\nFor the third time in a week, Ed Hastings burst into my office with a health\ncrisis-only this time, it was really serious. He threw his arms around me\nand began to weep. “Pastor Matt,” he choked, “you better start planning my\nfuneral. I think I have AIDS.”<\/p>\n\n
\nAs it turned out, Ed had never engaged in high-risk behavior nor been tested\nfor aids. It was simply Ed’s way to up the ante on his personal problems.<\/p>\n\n
\nSo as he clung to me, sobbing and shaking, I began to mentally list his other\nailments. Over the past seven years, Ed had called the Mercy Ambulance crew\nfor a half dozen alleged heart attacks (one during a worship service), two\ncases of dehydration (he forgot to drink), an ulcer, and a possible hernia\n(it was just a pulled groin muscle). I also recalled my tri-weekly sessions\nto deal with Ed’s depression, addictions (including pot, sex, alcohol,\nprescription drugs-to date), suicidal thoughts, relational crises, employment\nstruggles, family problems.<\/p>\n\n
\nFor six years I had pastored Ed through every crisis, praying with him in\ncountless hospitals and emergency rooms. But his “AIDS crisis”\nwas the last straw. I finally realized that Ed’s soul functioned like a sieve:\nthe more I poured in, the more he leaked out. After dozens of crisis counseling\nsessions, Ed was still looking to me to fill him up, and my arm was weary\nfrom pouring.<\/p>\n\n
\nEd represents a growing subgroup in our increasingly dysfunctional society.\nCarl George calls them EGRs-the Extra-Grace-Required parishioners.\nGordon MacDonald prefers VDPs-Very Draining People. I like\nCWN—the Chronically Wounded and Needy parishioner.<\/p>\n\n
\nLike Ed, every CWN is, first, deeply wounded. Often tramautized\nby abuse, abandonment, or family dysfunction, CWNs limp through\nlife. Their wounds are real, though they develop self-defeating methods to\nseek healing.<\/p>\n\n
\nSecond, CWN parishioners exude neediness. They are often clear\nabout who can cure their neediness-the pastor, who is friend, guru, and handy\ntherapist. So they hang around church. They cling. If ignored, they may pout\nor perhaps create a new crisis-anything to get the focus back on their needs.<\/p>\n\n
\nThird, this is usually a chronic condition. There is no quick fix-a fact\nI have often failed to appreciate. Instead, I have thrown myself into fixing\na schizophrenic young mother, a transvestite father of three, a teenager\nwith fetal alcohol syndrome, a young woman with borderline personality disorder,\nand, of course, Ed the hypochondriac. But after emptying my bag of pastoral\ntools, most of these people were still wounded and broken.<\/p>\n\n
\nBy demanding so much and giving so little, people like Ed leave their pastors-and\noften the church-feeling confused, tired, and frustrated. How can we minister\nto the chronically wounded and needy without feeling chronically tired and\nused up?<\/p>\n\n
\nCWNs burn up pastoral fuel and then press harder on the\naccelerator. It’s easy to resent their presence. Healthier church members\noften gossip or gripe about CWNs. “Remember, Pastor,” a pillar\nof the church sternly warned me, “that element (referring to a few\nCWNs) doesn’t pay the bills around here.”<\/p>\n\n
\nBut I can’t imagine Jesus gossiping about those chronically wounded lepers\nor griping about that incredibly needy Gerasene demoniac. Christ accepted\nthem. He touched them. He healed them. True, Jesus spent only a minority\nof his time with the chronically needy, but there was space in his schedule\nfor some powerful ministry encounters with CWNs. Jesus never\nanesthetized his heart to the hurt that surrounded him.<\/p>\n\n
\nI try to remember that every CWN is bearing a painful soul\nwound. Consider Mike, who for years struggled with deep-seated transvestitism.\nMost people couldn’t or didn’t want to understand Mike’s struggles. They\nnever listened long enough to hear the incredible brokenness in Mike’s past:\ntwo abusive older brothers who ridiculed his masculinity, a needy mother\nwho dressed him in girl’s clothing, and a violent father who affirmed only\nlittle girls. This doesn’t justify Mike’s sinful choices (something he freely\nacknowledges), but it shows that Mike the very draining person is also Mike\nthe very damaged person.<\/p>\n\n
\nPrayer helps me cultivate an attitude of acceptance for CWNs.\nAs Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “I can no longer condemn or hate a brother\nfor whom I pray, no matter how much trouble he causes me” (or how much he\ndrains me). “His face, that hitherto may have been strange and intolerable\nto me, is transformed into the countenance of a brother for whom Christ died,\nthe face of a forgiven sinner.”<\/p>\n\n
\nCWNs are not just a category; they are precious souls for\nwhom Christ died. They may drain me of resources, but Jesus continues to\nweep and wait for their healing. So I must begin and continue my ministry\nwith the wounded and needy by quietly, humbly accepting them as Jesus accepts\nthem.<\/p>\n\n
\nThis may seem a contradiction to acceptance, but only if we confuse that\nwith availability. They are not the same.<\/p>\n
\nChronically wounded people usually overdose on an unlimited supply of pastoral\navailability. Like Ed Hastings, they often expect, even demand, my availability—\nanytime with any crisis. It was a perfect match: I was chronically available;\nEd remained chronically needy. I reinforced his clergy-dependence; Ed reinforced\nmy need to be needed.<\/p>\n\n
\nThe solution was simple but painful: communicate clear boundaries. Lovingly\nbut firmly, I lowered Ed’s expectations of my availability. When Ed entered\na 21-day treatment program for marijuana addiction (his fourth treatment\nprogram), I expressed my concern and promised my prayer support, but I told\nEd I would not visit him during this inpatient program: “Ed, you are too\ndependent on others, and I want to give you the space you need to grow strong\nin God’s love.”<\/p>\n\n
\nThis may seem blunt, but Ed never grasped all my hints and implied boundaries.\nWorking with people like Ed has led me to three principles regarding\nboundary-setting:<\/p>\n\n
\n\n 1. I must take the initiative. If I don’t, people like Ed will innocently\n assume total pastoral availability.\n
\n 2. Boundaries must be specific, clearly defining when and where I will be\n available. Vague boundaries won’t work.\n
\n 3. With love and gentleness, I must verbalize boundaries and then lovingly\n stand my ground.\n<\/p>\n\n<\/blockquote>\n\nJohn, an emotionally broken 20-year-old, had a knack for calling me at home\nduring critical family times-supper, bedtime stories, sibling rivalries,\n“Home Improvement.” His timing was uncanny. (I think he bugged the house).\nFinally, I set the following boundary: “I’d love to talk to you, John, but\nI can’t accept calls at home anymore. If you call me at church, I’ll give\nyou my full attention.” It may take a few more supper-hour calls, but it’s\nimportant to stand by my boundary-for my family’s sake, and for John’s sake.<\/p>\n\n
\nBoundary setting has felt cold and unpastoral. I believe it’s necessary for\npastoral effectiveness. For the CWN, it can foster spiritual\ngrowth. Henri Nouwen calls this the “ministry of absence.” Without establishing\nclear boundaries, Nouwen contends, “We ministers have become so available\nthat there is too much presence and too little leaving . . . too much of\nus and too little of God and his Spirit.”<\/p>\n\n
\nI have sometimes been so available that needy people used me as a substitute\nhigh priest. Unwittingly, I usurped Christ’s role in the sanctification process.\nBy prayerfully limiting my availability, I’m encouraging CWNs\nto stand up straight and receive the healing that only Christ can give.<\/p>\n\n
Pursue servanthood, not “success”<\/h2>
\nFor the first six years of my ministry, I assumed I could solve every\nCWN’s problem.<\/p>\n\n
\nIt never occurred to me that some deeply wounded people might go backward\ninstead of forward. After renewing his commitment to Christ, Mike vanished,\nmost likely rejoining the transvestite subculture of Las Vegas. Darlene,\na schizophrenic mother with a young son, started a new “wonder” drug, regained\ncustody of her son, and even joined our church choir. Within four months,\neverything had unraveled. Darlene left the church, lost her son, and returned\nto the local psychiatric ward.<\/p>\n\n
\nMinistering to CWNs involves an openness to failure. I won’t\nhelp every CWN. I may take all the right steps-sowing the\nseed, tilling the ground, watering the vulnerable plant-and still see no\nfruit. Or if a small harvest is reaped, it may take years of toil and sweat.<\/p>\n\n
\nThis reality challenges my notion of pastoring. I prefer—sometimes\ndemand—success. At the least, I want to avoid failure. So I gravitate toward\npeople who will make me look and feel successful about my ministry. The\nchronically wounded usually don’t qualify as success-enhancers.<\/p>\n\n
\nThey do, however, qualify as servanthood-enhancers. People like Ed, Mike,\nand Darlene have taught me a profound lesson: servanthood, not success, is\nmy calling. Success is about me, my need for approval and control; servanthood\nis about God, my heart’s longing to glorify him.<\/p>\n\n
\nSo pastoring the deeply wounded is actually a gift. It exposes my impatience\nand self-centered agendas about ministry. Slowly, painfully, I relinquish\nmy unholy hankering for success. Then, as Jesus calls me into the freedom\nof servanthood, I can wait quietly for the Holy Spirit to heal in his way\nand in his timing.<\/p>\n\n
Encourage spiritual growth<\/h2>
\nUnlike the paralytic who picked up his bed and walked home, a\nCWN parishioner might roll off his mat and crawl a few feet.\nThe spiritual learning curve is abnormally long and flat. That’s the bad\nnews. On the bright side, there’s always lots of room for growth. And since\nGod can make it happen, I can join with him by faithfully encouraging spiritual\ngrowth.<\/p>\n\n
\nI like to support small steps of spiritual growth by asking two simple questions:<\/p>\n
\n1. What goals would you like to set?<\/p>\n\n
\n2. What gifts would you like to share?<\/p>\n\n
\nThe first question deals with spiritual goal setting<\/em>. Consider Christ’s\ndirect approach to blind Bartimaeus: “What do you want me to do for you?”\n(Mark 10:51). Recently, as Ed complained about a new crisis in his life,\nI interrupted and asked a similar question: “Ed, by God’s grace working in\nyou, what can you do-just one thing-to make your life better?”<\/p>\n\n
\nEd was stunned. For over three decades Ed cruised in spiritual reverse, or\nin his better moments, spun his tires in the ditch. It never occurred to\nhim that he could move forward in the spiritual life.<\/p>\n\n
\nMuch to my surprise, Ed returned a week later with not one but two goals:\nhe wanted to finish his ged, and he wanted to pray every morning. Obviously,\ntwo goals won’t place Ed on the expressway of discipleship. But at least\nEd now views spiritual growth as an option.<\/p>\n\n
\nThe second question is “What gifts can you share?” Because they’re hurting,\nmany CWNs are mired in a taker-mode. Ed spent hours every\nweek dwelling on his problems, taking from me, taking from his family, taking\nfrom the church. But then again, we let him. We never invited Ed to offer\nsomething in return.<\/p>\n\n
\nI now assume that eventually even the deeply wounded can share gifts with\nthe congregation. I prefer the direct approach: “What gifts can you share\nto enrich the body of Christ?” Or, more bluntly, “What can you do around\nhere for God?”<\/p>\n\n
\nOne CWN parishioner was thrilled to bake the bread for our\nCommunion service. Recently I asked an emotionally disturbed adolescent boy\nto serve as my “worship prep specialist.” Every Saturday night he prepares\nthe sanctuary for the Sunday service.<\/p>\n\n
\nAll this pastoral encouragement may lead only to little spiritual goals,\nlittle gift sharing. But for the CWN, any progress is big.<\/p>\n\n
Connect with other resources<\/h2>
\nI can’t do everything for my CWNs. I cannot provide the long-term\ntherapeutic relationship that is sometimes required. I cannot give medical\nadvice. I cannot pay the rent. I cannot fill the role of omnipresent\nmentor-friend-guide.<\/p>\n\n
\nThis simple fact forces me to collaborate with other resources. Obviously,\nI need to network with the medical community, good counselors, and social\nservice agencies. But we often neglect one handy and free resource-the body\nof Christ. Some saints will balk at the idea of helping the emotionally needy.\nBut I’ve found saints just waiting to be asked, who will volunteer as mentors,\nfriends, or lay counselors.<\/p>\n
\nAn experienced grandma in our church walked Darlene through the darkest days\nof her schizophrenia. I asked Dick, a retired engineer and widower, to mentor\nsome foster boys; last summer he hauled them to weekly softball practices.\nEveryone benefits from these connections-me, the mentors, and the wounded.<\/p>\n\n
\nWorking with CWNs also requires that I connect with resources\nfor myself. I love my needy parishioners, but they can reduce my spiritual\nflame to a dim flicker. Then my soul longs for my mentor, a godly pastor\nfriend, who reignites my passion.<\/p>\n\n
Keep bringing them to Jesus<\/h2>
\nEarly in my ministry, I told my seminary adviser about my first encounter\nwith an entire family of CWN parishioners. His advice was\nsimple, direct, and (so it seemed at the time) incredibly shallow: “Just\nkeep bringing them to Jesus.” I was disappointed. Actually, the next day\nI was a bit disgusted. This guy gets paid to train pastors, I thought,\nhe writes articles on ministry, he leads workshops on pastoral care—he even\nhas a doctorate! And that’s the best he can do: “Keep bringing them to\nJesus”?<\/em><\/p>\n
\nI think I finally know what he was saying: “As a pastor you are just a little\nchannel for Christ’s love and grace. You—your wisdom and counseling techniques,\neven your love—are not the source of healing. Christ is the Source. So never\nforget your primary calling—to bring needy people into the presence of Jesus.”<\/p>\n\n
\nHis unadorned advice constantly points to my greatest resource in ministering\nto the wounded—prayer. Not just praying for<\/em> people, but praying\nwith<\/em> them, entering the presence of Jesus together. “The ministry\nof prayer for healing,” writes Leanne Payne, a veteran in praying for the\ndeeply wounded, “consists simply of learning to invoke the Presence of the\nLord, of coming into that Presence with the needy one, and there listening\nfor the healing word that God is always sending to the wounded and alienated.”<\/p>\n\n
\nToo often I’ve neglected the incredible resource of healing prayer. For five\nyears I ministered to David, a young CWN struggling with\ndepression, low self-esteem, loneliness, and a constant barrage of dark and\nfearful dreams. All of these combined to create a deep sense of spiritual\noppression and hopelessness.<\/p>\n\n
\nFor five years I helped David. I offered advice. I encouraged him. I listened.\nI set goals with him. I prayed for him.<\/p>\n\n
\nGod used my efforts, but I always sensed that David needed something more.\nHe needed to encounter Jesus, not just me. So after a worship service, I\nquietly anointed David with oil and prayed with him, bringing him into Christ’s\nhealing presence. I simply asked Jesus to reveal his love deep into David’s\nheart, even into the hopelessness and fear. I’ll never know the long-term\nresults of those prayers, but I do know that something shifted in David’s\nsoul. The dark dreams disappeared. The hopelessness lifted. More important,\nthe focus of David’s life was reoriented from his neediness to Christ’s love\nand power. David is still wounded and needy, but he’s also trusting Christ\nto heal and transform him.<\/p>\n\n
\nHealing prayer (or “bringing people to Jesus”) is not a quick fix. It doesn’t\nbypass the process of slow, steady growth. It doesn’t remove the need for\npastoral acceptance, encouragement, boundaries, even professional counseling\nor lay mentoring. Sometimes it simply reorients the wounded and needy, directing\nthem to the proper source of healing-Christ. Then like David, the chronically\nwounded and needy can become the continually transformed and hopeful.<\/p>\n\n