Number Eight, Busyness - Christianity Today

The Eighth Deadly Sin Busyness

Busyness (doing too many things) and hurry (moving too fast) are a raging storm in our culture. Newspaper and magazine headlines provide ample, almost daily evidence: “Nurses: We’re Tired,” “Doctors on the Edge,” and “Stress in the Workplace Becomes a Worldwide Problem.”The workplace that is the congregational setting may be one of the most dangerous of all for people given to overcommitment.“Christians will run you into the ground,” writes Richard Swenson. “Seeing the great number of needs, pastors and laypeople often place unbearable demands upon themselves—and others.” Swenson is the author of Margin: Restoring Emotional, Physical, Financial and Time Reserves to Overloaded Lives.The busy church has become the norm in America, and with it the hurried pastor. It almost feels wrong if the church calendar has a little empty space, if members aren’t involved in three or more ministries, or if we don’t sense a quickened pace in our conversations, meetings, and even worship.Congregational expectations are high, but pastors’ expectations of themselves are even higher. For many, reputation, self-image, and the perception of their standing with God are at stake.In my own pastoral experience, the resulting overload expresses itself in three basic ways: over-scheduling at church, under-scheduling with family, and no scheduling when it comes to doing things for my own personal, deep-soul nourishment.“Many ministers today are headed toward the mental, physical, and spiritual salvage yard because they expect too much of themselves,” a physician told Swenson.And it’s not just the ministers who suffer. For a research project several years ago, I interviewed the daughter of one of my pastoral predecessors. He had been an influential and beloved leader and I eagerly looked forward to the interview.As the woman, an accomplished attorney in her early fifties, sat down and looked around the office, she angrily said, “I hate this church.”“Pardon me?” I said politely, trying to hide my shock.She repeated her words with uncensored bitterness and resentment: “I hate this church!” Her explanation was as unforgettable as her declaration: “I hate this church because they stole my father from me. And sometimes I find myself hating him, because he let them do it.”At one time, I, too, was on my way to Swenson’s salvage yard. And if this woman’s testimony was any indication, I would be taking my family relationships with me.

Preacher interrupted

My own frightening awakening came 12 years ago while I was pastoring in Chester, Pennsylvania. I was also a husband, the father of two young children, and a Ph.D. candidate at Drew University in Madison, New Jersey. In addition, I said yes to more than a reasonable number of community leadership assignments and preaching invitations.One night, during one of those engagements, I suddenly stopped preaching before the sermon was over. I turned to the pastor, my seminary friend, Earl Trent, and said tersely, “I can’t go on!”I had come to my limit. I felt no physical pain, just a deep sense of fatigue. I had experienced the feeling before, but never to the extent that I ended a sermon in progress, and certainly never to the point of being forced to bow to that weariness so abruptly and so publicly.Soon after that incident in the pulpit, I began having difficulty sleeping. I felt stinging sensations and numbness in my arms and legs. Without provocation, my heart would begin beating very fast at times. But most frightening of all, I had moments of intense anxiety, as if my next breath would be my last. For a month or more, I was entangled in something I had never experienced before, something I could not shake.It was during this period that I turned to Mark’s Gospel. There I found three practices that have reduced my stress level and changed the way I approach my personal and vocational life.

Stern words

Mark 4:35-41 is the story of Jesus calming a storm by merely speaking to it. We spend so much time preaching about Jesus speaking to the storm from the bow of the boat that we hardly notice his prior respite in the back of the boat.We cannot be certain of all that Jesus did while he was in the back of the boat, but we know there were some things that he did not do. Since he was the only one back there, we know that he did not preach to anyone, he did not teach anyone, and he did not heal anyone. While Jesus was in the back of the boat, he was not engaged in ministry to others.If Jesus regularly found time to rest and renew his energies, why shouldn’t we do the same?“The back of the boat” is where we take a necessary break from life’s activities. It is a time for remembering who and whose we are, and that quality living transcends doing and producing. This is vital, especially for ministers, because so often we lose our personhood in our work, forgetting that God loves us for who we are, not for what we do.This is something that I affirm in my private devotions every morning. I begin each day in the back of the boat sipping my morning BREW: Be still Receive God’s love Embrace God’s gift of personhood Welcome the day and its opportunities to offer and receive blessings.I have also set times for exercise, recreation, and hobbies. When those times are snatched away by pressing emergencies, I reschedule them. This is a way of keeping my emotional and spiritual tank full. Moreover, every pastor needs to observe an extended period of time in the back of the boat, a Sabbath.I have determined to schedule my times in the stern with the same purposefulness that I schedule ministerial responsibilities. If we make rest a priority in our ministries, we will experience more delight and peace in our work. Moreover, I believe that our service will be infused with dynamic, new, creative power. Look at what Jesus was able to do after spending just a little time in the back of the boat.

A slow, savoring pace

Jesus’ ministerial style stands in direct contrast to the styles and speed of most pastors today. Jesus did calm the fears of the disciples and the storm that threatened them that night, but only at the appropriate time. Jesus did not hurry into action. He slept until he was needed. He moved at what I refer to as a “savoring pace,” a speed of ministry characterized by peace, patience, and attentiveness.According to author James Gleick, we all have become people of speed and restlessness, Type A personalities. In his book, Faster: The Acceleration of Just About Everything, Gleick asserts, “Type A is who we are—not just the coronary-proned among us, but all of us, as a society, as an age.”Moving from hurrying to savoring must be intentional. Here are some ways I practice the savoring pace: Intentionally slow down at points throughout the day. Like the devotional time, I set aside a few moments a couple of times each day for brief reflection. Write down and display words of encouragement to help resist the rush and crush of life. I call my written cues Savoring Pace Lifelines. (You may sample a few of them at my Web site: www.savoringpace.com.) Say “no” more often when you are requested to do something. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.New power comes with giving myself permission to, say, decline an offer to speak. I experience it in the refreshment of spirit I feel when I emerge from my Sabbath Day. Initially I felt guilty when I told others that I would not be available for ministry a minimum of one day a week, but that guilt evaporated when I realized that the preacher who entered the pulpit rested was more turned on about ministry and life in general.We ministers need to learn to practice “sanctified negligence.” We don’t have to justify it; the respite will justify itself in our readiness to do the things to which we say “yes.”Whatever the strategies, it is imperative that we own our power to slow down and appreciate life, loved ones, and ministry more.

For peace, be still

If the events in Mark 4 were to be performed on stage, perhaps the role that most of us could play without much rehearsal at all would be the storm itself.Yes, the storm.Most of us are walking storms, moving from one thing to the next without stopping.I have had to learn stillness; it doesn’t come naturally to me. And I find that when I do not practice stillness diligently, I am once again carried away by the winds of hurry and waves of overload.I’ve learned to watch for signs that the winds are picking up and I need to slow down—for instance, when I . … lose my sense of humor for more than a day mentally put limits on the time I can spend with my wife and children feel resentful toward others about “all I have to do” hear my youngest daughter ask, “Daddy, why do you look so sad?” rush my listening and speaking in conversations feel inflexible about my schedule get annoyed by surprises.Sometimes stillness is a struggle, but the payoff, the still-point of utter delight at being and being with God, is worth the effort.

Kirk Byron Jones is professor of ethics at Andover Newton Theological School and the author of

Rest in the Storm: Self-Care Strategies for Clergy and Other Caregivers

(Judson Press, 2001).