Before the Resentment Sets In: Why Ministry Parents Must Listen at Home First

A ministry leader can spend an entire Sunday listening.

Listening to volunteers who are overwhelmed.

Listening to parents who need prayer.

Listening to students wrestling with doubt.

Listening to staff navigating conflict.

Then they come home and answer their own child with, "Not right now."

Most of us don't do this because we don't care. We do it because we're tired.

The work of ministry requires us to be emotionally present for others. Yet if we're not careful, the people closest to us can end up receiving the leftovers of our attention. Over time, our children may begin to experience the church as the place that gets the best of us while they receive what's left.

And that's where resentment quietly begins.

I've never met a ministry parent who intentionally chose the church over their children. Most ministry leaders I know deeply love both. Yet many of us have experienced the tension of being highly available everywhere else while becoming emotionally unavailable at home.

One evening, after a long day of ministry conversations, one of my children started sharing something important. I heard the words, but my mind was already somewhere else, thinking about an upcoming event, a volunteer challenge, and a meeting scheduled for the next morning. I was physically present, but I wasn't truly listening.

That moment forced me to ask a difficult question:

If listening is one of the greatest gifts we can offer the people we serve, why is it often hardest to offer that same gift to the people we love most?

The question matters because listening is not merely a communication skill. It is a discipleship practice.

Research from Future of Faith's Sacred Listening Study found that 67% of teenagers say their faith deepens when someone listens to them without judgment. By comparison, only 33% reported the same impact from hearing a sermon. The study also found that young people are significantly more open to conversations about faith when they feel genuinely heard.

That's a powerful reminder for those of us in ministry.

We often invest tremendous energy into creating meaningful spiritual experiences for young people. Yet the research suggests that faith formation is frequently happening in conversations, not just programs. It grows in environments where people feel safe, valued, and understood.

Perhaps nowhere is that more important than in our own homes.

For decades, churches have worked tirelessly to support the spiritual development of children and teenagers. As someone who has dedicated much of my life to family ministry, I deeply believe in that mission. But we must also remember what the research continues to affirm: parents remain the most influential voices in the spiritual lives of their children.

Fuller Youth Institute's Sticky Faith research consistently points to the significant role parents play in shaping lasting faith, particularly when they create space for honest conversations, questions, doubts, and spiritual exploration. What does this mean? It means simply that our kids, teens and non-ministry spouses need our undivided attention, time to talk and express themselves, be curious and ask questions with varying difficulty in terms of answers. I also learned that having the answers doesn't matter as much as hearing and respecting the question. I have opened my Bible and gone through scripture with my children for the biblical response as a way of demonstrating to them that the Word of God has answers for them that I do not at times and the answers that I do offer on certain topics should be scripturally aligned.

In other words, no ministry program can replace the influence of a parent who listens.

This is especially important for ministry families because our children often see behind the curtain. They know the late nights, the unexpected phone calls, the weekends spent serving, and the emotional demands that ministry can place on a family.

If we're not intentional, they may begin telling themselves stories.

The church is more important than me.

Other people's problems matter more than mine.

Mom or Dad listens to everyone except me.

These stories rarely emerge overnight. They develop slowly through repeated experiences of feeling unheard, unseen, or postponed.

Their experiences with you may be vastly different than those you serve outside of your family but I would I am offering this idea that our first and primary ministry is our home. Our love and our listening should be best demonstrated at home as well.

The good news is that resentment is not inevitable. Let that settle and take a deep breath.

Sacred listening offers another path.

Sacred listening at home looks less like having all the right answers and more like practicing curiosity. It means asking another question before offering advice. It means putting down the phone. It means creating moments where our children don't have to compete with ministry for our attention.

Do your children experience you primarily as a teacher, a fixer, or a listener?

When was the last time they had your undivided attention?

What stories are they telling themselves about your ministry?

These aren't questions meant to produce guilt. They're invitations to reflection.

Listen…ministry is beautiful. The work matters. Lives are changed through faithful service every day. The goal isn't to love the church less. The goal is to ensure that our families experience the same attentive presence we so readily offer others.

Before we ask whether the next generation is listening to us, we may need to ask a different question:

Do they feel listened to by us?

Perhaps sacred listening doesn't begin on a stage, in a counseling office, or across a coffee table.

Perhaps it begins at the dinner table.

Perhaps the future of faith will be shaped less by the messages we preach and more by the conversations we don't rush.

And perhaps one of the most important acts of ministry we will ever perform is giving our children the gift of being fully heard before the resentment sets in.

I pray this reaches you in time friend.