Chronics Overload

A fter counseling troubled marriages eight to ten hours a week for three months, I was reaching a point of emotional and physical exhaustion. My counseling load was not too heavy until I preached a sermon series on marriage. All these marriages needed the touch of the pastor’s wisdom and then all would be well again. I didn’t anticipate adding multiple counseling sessions to my schedule, or the additional time necessary to prepare for each session. And I was already being taxed by my other pastoral responsibilities.

What scared me the most was the effect this was having on me. Just the sight of my counselees at church made my heart beat faster. I went out of my way to avoid them. Impromptu conversations inevitably turned into spontaneous counseling sessions. Ministry was becoming a grind, a leeching of my strength and passion. I remember thinking this just wasn’t what I had signed up for. There were days I seriously contemplated quitting.

By the time the wave of marriage troubles subsided, I was being approached for all manner of counseling. I had never had such a heavy load. But I was a shepherd, not a professional counselor, and I simply had to balance my pastoral counseling with my pastoral calling.

One Part Pastor

Over the next few years, I developed principles that enabled me to begin to bring my counseling load undercontrol. It began with Tina. I had been counseling with Tina about her depression for a number of weeks. When she came through the greeting line after the service, I noticed her looking dull and listless. “How are you?” I asked gently. Big mistake! She began sobbing uncontrollably. Taken aback,

I excused myself from the line and led her and her husband to a place where we could talk.

Within a few minutes she regained control of herself, and she was hanging on every word I said. Her eyes were alive and bright again. I had given her some additional insights to consider. She left feeling better, and so did I. Later that afternoon at a church function, Tina again broke down crying.

I didn’t have any new insights and she and I both left depressed.

In many more meetings I talked and prayed with her. We made some progress. We discovered she had been on powerful anti-depressant drugs for years longer than recommended. Her husband spoke with her doctor about it. Yet the more we met, the more helpless I felt. I wasn’t fixing her. I knew God could heal her, and I knew he had put me in a position to help her, so I figured I had to be the problem.

It took about six months, but Tina came out of her depression. There were physical considerations addressed by competent doctors; there were the prayers of so many in our church; there were the encouraging talks with other women who would go and sit with her. Tina also took responsibility for herself as she read books and articles, and she had the unflinching support of her family.

I came home exhausted to the point of tears. I had nothing left to give. And it was only Monday.

I, too, began to see the light. One of the great burdens we can place upon ourselves as pastors is the belief that we are the one who will bring healing to someone’s hurt or problem. The reality is that we are only one part of their healing. Their own motivation to change, medical help, prayer, family and friends, and the ministry of the Holy Spirit are all parts of the healing process. To assume we are the solution to everyone’s problems is arrogant and dangerous. I have a part to play, but I am only a part. I gladly accept that restriction, embracing the fact that God uses me at all. This truth has freed me to minister to people without the unbearable burden of being their counseling savior.

He’s Got Low Hopes

After six sessions of pre-marital counseling, the first wedding I ever performed ended in divorce six months later. I felt like a terrible failure. The couple, both in their teens, had never thought of getting married until she got pregnant. Their spiritual maturity was about as developed as their emotional maturity, but I only saw my apparent inadequacies in my counseling of them.

While most of us receive only scant preparation in seminary, we are expected to be counseling experts. Early in my ministry I truly believed a person would get better if I gave them the right information, the right Scriptures, and the right encouragement. That’s what happened to all the people in the books I was reading! The counselor offered a “magic bullet,” the counselee had an “aha!” moment, and everyone lived happily ever after.

A man named Mike rescued me from this dangerous idea.

Mike was not a churchgoer, but his marriage was on the rocks. We had been meeting for about a month when it became clear that, despite my best advice, things weren’t getting better. In fact, they were getting worse. I felt defeated. One morning, as he stood to leave, Mike said, “You know, Pastor, you didn’t make a mess out of my marriage,

I did. If it doesn’t work out, it won’t be your fault. It will be mine. I just want you to know how much I appreciate your spending time with me and listening to me and trying to help me.” Stunned, I mumbled a quiet thanks. Mike had freed me.

Up until then, I took a couple’s marriage failure as my personal failure. I soon learned that most troubled marriages have been that way for a long time. Ingrained sinful habits aren’t going away with one or two hours of counseling a week, and not at all if the person is resistant to change. I was surprised to find my advice was often ignored or disregarded. I began to recognize the difference between a temporary emotional breakthrough and lasting change. The light dawning in a counselee’s eyes bears no bankable promise, and I soon learned to lower my expectations and to wait for an enduring commitment to change

Linda asked to counsel with me. At first we met to discuss her loneliness, but as she kept making more appointments to meet with me, the subjects she wanted to talk about changed. One week she struggled with loneliness, so I gave her some things to work on.The next week when we met to discuss her progress on the issue we had discussed, she informed me that another issue was dominating her thought life. After a few months of this,

I deduced she was treating her loneliness by meeting with me.

Then there’s Bud. Bud was in a struggling marriage. He was also an emotional yo-yo. Although I met with Bud weekly, he soon started calling my house.

“Do you have five minutes to talk?”

“Sure, Bud.”

Then he would talk for an hour without taking a breath. About that time the movie What About Bob? came out, a comedy about the nettlesome guy you can’t ditch. I didn’t laugh, I cringed. I had a Bob. My “Bob” was sucking me dry emotionally and using valuable time for fruitless discussions, because I had set no boundaries.

Sign on the Dotted Line

It was then that I developed a counseling policy, contract, and worksheet. Now, in my first counseling session with new people, I hand them my counseling contract. They must complete and sign the contract before I agree to meet with them again.

The contract requires them to respond to the following questions:

(1) The one specific thing I aim to accomplish in this counseling period is ______. (This must be a specific goal. “Becoming more godly,” or “overcoming my problems” is acceptable. The goal must be stated in one or two sentences.)

(2)The reason I need to speak with a pastor and not someone else is because ______. (Everyone wants to talk to the pastor. I require them to make a strong case for seeing the pastor. Often the issues they raise can be referred to others in our church.)

In the instance when a prior counselee wants to meet with me again, I have questions for them as well.

(1) The new attitude or resolve I bring to counseling this time is _____. (This is especially for repeat counselees who did not work diligently at their earlier problem, but who consumed lots of my time. I want to know for certain they are serious before we begin another round.)

(2) The amount of time I am asking of the pastor is _____. (How many meetings are they expecting? I no longer enter open-ended counseling situations. Counseling can quickly become a discipleship program, and there are other opportunities for that. Some people just want a one-on-one with the pastor. If a form comes to me without a specific number, it is returned. Furthermore, I, not the counselee, determine the final number of counseling sessions.)

I’m Sorry, Our Time Is Up

I came home one night from another session exhausted to the point of tears. I had nothing left to give, and it was only Monday. I find counseling challenging and emotionally taxing. It requires deep concentration, full compassion, more wisdom than I usually have, and often ends with the counselee feeling invigorated and me feeling drained. As a result my wife endured a lifeless husband, emotionally wrung-out. My sermon preparation time was rapidly shrinking, my messages were suffering, and my time was literally being consumed by counseling.

I went to my elder board and explained the situation. They were understanding and suggested that I limit my load. I had never thought of that. Whenever I had been presented with a spiritual need, I had always assumed that I was required to meet every one. I had never even considered the possibility of saying “I’m sorry, I simply don’t have room in my schedule for any more counseling sessions. I’m already in over my head.” Having that kind of permission is freeing, and although I don’t use it often, it gives me great peace of mind

I also began limiting my counseling sessions to one hour. If the counselee showed up 10 minutes late, they had 50 minutes instead of 60 to meet with me. If a counselee was more than 15 minutes late, they were to assume the meeting was canceled.

My counseling policy stipulates there will be homework assigned for virtually every meeting. No counselee is allowed to make an appointment unless the homework is completed.

I also no longer meet with anyone on a weekly basis. This allows me to meet with more people. And it gives time for my advice to be digested and implemented. Lifelong habits aren’t changed overnight. It often takes several weeks for the counselee to do what I have suggested.

And I limited the number of meetings I have with any one person. I will meet with someone for two months, followed by a mandatory three-month break. This gives them time to work on the issues in light of our discussions, and it gives me a light at the end of the tunnel. Counseling is no longer a terminal affair.

Share the Load

When we were dealing with Tina’s depression, I noticed her husband, Brent, had a real heart for people. To be honest, he had more of a counselor’s heart than I did. With some training, I thought, Brent might enjoy a counseling ministry. When I approached him with the idea, Brent was enthusiastic. We sent him to several conferences, and he soon became an effective counselor and helped to lighten my load.

Also, as the elders saw how overwhelmed I was, they went out of their way to talk with people. We trained prayer counselors for those who wanted to talk with someone after the worship services. From this group we discovered more gifted counselors. Soon my counseling load was diminishing, while others were feeling fulfilled using their gifts to encourage discouraged people. I have learned I am not the only one who can “fix their problem.” In the occasional instance where the counseling situation is clearly over my head, I feel free to refer the person to a qualified Christian professional, but let them know I am keeping tabs on their progress and keeping them in prayer. In this way I still act as their shepherd.

These few principles revolutionized my counseling ministry. I no longer fear counseling or its effects on me. I can’t fix anyone, but I can make a difference in a lot of lives for Jesus Christ, which is precisely what I signed up for.

Dan Schaeffer is senior pastor of Shoreline Community Church in Santa Barbara, California.

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