SEVERAL YEARS INTO a harried ministry, I began to break down. No mentor had ever explained to me how to handle the stresses of a growing church and a growing family. One Saturday evening I sat behind the orange couch in our den and began to cry. When I got hold of my emotions, I called Steve, our counselor on staff, and said, "I've been crying. I am no psychologist, but I know enough to know I need help."

"I saw this coming," Steve said. "I have contacted a counselor who specializes in management-level stress. His name is Jerry. He is waiting for your call."

During my initial consultation, Jerry gave me a battery of simple tests. He scored the results and said, "I can help you. Ten sessions ought to do it."

I checked with my insurance company and discovered the sessions were not covered in our policy. I told my wife, "I don't think we can afford $500."

She replied, "It will be worth every penny if he can get you fixed for only $500. It's worth that much to stay in the ministry."

I made the ...