Burned Out and Radical
Sacrificing Your Sanity For the Demands of Ministry
Earworms exist to remind us Justin Bieber can strike when we least expect. Like an unwanted roommate, they toss all the decorative pillows on the floor of the living room of your ears, showing no signs of leaving for days. They stare at you, cackling as they change the settings of your life to loop the most fingernails-on-a-chalkboard song you’ve ever heard, only leaving when they’ve run out of toilet paper.
Driving in complete silence has been the setting on the radio for the last few months, accentuating the purring of moderately cool air wheezing its way into the cabin. That would be unfathomable for some and an ideal sanctuary of tranquility for others. Cruising down the road one morning, enjoying the rhythm of silence, serenity was blindsided by an onslaught of voluminous hair, Zubas, flying-V guitars, and eighties youth group anthems blitzing their way past unguarded eardrums.
“Well I am sold out and radical.
I'm gonna sing a new song forever more.
Well I am sold out and radical.
I'm gonna soar, soar, soar.”
Over and over and over and over.
Thanks Bob Kilpatrick…
It appeared out of the ether, in a flaming DeLorean with no plans of leaving anytime soon. Bob Kilpatrick fans, calm down, it’s a great song, just an unwelcome guest piercing the silence of the Traverse.
They call it the wall, and at some point, in the ministry, you’re going to hit it. Some gently tap into it, while most become so unrecognizable after the collision, they’ll have to take a new picture for the staff page on the website or eerily insert a gray placeholder in their absence.
While Sold Out and Radical is a phenomenal anthem, it’s a terrible mantra for ministry. It comes in different forms: ‘All For the Call’, ‘For the Sake of the Cause’, ‘Sacrifice for Ministry.’ We’ve done more than take Bob’s song out of context, we’ve twisted Jesus’ call.
Burnout sneaks into the room, like an earworm preying on an unsuspecting victim.
Your church is growing, a world needs saving, staff need mentoring, phones need answering, emails need responding, sermons need preparing, and clocks are simply a decoration on a wall. You keep a photo on your desk of a family slowly fading over time. Then one day the ministry ride comes to an abrupt, cabin crushing halt.
Chairs need stacking, meetings need to be had, measurables need to be met, more chairs sit empty in your classes, the marriage has been struggling, parents are more critical, and the creeping dread of failure hangs on every attendance spreadsheet that crosses your desk. You’re tired, weary, resentful, and disillusioned. Those ‘extra duties’ in your pastoral portfolio have securely placed your index finger over the eject button.
One of the leading factors of burnout is adrenaline. Growth is exciting, it’s addictive, it’s candy, and when growth begins to subside in a church, we’ll do anything to get that hit of adrenaline again.
A staff pastor at a large church that was experiencing growth was asked what it was like working there. “It’s like taking a drug,” was his response. He’s no longer in the ministry.
We take Sold Out and Radical to mean doing ministry at the expense of our health and relationships. As leaders, we impose unrealistic expectations on staff and ourselves, mistaking our human capacity for robotic capability. Demonstrating a warped interpretation of ‘All for the Call’, we justify sacrificing what’s most precious to us for the sake of fulfilling manmade agendas. Sold Out and Radical is our commitment to following Christ, not worshipping a golden, never ending to-do list on your vision board of ministry.
Shed yokes you were never meant to carry. Hit the snooze button, show your kids how not to start a fire, play dodge ball with your staff, including the Senior’s Pastor. Take your spouse on a hot date using that Applebee’s card, peeking out from under the dust of some old connection cards on your desk, from Pastor’s appreciation ten months ago. You know that house you bought five years ago? Finish painting that room! It looks terrible. Shoot a 119 on a par 72. Have a conversation where ‘Church’ isn’t in the subject line. Go on a retreat leaving the church calendar behind.
Simply love being a child of God. Let the Spirit whisper His song your ear, silencing the earworm of exhaustion. Jesus can keep saving the world without you on the timeclock.
Eject the anthem of burnout and drive in peace again.
Rides are way more fun when the conclusion isn’t made of cement.
Rock On!
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Great writing. Thank you. I subscribed. I’m in the middle of a decision to retire as pastor. But from a tiny little church. It’s hard, this job of pastor. It’s people pleasing, no matter how many times you remind yourself that there is no one to please but the King. Mostly because people demand to be pleased, no matter how many times they tell themselves that it’s all about the King. Deep down, somewhere they are ashamed to admit, they want the resources of the church (pastor’s time, etc) spent on them, telling them what they want to hear, telling them only their theology, singing the songs they like, picking out one word to dislike out of a 30 minute sermon that took 15 hours to develop. And the threat they hold out is to leave, take their tithes elsewhere. Please me or else. It’s mostly subsurface but
It’s tough.
Great illustration of the unwanted earworm! Way too often, the earworm is the “critique” or suggestion of others that doesn’t seem to fade so easily from our self talk. Sacrificing family & sanity on the altar of ministry never glorifies the Lord & doesn’t build the kingdom.
Keep recovering brother! That IS something that glorifies the Lord.