Burnout

It’s been a while since I blogged.  Actually, I’ve been struggling. 

Let me tell you part of my problem.  Therapists, psychologists and pastors refer to it as burnout.  I think I’ve been battling a mild case.  The good news is, after twenty-five years of being a pastor; I think I’m fairly self-aware.  I can see and feel the signs, normally a few days or weeks or months after my wife does.  (I said I was fairly self aware, not keenly self aware.)

I don’t think as clearly or creatively.  I’m distracted easily.  I’ll start a sentence and lose my train of… uh… thought.  I have less patience with myself and pretty much everybody else too.  I become short tempered, impatient, frustrated and tired… very tired… the tired when you wake up in the morning kind of tired.   

I vaguely recall my first bout with burnout when I was still a young pastor.  My response to the above list of symptoms was different then.  First, I felt guilty.  Then I confessed sins; all the sins I could think of.  I even made up some sins to confess.  But it didn’t help.  I determined to work harder, dig deeper.  But when I dug deeper there was nothing there.  When you dip out of an empty well, you come up empty.  I was empty.  Maybe you can relate.   

These days I follow a different treatment plan.  I go fishing.  Of course, fishing is not all I do.  I also sleep a lot.  There’s no agenda.  I just step off of the spinning wheel.  When I do, time slows, my mind clears and, without trying harder to do it, I commune with God. 

I was reading a book by Lauren Winner entitled

Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis.  Lauren retells an ancient legend about a monk who was disappointed with his spiritual development.  He thought he should feel closer to God.  So he goes to three different spiritual advisors who all give him the same advice.  “Go back to your cave.  Pray as you usually pray.  Drink when you are thirsty.  Eat when you are hungry.  Sleep when you are tired.”

I think there is a distinctly Western way of thinking, a way our minds are programmed, that tells us the solution to every problem is to do more.  If you’re doing poorly in school, study more.  If you’re not making enough money, work more.  If you’re dissatisfied with your social life, date more.  If you don’t like the way your body looks, work out more.  If you don’t feel close to God, do more; pray more, read the Bible more, give more, serve more.

Probably my favorite words from the lips of Jesus are found in the gospel of Matthew (11:28-30).  I like Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of the verses. 

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Do you connect with this passage at a deep, intuitive level?  Does it create a longing inside; a longing to experience rest?  Does it conflict with another intuitive drive, a drive to do more; an internalized message that doing more will somehow make fatigue better instead of making it worse?

If so, maybe the lesson to be learned is the one I’m still learning.  Instead of combating burnout by doing more, combat it by doing less.  Listen to Jesus!  (Followers of Jesus do more than proclaim that Jesus is the Way.  They follow the Way of Jesus.)  Stop!  Get off the spinning wheel!  Go fishing!  Sleep a lot!  Get away with Jesus and recover your life.