Wednesday, December 07, 2005

On stress in the ministry

Some years ago I put together a seminar on "Burnout in the Ministry" that reflected some of the struggles I was experiencing. Each time I gave that presentation to small groups of pastors it had a different focus. At first, time management was the culprit. Then understanding your gifts and skill-sets. Finally, it was tailoring your ministry expectations to the type of church you pastored. But I have grown to understand that ministry, by nature, is a stressful calling. After all, we are working alongside several sets of expectations: God's, our people's, our family's, and our own expectations of ourselves. (That last one is probably the greatest stressor of them all! At least it has been for me.)

God's expectations are incredibly high -- "be holy as I am holy." And I have decided that the only way I can deal with His expectations of me is to understand that His grace to me equals and far exceeds His expectations. I am stretched by His demands, but I have learned (and am continuing to learn) to rest in His mercy, and patience, and grace. And to understand that when He calls me to a task He will equip me to do that task. I have also come to understand and even to appreciate (as I have spoken of earlier) that ministry is suffering. It doesn't just involve suffering, it is suffering. When a pastor understands that suffering is not necessarily a result of failure in ministry but is instead a partner in ministry, he will not be so overwhelmed by it.

Other's expectations of me also create stress. But I learned a great lesson during a terrible crisis some years ago. A family in church -- who also happened to be our best friends in all the world -- were going through a divorce. Because they were such good friends (and probably because I had never seen close friends divorcing before) I made it my job to preserve their marriage. After all, I was their pastor; I was trained for such things; and, as their friend, I couldn't bear to see either them or us in such overwhelming pain. As you might have guessed, I failed. And in my failure I hated myself and I hated God for letting this happen!

But out of the sadness and anger and depression of that experience, I learned a very simple but terribly profound lesson that I have leaned on ever since. I learned to differentiate between my problem and your problem. As simple as that sounds, it has been lifesaving for me. Your problem (in the case of my friends) is to save your marriage. I can't do that for you. NO ONE else can do that for you, no matter how much we would like to! My problem is to help you, to love you, to be your pastor; but it is not to save your marriage. From that time on, whenever I am dealing with people and feel my adrenalin starting to rise and my neck muscles starting to tighten -- I stop and ask myself, "What is MY problem in this difficult situation and what is theirs?" That saves me from becoming (to use a term now out of currency) "co-dependent" and makes me a much better pastor and helper.

Finally, as to my family's expectations, I look back on 30+ years of ministry and realize that too often I put my church and my church work way ahead of my loyalties to my family. And I regret that. But I have also found my family to be far more gracious and forgiving toward me than I am willing to be toward myself.

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