I have often thought that the life of an immigrant church pastor is like a car whose engine never turns off. As a pastor’s wife, I saw how my husband’s thoughts and concerns were always absorbed in the lives and families of the congregation, and how he lived in a constant state of tension. A day that began at 5 a.m. rarely ended before 1 a.m. the next morning.

My husband, weary in body and spirit, would often drift into drowsiness after only thirty minutes of driving. Meanwhile, the dosage of blood pressure medication for both of us kept increasing, while the joy and quality of life steadily diminished.

One morning, after finishing the dawn prayer service, we sat together in the parsonage kitchen for breakfast and began a deep conversation of self-examination. To our surprise, we confessed that despite our constant effort to discipline ourselves with prayer and Scripture, we were suffering from stress, workaholism, wounds, a mission drained of joy, the burden of being unable to express our emotions, and fear of retirement without a plan. We admitted we were exhausted.

We asked ourselves: Is living with suppressed burdens, emphasizing only duty and mission, truly the life God desires? Or does God want us to live as His children through spontaneous joy and devotion flowing from within?

We realized we needed to forgive ourselves for neglecting our own care while running endlessly, and concluded that absolute rest was immediately necessary to fulfill God’s work in its fullness.

Afterward, my husband left the church he had been serving, and together we made a bold start toward the life we had prayed for. For a year, he stepped away from ministry, working with soil and tending the earth in nature’s embrace. During that time, the heavy burdens, wounds, depression, and exhaustion that had filled us were healed.

Now, nearly five years later, I see in my husband a healthier, more beautiful figure than ever before—full of new joy, courage, and passion for ministry, caring for the elderly and fellow believers, and sharing God’s presence. I also testify that in our marriage, once hardened by the strains of immigrant ministry, we have found a joy of love and leisure we had never tasted before.

True rest is not found in short trips, retreats, or educational programs for church growth. It is found when the pastor steps away from people and rests simply as a human being in nature. In that time, all obsessions—church growth, ministry zeal, even mission itself—are laid down, and one becomes a friend to oneself. In that time, God’s abundant embrace strengthens the pastor and leads the ministry in a truer direction.

I pray that congregations, whether large or small, will encourage and allow their pastors to take regular periods of rest and sabbatical. For it is only when pastors are healthy in body and spirit that the church itself can be healthy.