This is the story of a friend who became an Episcopalian priest due to a medical condition he did not know he had. I have written it as he told it to me while we were sitting at the Jackson Hole Diner in Englewood, New Jersey.
I never thought my Greek studies in seminary would prepare me to understand the illness that my doctor recently diagnosed--agoraphobia. The Greek word agora means “marketplace.” The Greek word phobos means “fear.” Put them together and you end up with "fear of the marketplace," or crowds. It wasn't a problem early in my ministry because I pastored small churches of 20 or 30 people. I dealt with the Saturday anxiety leading up to a Sunday as best I could, figuring it was just normal, especially because I never had my sermons done by Saturday and the thought of stepping into the pulpit unprepared made me nervous. But then I started finishing my sermons earlier in the week and I realized my anxiety was still there, so it must be something else.
In my fourth pastorate, the church grew and grew; 75 to 100 to 150 to 200 to 300 and finally 400. I wasn't doing anything differently, but the church just kept growing. And instead of just Saturday anxiety, I started getting anxiety attacks more and more often. Wednesday night crowds were over 200. I started getting invitations to speak at District events and retreats and conferences. Everywhere I went, pastors looked up to me because they thought I was a brilliant church strategist, a purpose-driven pastor, leveraging my gifts and talents strategically to grow the Kingdom. I saw the big picture and thought outside the box, or so they thought. but through it all, I was just struggling to survive, one day at a time, one event at a time. The anxiety grew more and more intense. In response, I claimed Philippians 4:4: "Be not anxious in anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition . . ." I prayed about it all of the time, but it didn't get any better.
Each time I went to the doctor, he always said it was stress-related. I told a couple of my pastor friends, and that's what their doctors always told them too. I tried reading English grammar books to relax, and though I found some relief there I still couldn't stop feeling like I was going to throw up every Saturday night and Sunday morning. This happened every time I had to speak to a large group of people. It seemed things were just too big for me.
And then, one Sunday I was guest speaker at a Church Growth conference where a snowstorm nearly shut down the entire thing. Over 500 were supposed to attend, but only 25 showed up. We had gotten there early due to the forecast. When I found out only 25 would be there, I felt so relieved. I talked about how church growth was overrated; how God is in the small things too. And I was so relaxed; for the first time, I enjoyed speaking at an event. My wife said I looked ten years younger that weekend. It was the highlight of my life.
My next trip to the doctor, he put the pieces together and diagnosed the problem: agoraphobia. He prescribed that I only pastor churches of no more than 50 people or I wouldn't live to be 50. He even suggested that I transfer to the Episcopalians, whose churches are small and there is not a chance in the world that they will grow into big churches. So I made the move. The Episcopalians even give pastors of small churches health insurance and contribute to their 403(b) account. I could not be happier. I am called to pastor micro-churches, the smaller the better.