When the Work Feels too Heavy
What do you do as a leader, when things feel like they’re falling apart?
What’s your default response when you feel stretched too thin?
What happens when you can’t “fix” the thousands of things that people want you to fix?
Historically in seasons like these, my own default response was to double down, to pile things on my plate, and to take a stronger hold on the things I could control, amidst the (many more) things I couldn’t.
But that posture only works for so long. Or more truthfully, it only even feels like it works… as I discovered the hard way.
Nearly a decade ago, a rough season in our church culminated in two staff elders announcing disqualifying sin: on the same day. Just before the end of the school year. And right before my family and I were supposed to take a planned sabbatical.
The summer months felt like a whirlwind: the sabbatical was obviously canceled. We walked our church through much-shared hurt and many layers of emotion. We re-established trust and plugged holes in our mission and ministry the best we could. And we “stabilized” the church to the degree God let us. We had a great remaining team, all of whom sacrificed for the sake of our church family, and I am grateful for them.
“I found myself utterly drained and running on fumes.”
But during those months, I found myself utterly drained and running on fumes. I tried to pray more and also went into “chess board mode,” trying to plan and move pieces to “win” the really hard season. I simply did what I knew how to do: I doubled down, piled things on my plate, and tried to take a stronger hold on the things I thought I could control, amidst the (many more) things I couldn’t.
In the midst of the whirlwind, the inward spiraling I’d hidden so well felt closer and closer to the surface. My hands, which were squeezed so tightly for control, felt like they were losing their grip. That autumn, our remaining elders did give my family a few weeks off, but rather than being a proactive season of planned rest, the time now felt like a reactive time we desperately needed — lest I head down the same scary path of our now-disqualified elders. That might not have ever happened and perhaps seems dramatic, but that’s at least how it felt.
During that break amidst other forms of healing and grieving, I came across Jack Miller’s The Heart of a Servant Leader. Miller taught at Westminster Theological Seminary, and founded World Harvest Mission (now Serge) and New Life Presbyterian Church, outside Philadelphia.
His book is a collection of letters written to pastors, missionaries, and Christian leaders worldwide. Each is a response to a letter that Miller had received. They were compiled after his death and published for the benefit of future leaders in similar situations and needs.
God used many of the letters as a balm to my wounded heart, but one continues to resonate deeply. I have literally thought about it nearly weekly for 8+ years. With the publisher’s permission, I’m sharing the letter here: I would implore you to pause and read both the preamble and the letter, and only then read why it meant so much to my controlling nature and why it might help yours too.
(Seriously, read the .pdf before you continue reading my words - Jack’s are waaaay more helpful than mine!)
After reading the letter, I’d ask: what stood out to you? If you, like me, trend toward taking on too much and controlling things (and even people at times!?), which of Miller’s words met you, and why do you think those words did so?
Here’s the part that stood out most to me: “…make sure you are enjoying yourself and not taking your work too seriously. You don’t have anything to prove to us or the world. The work is finished at Calvary, and that work alone has unlimited meaning and value. Keep your focus there. And then read Robert Ludlum and/or go on vacation.”
“…make sure you are enjoying yourself and not taking your work too seriously.”
On one hand, the first phrase hit me like a ton of bricks: “…make sure you are enjoying yourself and not taking your work too seriously.” My perspective was that the deeply spiritual nature of ministry means I MUST take every moment of our work very seriously. And while I believe the Bible when it says God gives joy “in all circumstances,” I couldn’t remember the last time that I truly enjoyed myself.
On the other hand, I immediately wanted to know who this great spiritual guru was, named Robert Ludlum! Who on earth would this seasoned minister, Jack Miller, commend to reader(s) as the even greater spiritual guru — the one who could meet leaders in our hard situations and make them better?! I wanted THAT guru!
So I googled “Robert Ludlum,” and discovered that he was the author of… the Bourne Identity series of thriller novels. WHAT?!
Miller’s point – which met me in a dark, joyless, serious season – was that leaders need tangible things to remind us that we’re NOT in charge of God’s church. We’re NOT in control of the outcomes of the situations around us. Our every waking moment canNOT be consumed by the things we need to do – even “good” things. We’re NOT primarily defined by our role, work, abilities, or fruit. That truth brought tears to my eyes; it was utterly freeing, and I’d never truly received it before.
“You don’t have anything to prove to us or the world.”
Sister, brother, and fellow minister, the same truth that Miller wrote to a Ugandan missionary in 1985 is still true for you and me today. “You don’t have anything to prove to us or the world. The work is finished at Calvary, and that work alone has unlimited meaning and value.” That is good news for those who trend toward overwork, shame, self-focus, and control!
Because it’s tempting to forget or disbelieve that, Miller recommends that we find ways to remember our true identity, and put tangible things in our lives to help us “let go” of the illusion of control. Maybe that’s forcing yourself to stop work at a set time each day and leave your devices in a drawer or office. Maybe it’s paying attention to kids, grandkids, nieces, and nephews, and seeing their delight in others, not because of what people can do for them but simply because they get time and attention. Maybe it’s a hobby.
Maybe it’s taking Miller’s advice and going on vacation — even in the least likely of seasons! In our residencies, we ask church planters to plan a few weeks away and at least six Sundays where they don’t preach in the first year of the plant. Many struggle with this, as those early days feel fragile. But that’s the point: there is never a convenient time to get away from ministry work — so we must trust God and take time for rest. And the very fragility of a church’s earliest days invites us to ask whether it’s our presence (and preaching, for some) that holds the church together and establishes its strength, or if we truly and tangibly believe it’s God alone who “builds his church”?
“I’ve learned to have fiction on hand.”
For me, it’s meant taking another of Miller’s recommendations literally: I’ve constantly had a rotation of fictional audiobooks on my phone since I read this letter in 2016. (They’re even mostly spy thrillers — but most recently, Bono read me his autobiography.) I’ve learned to have fiction on hand, and to consume just as much “fun reading” as I do “ministry resources.” The freedom of storytelling, the creativity of fictional writing, the suspense — and yah, even the things blowing up and people dying at times – remind me that I’m not defined by what I do. There are other things going on. Work and rest are both blessings. My every waking moment doesn’t need to go toward to “professional development,” ministry, or even pastoring.
These bigger truths bring me rest, both in ministry seasons that have been heavy and in less heavy seasons. I don’t have to control or fix everything, because I can’t. I can turn things off, even when there’s more to do, because there is always more to do. I am not defined by the ups and downs of ministry and mission. I don’t have anything to prove to God or anyone. “The work is finished at Calvary, and that work alone has unlimited meaning and value.” That is true for me, even when it’s hard to believe – and it’s true for you too.
So what does Jack Miller invite you and me to do in hard seasons, when things feel like they’re falling apart, when you feel stretched too thin, and when you can’t “fix” the thousands of things that people want you to fix?
Among other things, remember that our identity is in Christ and not our work. Remember that Jesus cares more for everything and every person in HIS Church (not yours). Remember that God is in control so we don’t have to be. Remember Jesus’ invitation to come to him when we are weary and burdened, and in him find rest. Remember the finished work of Jesus on the cross applies to every season and moment of ministry.
Miller’s invitation, in easy situations and hard, is to “keep your focus there…
…And then read Robert Ludlum and/or go on vacation.”
Book: The Heart of a Servant Leader; author: C. John Miller; publisher: P&R; ISBN: 9780875527154. Used by permission of the publisher, Feb 2024.
