On the day I first saw the swan, I was entering into a time of transition. After 25 years of serving as a pastor, I was stepping away. I had just announced to the staff and elders of the church that I was serving that I was sensing an end to my time there, and moving into something new. The “something new” was a pull towards what a spiritual director told me earlier that year: “a longing for the hidden work of deep discipleship.” Every part of that phrase resonated with me. There was definitely a longing in me. I sensed it would be more of a hidden work. That is, in contrast to what I had been doing, often being the up-front communicator and leader, this new work would be more unseen. One-on-one meetings in coffee shops, restaurants, or offices. And I have always believed that deep discipleship most often comes through those meaningful conversations and relationships over time where questions, fears, thoughts, doubts, and insights can be shared, challenged, refined and held. We see it as Jesus spent time with individual disciples and the community of disciples. I would come to interpret the words of that spiritual director as a returning to what I loved: listening with care to others describe where they were in their journey of leadership—whether that leadership be in the church, their work, their home, or family.

In this time of transition, I felt like that swan. While some understood this change of vocation, many did not. I also remember telling my co-workers that, while I had then three months left with them, already I was feeling not as much a part of the team. They would be continuing the work I had been a part of for more than nine years (and this church’s work in this city for 150 years!), but I was going to swim in different waters. I couldn’t see everything in my future clearly, and saw many things dimly. Nearly four months later, several things I felt more certain of have already disappeared from view.

As I saw the swan, swimming alone in that portion of the American River, I reflected on a larger loneliness of leadership. I had been in a group of other pastors that met yearly, and one of the things we frequently talked about was this: that no one really understood what it was we did. And that groups like that one was a balm for our souls, because we didn’t feel alone there. For a couple of days, we shared our joys and struggles, laughed at each other’s stories, wept with one another in our pain. The harder part came when we returned home. Yes, we could call one another, but we weren’t WITH one another in the same way.

What would it look like to have someone do the same thing with us where we were? That is what began to take root in my mind and heart. As I watched the swan swim alone, I thought of how many leaders were swimming alone. I wanted to help, starting by practicing the art of listening for the loneliness of leadership.

I am now serving with a ministry called Standing Stone, which has aimed for twenty years to provide a space for free, confidential coaching and care for pastors, ministry leaders, and leaders of every sphere. Standing Stone believes that healthy leaders need companions on their leadership journey, and that healthy leaders will lead healthy organizations that help transform their communities. You can learn more here: https://standingstoneministry.org/shepherd/burke-david/