Charging the Batteries
There was one moment back in April when I knew that I needed this Sabbatical. The plan for a Sabbatical had been in the works for over a year, but up until then, my awareness of this need was more cognitive. I knew intellectually that a Sabbatical would be a good idea -- but as of yet, I didn't experience the need. This moment served as a gut-check.
Evening church had ended, and as is our family tradition, the kids were watching AFV in the next room while I was making my usual plate of nachos. Amy and I were laying out plans I was in the for the upcoming week. My son piped up from the other room, asking a harmless question, but I just didn't have the patience to answer it. So I snapped at him. I told him to just go away. Amy looked at me, disappointed with how I had reacted. Rightly so. Later that night, I went and apologized to my son for my temper, and thankfully, my son (like most kids) are pretty good forgivers.
As I processed that event a little later, I cam to the conclusion that my emotional and mental tanks were empty, and they probably had been for awhile. In the moment, I lacked the emotional reserves to overlook a minor interruption. I didn't have the imagination for a kinder, more patient response. I think I'd been running on fumes for awhile. Minor disagreements or annoyances would turn into fights with my wife. I'd been finding it more difficult to bear with people whose personality might rub me the wrong way. Writing sermons was beginning to feel like a chore. All these signs of a low-running emotional tank.
On Friday, I shared a bit about what I do in the course of a week. I suspect that Pastoral ministry is no more "busy" than that of other workers. I think of many hardworking members of Sunnyslope church. Dairy farmers who wake up each morning at 4 AM to milk their cows; accountants who work 60+ hours a week during tax season; stay-at-home parents who are on-duty from sunup to sundown.. Small business owners who shoulder tremendous responsibilities -- and often can't get away even for a weekend. I don't pretend that I work harder or longer than anyone else.
So what is it about Pastoral Ministry that creates a need for a Sabbatical? I've identified a couple of factors at play.
By nature, Pastoral ministry requires a person to enter into the hurts and the pains, the trials, and the grief of others, in order to walk with them through that time. It is a profession that involves listening intently -- and wrestling deeply with what God is saying in his word, and then imagining creative ways to restate that truth in a way that captures the hearts and minds of God's people today. It entails serving among people who are as different as they come, and working through conflict, envisioning what God is calling his church to in the future, and how the church might take steps towards that.
Many times, those hurts, pains, fears, anxieties, or anything else across the spectrum of human emotion rubs off on me. When the phone rings in the evening, bringing the news that a of a life-changing diagnosis for a church member, I find that, like many pastors, just a bit of that fear and anxiety sticks with me as well. When I sit across from a couple who are feeling stuck in their marriage, the troubles they are working through will often roll around in my mind long after my time with them is over. And in ministering to those who are hurting, a bit of the hurt rubs off on me. Occasionally, I'll wake up in the night, not able to fall asleep again because a concern about a church member surfaces, and try as I might I can't put it out of my mind. Or, I'll find that what is supposed to be an enjoyable outing with the family is overshadowed by conflict or a problem that needs to be addressed within the church.
Sometimes, there is a sinful dimension at play. Many Pastors can be people-pleasers who want to make everyone happy. I sometimes live with angst when I feel as though I'm letting someone done. When conflict is looming, I stress about being caught in the middle. Occasionally, a comment about a sermon that is perceived as a negative (even if it's not a criticism) will pull be down. It's unhealthy -- but it's real.
And the cumulative effect of these dynamics has emptied my tank, leading to events like I described above. I have little emotional energy to give to my family. Or, I find that writing another sermon feels like just another assignment to complete -- crank out yet another couple of sermons, cause Sunday's a comin'. The congregation suffers when that is the case.
I hesitate a bit to say this; it sounds either like I'm griping, or that I'm looking for a pity, or a pat on the back. I certainly don't mean it this way. I love what I do -- and I receive a generous amount of encouragement. I love what I do; in fact, it bothers me just a bit when people say something like, "I didn't want to bother you with [trouble/illness/relative-in-the-hospital] because I know you are busy." I'm here to serve. I want to do what I can to carry the grief, pain, and conflict of those whom I serve. It's my calling, it's a privilege, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I simply share this to illustrate why a Sabbatical is so important. In the Old Testament, a Sabbath year was mandated every 7 years. It was meant as a time to let the fields lie fallow, and one of the reasons this was so, was to allow the fields to be replenished with the necessary nutrients, for the good of the land. That way, the land could continue to produce an abundance, year after year. Rest maximized productivity.
So it is here as well. It is my earnest prayer that time away will replenish me and my family in such a way that we are able to give again, and serve again, in new and re-newed ways. The beauty of the gospel is that it illustrates how it is in giving that we are filled. The Christian calling is a calling to empty ourselves in the service of others -- no matter what profession or position we may find ourselves in. But we cannot empty ourselves unless we have first been filled. We cannot give ourselves, unless we have first received. So, I eagerly anticipate this season of being filled again, in order to serve anew.
Evening church had ended, and as is our family tradition, the kids were watching AFV in the next room while I was making my usual plate of nachos. Amy and I were laying out plans I was in the for the upcoming week. My son piped up from the other room, asking a harmless question, but I just didn't have the patience to answer it. So I snapped at him. I told him to just go away. Amy looked at me, disappointed with how I had reacted. Rightly so. Later that night, I went and apologized to my son for my temper, and thankfully, my son (like most kids) are pretty good forgivers.
As I processed that event a little later, I cam to the conclusion that my emotional and mental tanks were empty, and they probably had been for awhile. In the moment, I lacked the emotional reserves to overlook a minor interruption. I didn't have the imagination for a kinder, more patient response. I think I'd been running on fumes for awhile. Minor disagreements or annoyances would turn into fights with my wife. I'd been finding it more difficult to bear with people whose personality might rub me the wrong way. Writing sermons was beginning to feel like a chore. All these signs of a low-running emotional tank.
On Friday, I shared a bit about what I do in the course of a week. I suspect that Pastoral ministry is no more "busy" than that of other workers. I think of many hardworking members of Sunnyslope church. Dairy farmers who wake up each morning at 4 AM to milk their cows; accountants who work 60+ hours a week during tax season; stay-at-home parents who are on-duty from sunup to sundown.. Small business owners who shoulder tremendous responsibilities -- and often can't get away even for a weekend. I don't pretend that I work harder or longer than anyone else.
So what is it about Pastoral Ministry that creates a need for a Sabbatical? I've identified a couple of factors at play.
By nature, Pastoral ministry requires a person to enter into the hurts and the pains, the trials, and the grief of others, in order to walk with them through that time. It is a profession that involves listening intently -- and wrestling deeply with what God is saying in his word, and then imagining creative ways to restate that truth in a way that captures the hearts and minds of God's people today. It entails serving among people who are as different as they come, and working through conflict, envisioning what God is calling his church to in the future, and how the church might take steps towards that.
Many times, those hurts, pains, fears, anxieties, or anything else across the spectrum of human emotion rubs off on me. When the phone rings in the evening, bringing the news that a of a life-changing diagnosis for a church member, I find that, like many pastors, just a bit of that fear and anxiety sticks with me as well. When I sit across from a couple who are feeling stuck in their marriage, the troubles they are working through will often roll around in my mind long after my time with them is over. And in ministering to those who are hurting, a bit of the hurt rubs off on me. Occasionally, I'll wake up in the night, not able to fall asleep again because a concern about a church member surfaces, and try as I might I can't put it out of my mind. Or, I'll find that what is supposed to be an enjoyable outing with the family is overshadowed by conflict or a problem that needs to be addressed within the church.
Sometimes, there is a sinful dimension at play. Many Pastors can be people-pleasers who want to make everyone happy. I sometimes live with angst when I feel as though I'm letting someone done. When conflict is looming, I stress about being caught in the middle. Occasionally, a comment about a sermon that is perceived as a negative (even if it's not a criticism) will pull be down. It's unhealthy -- but it's real.
And the cumulative effect of these dynamics has emptied my tank, leading to events like I described above. I have little emotional energy to give to my family. Or, I find that writing another sermon feels like just another assignment to complete -- crank out yet another couple of sermons, cause Sunday's a comin'. The congregation suffers when that is the case.
I simply share this to illustrate why a Sabbatical is so important. In the Old Testament, a Sabbath year was mandated every 7 years. It was meant as a time to let the fields lie fallow, and one of the reasons this was so, was to allow the fields to be replenished with the necessary nutrients, for the good of the land. That way, the land could continue to produce an abundance, year after year. Rest maximized productivity.
So it is here as well. It is my earnest prayer that time away will replenish me and my family in such a way that we are able to give again, and serve again, in new and re-newed ways. The beauty of the gospel is that it illustrates how it is in giving that we are filled. The Christian calling is a calling to empty ourselves in the service of others -- no matter what profession or position we may find ourselves in. But we cannot empty ourselves unless we have first been filled. We cannot give ourselves, unless we have first received. So, I eagerly anticipate this season of being filled again, in order to serve anew.
Comments
Post a Comment