Let me guess: You have a church van policy.
🎧 Listen to this episode:
You know exactly who's approved to drive it, who holds the keys, and where that document lives. You could probably pull it up in thirty seconds.
Now tell me—what's your policy for when a staff member has a baby?
If you just felt your stomach drop, you're not alone. Most churches can produce van insurance documentation faster than they can answer whether their children's pastor gets paid maternity leave.
And that's a problem.
Here's how this typically plays out:
Your kids' pastor tells you she's pregnant. You're genuinely thrilled. You hug her, congratulate her, maybe even tear up a little. Then she asks about leave.
Suddenly, you're scrambling. "Let me talk to the board about it," you say.
The board says they'll pray about it. Weeks pass. Eventually, she gets an answer: two weeks unpaid, a volunteer rotation she has to organize herself, and a vague expectation that she'll "probably be back for VBS."
Nobody wrote anything down before she needed it. So she had to negotiate her own recovery while still appearing on the Sunday schedule.
Meanwhile, you background-check every nursery volunteer. You have insurance riders on equipment. You've documented who can access the building after hours.
But when someone asks who gets paid when a staff member has a baby, the room goes quiet. Then somebody says, "We'll figure it out."
Figuring it out is not a policy. Figuring it out is a favor.
And favors depend on who's pregnant, who's well-liked, and how close it is to Christmas. That's not family values. That's improvisation with a Bible verse on top.
Here's the disconnect: You platform family as a core doctrine. It's in your vision statement. It's in your sermons. It shows up on your website.
But you treat parental leave like a personal exception rather than a predictable life event that requires institutional support.
And it's not just moms. Dads don't get a real plan either. They get a Sunday off, a slap on the back, and an expectation to be back at their desk by Tuesday.
You have coverage plans for when the senior pastor takes a sabbatical. You don't have coverage plans for when a staff member just had a baby. So the plan becomes her phone—text messages in week two asking "quick questions" about curriculum or volunteer schedules.
"If the ministry collapses when one person gives birth, you didn't have a ministry. You had a person you were unwilling to spell."
I know your heart. The budget is real. You don't have an HR department. You're trying to be generous case-by-case because you genuinely care about your people.
That's decent. It really is.
But case-by-case decision-making is also how one staff member gets a meal train and paid time off while another gets an awkward conversation about "stewardship" and "calling."
Kindness that only shows up after the ultrasound isn't a policy. It's a scramble. And the person who pays for that scramble isn't you—it's the staff member navigating physical recovery, sleep deprivation, and the fear of losing their job if they're honest about their needs.
You don't need a corporate-level benefits handbook. You need one page that says what you actually do.
Here's what that page should include:
Write what is true. If the true thing is "two weeks paid, then unpaid," say that. Say it clearly. Say it to everyone on staff, not in a whisper to the person currently pregnant.
A practice nobody can see until they're showing isn't a practice. It's a private deal. And private deals are how you preach family while practicing favoritism.
James 2:15-17 - "If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace, be warmed and filled,' without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead."
1 Timothy 5:8 - "But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever."
Would you hand the van keys to someone with no rules, no approved driver list, no insurance documentation?
Of course not.
A baby—a human being joining your staff member's family—is not less serious than a 15-passenger van.
Stop making pregnant staffers write the policy with their due date on the calendar. Name it while nobody in the room currently needs it. That's how you prove this isn't a favor.
I know this episode is uncomfortable. I know it's specific. But it's also urgent.
This week, do something that matters: Write or at least name a parental leave practice.
Even if it's just one page that says, "This is what we actually do now."
Then tell your staff. Not just the person who's currently pregnant—everyone. Make it a regular part of your staff handbook that you review annually.
You care about the families on your team. I know you do. That's why you're reading this. And that's why I believe most of you, even if you don't currently have a policy, are going to start this conversation with your board this week.
You have a policy for who can use the van. You need a policy for who gets paid when they have a kid.
Family on Sunday and two unpaid weeks on Monday isn't hospitality. It's a missing page in your staff handbook.
And here's the thing—this isn't just about being nice. This is about integrity. This is about whether your operations match your theology. This is about whether the people who serve your church family can trust that they're actually part of that family.
The van got a binder. The baby deserves at least that much.
Have you navigated creating a parental leave policy at your church? Are you currently facing this challenge? I'd love to hear about it.
Todd Rhoades is co-founder of Chemistry Staffing and host of the Chemistry Staffing Podcast, where he helps church leaders build healthy teams and sustainable systems. With decades of church ministry experience, Todd brings practical wisdom to the real challenges church leaders face every day.