Am I Too Sensitive?

Am I Too Sensitive: An Appreciation of Thinner Skin

CONFESSION: Sometimes, I truly wish I had thicker skin. There have been moments when a single comment or misunderstanding has left me feeling raw and exposed, and I wonder how much pain I could have avoided if I just let things bounce off me more easily. Yet, as much as I long for that protection, I’ve started to value my thinner skin—it’s a part of who I am. Of course, it means I have to tread more carefully, guard my heart, and occasionally step back to regain my footing. It’s a lesson I keep relearning in ministry, where the advice to “develop thick skin” is almost a rite of passage. The reality is, criticism stings, people misjudge your motives, and you end up shouldering burdens that sometimes feel far too heavy. I worry that my sensitivity might one day lead to burnout. On the surface, thick skin does seem like a shield pastors need just to survive. But deep down, I’m still learning how to embrace the vulnerability that comes from feeling things deeply—and maybe, that’s not all bad. 

But what does “thick skin” really mean—and is it truly what ministry needs most?

What “Thick Skin” Gets Right

Before I share why I believe a more compassionate approach matters, I want to be honest about the real strengths that come with developing some emotional resilience. I've felt the sting of criticism, the weight of disappointment, and the ache of being misunderstood, and I've seen how a little “buffer” can sometimes keep me from spiraling into discouragement. Ministry isn’t for the faint of heart; it’s full of unpredictable ups and downs.

·      Protection from Discouragement and Loss: There are days when criticism or hurtful comments threaten to derail me. I’ve learned that a bit of resilience helps me stay anchored, so my calling doesn’t get lost in the noise of doubt or bitterness.

·      Maintaining Calling under Pressure: When the pressure mounts and expectations feel impossible, having “thick skin” can mean distinguishing between constructive critique and unfair attack. It helps me process feedback without losing sight of my identity in Christ.

·      Steadfastness, Clarity, and Boundaries: I still struggle to say “No” when it’s necessary. Learning to hold boundaries and stay steady in conflict has helped me avoid being swept up by every emotion or expectation around me.

·      Endurance: Ministry is messy and unpredictable. Building some internal resilience lets me weather the valleys and not lose hope when the road gets hard.

In short, I see the real value in being able to take criticism and persevere. Scripture doesn’t say pastors should never feel pain—it calls us to steadfast, faithful service, even when it hurts.

What Scripture and Christian Wisdom Say About Compassion, Gentleness, and a Tender Heart

Yet, the more I read Scripture—and listen to the wisdom of gentle souls around me—the more I realize that God doesn’t ask us to be emotionally numb. He calls us to gentleness, compassion, and vulnerability. Sometimes, being “thin-skinned” is closer to the heart of Jesus than we realize.

·      1 Thessalonians 2:7-8: Paul describes himself as gentle, nurturing like a mother. He didn’t protect himself with rigid hardness; instead, he shared his own self because the people were dear to him. Ministry is about sharing our hearts, not hiding them.

·      1 Timothy 3:3: Gentleness is explicitly listed as a virtue for pastors. It’s not something extra—it’s essential.

·      Ephesians 4:2: “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” These words challenge me daily.

·      Hebrews 5:2: The high priest is called to deal gently with those who struggle, remembering his own weakness. That humility and tenderness are at the very heart of pastoral care. 

Where the “Thick Skin” Idea Goes Wrong (or at Least Is Incomplete)

Here’s the tension I feel: If I try to make “thick skin” my ultimate goal, I risk missing something vital. I’ve seen in myself—and in others—the dangers of letting resilience turn into emotional armor. 

·      Calloused Heart: When I numb myself to pain, I also risk losing empathy for others. Ministry can become mechanical; people become tasks instead of souls.

·      Emotional Isolation: Trying to be endlessly strong can leave me feeling alone, unable to ask for help or admit when I’m wounded.

·      Distorting the Gospel of Grace: If I refuse to be vulnerable, I might present a faith that’s all about performance and never about grace.

·      Burnout: Suppressing my feelings doesn’t make them go away. It builds up until I feel brittle and close to breaking.

·      Losing Relational Influence: People don’t just need sermons. They need pastors who will enter into their pain, who will weep and rejoice together. Without that, trust and warmth fade.

Why a Deeply Caring, Compassionate Spirit Often Serves Better

What I’m discovering—sometimes painfully—is that the overwhelming benefits of a tender heart in ministry far outweigh the temporary safety of emotional hardness. Here’s what I’ve experienced:

·      Authenticity & Trust: When I allow myself to be real—to share my own struggles and hurts—trust grows. People sense when I’m genuine, and that invites them to be honest too.

·      Empathy & Effective Ministry: Compassion lets me see beyond behavior to the pain beneath it. It’s only when I’m willing to suffer with people that true healing can begin.

·      Reflecting Christ’s Example: Jesus led with tears, touch, and tenderness. He never sacrificed compassion for strength. I want my ministry to reflect that balance.

·      Better Long-Term Fruit & Sustainability: When relationships are mutual and caring, burnout is less likely. The church becomes a place of healing—for me, too.

·      Grace-Driven Leadership: The most effective leaders I know are those who lead with grace, even when discipline is needed. Compassion isn’t weakness—it’s the heart of biblical leadership.

Balancing Thick Skin & Tender Heart: What That Looks Like for Me

I’m learning this is not an either/or. It’s a delicate dance—being rooted in Christ so that criticism doesn’t define me, while keeping my heart soft enough to care deeply.

·      Identity in Christ: My worth is secure, not because I’m emotionally tough, but because I belong to Him. This truth helps criticism sting less.

·      Regular Self-Examination and Confession: I try to notice when I’m getting calloused or harsh, and I pray for God to soften my heart again.

·      Spiritual Rhythms: Prayer, rest, and time in Scripture—especially reflecting on Christ’s suffering—help keep me open and gentle.

·      Trustworthy Community: I lean on friends who will speak hard truths and encourage me when I need it.

·      Compassion in Action: It’s not enough to feel compassion—I want to show it by listening, serving, and forgiving in real, practical ways.

Concluding Thoughts

Ministry does require some resilience. I’ve needed “thick skin” to survive hard seasons. But I’ve learned that if I let that toughness harden my heart, I lose the very thing that makes this calling sacred. Pastoral ministry is about shepherding—about seeing, knowing, and loving people in all their messiness.

Jesus didn’t model calloused leadership. He loved openly and vulnerably, even when it hurt. I want to follow Him, growing stronger through compassion, and resilient because I’m sensitive—not despite it.

So, no—I don’t think pastors have to become emotionally hardened to serve well. What’s transformative—for pastors and people—is a heart that truly cares: one that feels deeply, suffers alongside others, forgives, and loves with redeeming grace.

*My Sensitivity Disclaimer: By the way, please know my heart. I am not saying it’s wrong, better, or worse having thick skin. No doubt there is room for both thick and thin skin.