
Pastoral ministry is rarely glamorous. But when tears give way to hope, when healing begins, when a lost sheep finds its way home, the weight of the calling feels lighter.
Not Easy, Yet Blessed
A pastor’s life cannot be measured by ease, but by faithfulness, love, and perseverance. Roads may be slippery, but grace steadies the steps. Paths may be blocked, but prayer clears the way. Journeys may feel lonely, but God walks beside His servant. The road may be long, but the destination is eternal.
A pastor’s life is not defined by smooth roads, but by the courage to travel difficult ones - not by applause, but by obedience; not by recognition, but by the quiet assurance that God sees.
So here’s to the roads less travelled - muddy paths, landslides, and unexpected detours. Here’s to days when ministry feels like lifting stones by hand. Here’s to wounds that shape us and grace that sustains us. Here’s to walking the road God has chosen, one step, one soul, one story at a time.
For in the end, it is not the road that defines the pastor, but the One who walks with him. And with Him, even the roughest path becomes a journey worth taking.
