Ministry's Deadly Undertow - Christianity Today

Did Jesus ever say to himself, “Oh, no! Not him again”? Maybe not, but I sure have.

As the associate pastor of care and counseling for our church, I’m immersed every day in what I refer to as the deadly d’s—death, depression, distress, debt, disease, church discipline, divorce, and general disobedience.

In the summer of 1998, the deadly d’s almost drowned me.

I was called as a growing church plant’s first associate pastor. I began with varied responsibilities. As we grew and added more staff, I delegated many of my duties to focus on counseling. I was honing in on my passion. But I soon discovered that the accumulated weight of other people’s burdens made full-time counseling much more difficult than part-time.

That summer, the weight was pulling me under. I was carrying too many burdens, and I felt wounded as criticism and conflict shook my confidence. I’d seen anxiety and had heard others describe panic attacks, but this time I was the anxiety-ridden one. My heart was racing, my body shaking. Doubt gripped me: What have I gotten myself into? Maybe I’m not cut out to do this.

Something had to change. The congregation would continue to come to me with their problems, and the severity of the problems would only escalate. Amid the perpetual stream of wounded, troubled, and chronically needy people, how could I avoid cynicism and maintain a joyful spirit? I knew I had to come up with long-term solutions for serving those under my care without drowning in the despair.

Through my crisis of faith, I found some safeguards that preserve my joy and my wits when surrounded by deadly d’s.

I’m no Atlas

Brad and I had known each other for a long time. He was a leader in our church, and we met together often. I respected him. One day he confessed to me that he was entangled in multiple affairs. I was stunned. Because of our friendship, I felt personally wounded.

I could have been crushed by Brad’s pain, disheartened by my disappointment with his choices. But the first safeguard I learned is that I cannot take upon my shoulders how far someone has fallen or how much they hurt. That’s simply the starting point I’ve been given to work with. I’ve learned to tell myself, Their stuff is not my stuff. I can only be responsible for the counsel I give from this point on.

3 John 4, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth,” gave me a new perspective on those who come to me for counsel. I see them as people seeking to walk in the truth. Rather than despairing their brokenness, I rejoice in every positive step they take, no matter how small.

For Brad, his confession alone was something to rejoice in. He was breaking the silence and reaching out for help. Brad demonstrated a teachable spirit when he relinquished his leadership position. Though he hadn’t yet dealt with his wife and mistresses, I could rejoice that God had made Brad conscious of his sin.

I realize not everyone who walks into my office will take the appropriate steps afterward. Sometimes they’ll get angry with me for suggesting those steps.

In those cases, I need another safeguard against discouragement.

Where’s the applause?

Sally Field delivered a famous line at the Academy Awards ceremony: “You like me! You really like me!”

I admit I want people to like me, too. But ultimately a counselor cannot serve people well while being a people pleaser.

I sometimes have to play the role of a prophet. I’ve had to warn wayward Christians, confront a man in his workplace, tell a team member to resign his post, and inform a couple that I would not perform their wedding because I was convinced their marriage was wrong. They may not like me any more than the Israelites liked Isaiah, and they may lash out in anger.

In those moments I find strength and peace in knowing I stand on the foundation of truth, fulfilling my God-ordained role. I know that if they get angry, it’s not with me, it’s with the truth. When I’ve carefully made sure I’m not just offering personal opinions, I can say, “You may not like me for it, but your real beef is with God.”

At the end of the day, I want to hear my Father say, “Linton, well done.” The desire to please God more than people has become a protection, a thick skin against the disapproval of others.

Occasionally I must remind myself, It’s not about me. My first priority is to be faithful to the Lord. I am responsible for being a dispenser of truth and grace, not for how others respond. If those I counsel don’t like me for it, or if they don’t follow my counsel, I can rest knowing I have done what pleases God.

A right attitude and properly thickened skin can safeguard me from drowning in the deadly d’s, but if I want to swim, I must also buoy my heart.

Pre-prayer-ation

Several years ago, my wife and I were making travel plans to spend Christmas with some relatives. I had reason to suspect that this family meeting might not be pleasant. I was not looking forward to it.

After Thanksgiving, I began spiritually preparing for Christmas with the relatives. Perhaps I should call it “pre-prayering.” Every day I awoke with prayer on my lips. I repeatedly said to God, “I will not allow anyone or anything to rob me of the joy you intend for me this season.” And I meant it.

I had been stirred by John 15:11, “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” I was determined to tenaciously pursue that joy. A stressful holiday was going to be the first big test of my newfound pursuit.

That Christmas was one of the best I’d ever had. It wasn’t because the people or circumstances were different, but because I had changed. I was able to celebrate without fears and frustrations distracting me.

It occurred to me, if this works for Christmas, maybe it will work all year round. Since then I have pre-prayered every morning, rejoicing in the day God has made, and resolving before God not to allow anyone or anything to rob me of his joy that day. I have come to expect joy.

I’ve also added a second prayer to my morning: “May I be an encouragement to someone today, and may someone encourage me.” Praying for it daily helps me spot small encouragements I might otherwise miss.

Usually my prayer is answered with people’s words, letters, and sometimes gifts. But the encouragement I appreciate most is witnessing others take up my passion of being sensitive to the needs around them.

One Sunday when I was called on to preach, a woman approached me just five minutes before the service began. She was visibly distressed and began unloading her burdens on me. I needed to prepare myself for preaching, but she had me cornered. Just then, a man in the congregation walked over to us. “Pastor Linton,” he said, “you need to get ready for the service. Let me spend some time listening to this lady.” He rescued me, and I was delighted nearly to tears at his sensitivity.

I recognized that man as an answer to my prayer for encouragement. Every day now I look for answers like him, people who wade into the deadly d’s with me, people who encourage me by proving I’m not in this alone.

Linton Lundeen is the associate pastor of care and counseling at Valley Evangelical Free Church, West Des Moines, Iowa. linton.lundeen@vefc.com.

Imagine how freeing it would be to live like Jesus, not ruled by people’s opinions, to only be concerned about God’s view of us, thus freeing us to care for others with honest words.

Most of us get consumed with how we come across to people. We hunger for their approval. But Jesus describes a new way to care for people, one unconcerned with their opinion of us, one in which we have both compassion and candor, making our relationships real. Jesus said: “He who speaks on his own does so to gain honor for himself, but he who works for the honor of the one who sent him is a man of truth; there is nothing false about him” (John 7:18).