So, it hasn't really been 28 days, more like 40-ish, but the concept is there, right? Truth be told, it hasn't been that kind of detox. I'll explain. First you have to understand that as pastors, sometimes we are prone to ministry toxins. Sometimes we are aware of them, but do nothing, sometimes we try to avoid them, and sometimes they sneak up on us. But they are there none the less.
Ministry can be sort of like an exposure to something, I mean, good ministry - or just leadership for that matter - involves a lot of transparency. A lot of exposure. Putting yourself out there in a moment of honesty, hoping it works out. Some suffer the poison of the hero syndrome, in which they hold up their ministry on their shoulders, and refuse to budge, saying that they won't let go of the thing that God has entrusted them with, because it's their calling. They feel like its their duty to save the world by working in ministry, regardless the cost. This is a hard one to combat, because they play the "God has called me to this" card as often as possible, and hold it over any naysayers or critics. And truth be told, we (leaders) all want to feel like we matter, and playing the "save the cheerleader, save the world" card helps us feel good about ourselves (as if leadership and ministry were about us, right?)
Others suffer from buddy syndrome, in that everyone is good friends, and they don't want to leave their friends hanging, so they overcommit themselves, doing anything and everything that comes their way ministry-wise. Needless to say, they suffer massive burnout at times, and they don't understand why life isn't balanced.
Some simply exist with what I refer to as barnacle syndrome. Like a boat on the water collecting these toxic animals, taking on things that aren't necessarily healthy, though you can sail with them. If you sail with too many though, when they come off your rots out and then your boat sinks. And of course, the "why me God?" card is always in play here.
On some level, I have probably been a person needing treatment of all 3 of these in some sort of degree, though the one that finally did me in so to speak was barnacle syndrome. As I got ready to leave, I had a range of emotions, from being sad for the kids I was leaving to joy for the things that awaited when I left, the opportunity to go to a new church, and to see the life that was out there for me and my family. But as I got ready to leave, I knew I cared about the kids, but I began to pull away and detach emotionally from the place, and realized that I was a boat in a sea of barnacles. I had help fighting them off, but there was enough in the water that it was bad for me to keep the boat there.
Now, hear me right on this, there are lots of people there I love, and will always love and enjoy and be friends and care for. But, in the grand picture, it was a place that long term was not going to be healthy for me. This was a hard thing for me to admit, and I was not totally aware of it, because, you know, sometimes barnacles are under the surface. You don't know they are there til it's too late to do much. And I also thought it was just part of the job. While there is some truth to that, there isn't much to it. Toxic is toxic, exposure is bad. Period.
Being away was good for me, because this forced me cold turkey to cut off the barnacles. It's been tough, but it's also been good. It has been quite a challenge in a lot of ways, with more stress than I would have thought possible. Taking a pay cut, having major financial issues in the form of a busted transmission in one of our cars. And yet in all of this, we are still a float. I never really doubted that God would provide, but I didn't know where this road was heading, and I didn't like that. On some level, the selfish jerk in me still doesn't.
In those moments, I found myself fighting something I claim to hate: entitlement. Somewhere I found myself saying "God, why did you DO this? I mean, I gave up a good career path, good money, security, for youth ministry. And now you've left me out in the cold. What the crap?! You owe me better than that." That last phrase would stop me, because what I know is, God doesn't owe me a thing. In all honesty, at the end of the day, He doesn't owe me anything at all. Yet here I am, asking what His deal is, why he is making life so difficult, and yet, He has provided in ways I would have never imagined.
Don Miller's latest book talks about the importance of living a good story, and on some level, I feel like I am writing one heck of a chapter right now. He makes this reference to why abused people stay in their situation though, and he said "[they] are afraid to choose a better story, because though their current situation is bad, at least it's a bad story they are familiar with. So they stay."
Reading that, I wondered if that was my job at church. Good times with the kids, but past that, I was in an environment that wasn't a story I should be writing or living. And it made me wonder, how often do we do this? Not just in abusive relationships, but in everyday relationships? In our jobs? In the churches that we attend (regardless of whether or not we work for them.)? How much did I lose relationally at home by ignoring my buddy syndrome? How much unnecessary crap did I have to deal with by not being intentional about cutting out the barnacles instead of letting them build up? Did I really cause more harm than good if I ever played the hero, taking credit away from God?
What if we all have been living less of a story than we should? Enter detox. And so, while leaving was hard, I knew it was the right thing to do. And knowing that God is providing what I need, even in weird ways and methods, and I don't fully get the why behind this all yet, I know that my father loves me. And in that, I have all I need.
live deeper.
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