13 Your Ministry Marathon: Preparing Yourself to Go the Distance

Your Ministry Marathon

Preparing Yourself to

Go the Distance

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.

Transformations come only as we go the long way round, only as we’re willing to walk a different, longer, more arduous, more inward, more prayerful route.

I was done. I mean really done. So done that I wasn’t sure I even wanted to go back to church at all anymore.

After just two years of working in full-time ministry, I had endured all that I could. I started out confident and passionate. But after just two years, I felt like an ill-equipped, outnumbered failure.

The late nights, early mornings, and weekends away from family; difficult conversations; and criticisms left me feeling abused and accused. I had spent the last few months trying to convince myself that my current state of exhaustion and discouragement was part of fulfilling my calling of leading children to Jesus. But my strong will was writing checks my soul couldn’t cash.

It’s true there were things beyond my control that led me to step out of my first ministry much sooner than I anticipated. But now, many years down the road, I have to admit that the real responsibility for my emotional and spiritual (un)health rested solely with me.

I now realized that in the end no one else could monitor or protect me from the wear and tear of ministry. No one else could have told me when to say “when.”

I hope I’ve caught you early enough. I hope that for you, saying “when” doesn’t mean quitting but taking a deeper look at your emotional health and making the self-care changes you need to make before it’s too late. Too many of us wait until we are spent before doing anything different. And once we get to that place, we may choose to get out of the game for good or sideline ourselves until our passion returns again.

Injury Prevention: It’s So Much Easier

After working with hundreds of children’s ministers over the past few years, I have now heard dozens of stories like mine. The names and the details may change, but the plot is always the same: a fresh, passionate, children’s ministry worker launches and then leaves ministry broken and confused.

The good news (if there is any good news in my story of premature exhaustion and resignation) is that plenty of variables in my ministry were within my control. I know now that different choices on my part would have led to a healthier outcome.

The best comparison I can come up with is a sports analogy. Let’s talk injury prevention. When an athlete is playing a sport, there is always the risk of injury. In the heat of competition, an athlete’s adrenaline rush will push them beyond what they have done in their training. An athlete in top athletic condition has a body that can endure being pushed, but when a body hasn’t been properly conditioned, pushing too hard almost always results in an injury.

My husband plays on a recreational soccer team. They only play one game on the weekend. There are no practices. There is no coach telling them what kind of workouts they should do during the week. Some of the players have a good workout routine on their own, but others are swallowed up by the daily grind of work and family responsibilities. For some players, the once-a-week, Sunday afternoon game is their only athletic outlet all week.

They really look forward to their games. It’s a great way to blow off steam, see friends, and get a little exercise. The downside is how many of the players get injured and how frequently they are sidelined by those injuries. By contrast, the few players who have tended to their own conditioning pop up from a fall like nothing happened and get right back in the game.

I hope you’re already seeing the connection to ministry. Once we step into a leadership position in ministry, we often lose our “spiritual trainer,” who has kept us in good emotional and spiritual shape. When our trainer (our pastor) becomes our boss, something shifts. And often, without realizing it, we are on our own to fall into the bad habits of urgency and lousy self-care.

Without an intentional coach or mentor, we can easily find ourselves becoming a lot like casual weekend soccer players. We play hard, giving it everything we’ve got, not even thinking about the possibility of an injury.

It is the rare church that assigns a mentor or hires a coach for their children’s ministry director. If that is something you don’t already have, you owe it to your ministry to seek one out.

Whether in athletics or life or ministry, your coach will tell you that your daily practices determine your overall success. When a hundred priorities fly at us every week, it can be difficult to carve out time for tasks that don’t yield immediate results. But without a stubborn attention to little, daily habits, our souls are ripe for injury and burnout.

I experience seasons when I’m more awake to the things of God, when I seem to be able to see traces of God in every segment of my life. And then, boom, a time of incredible spiritual dryness comes, as if out of nowhere.

When I hit those desert times, I let my busyness and being overwhelmed set my priorities. And like Peter, who, after taking a few amazing steps on the water, couldn’t keep his eyes off of the urgent, tumbling waves around him, I start to sink. The little habits keeping me emotionally and spiritually healthy fly out the window, and I let the churn of my surroundings define the state of my soul. Maybe you can relate.

If you’re in a healthy place emotionally and spiritually today, it’s a good time to take inventory of your regular practices. If you’re in an unhealthy place, it’s an even better time.

Write your answers to the following, and refer to them every couple of months to make sure you are still conditioning your soul. If you are in a healthy place, the answers to these questions will become your spiritual/emotional preventative maintenance plan.

Based on your answers, how would you describe the state of your emotional and spiritual health these days? As you look at your rhythm of self-care (or lack thereof), do you see any warning lights on the dashboard of your soul? Just to keep things interesting and to create a little sense of accountability, share the results of this inventory with someone you trust, and open yourself to their input.

Proverbs 4:23 says, “Above all else, guard your heart.” Taking time to tend to your soul is not an elective course for people in ministry. It is a prerequisite for everything else you’ll be trying to do.

Paying Attention to Warning Lights

There comes a point, for some of us, when it might be too late for prevention. It happened to me. I thought I was coping, when in fact I was spiraling out of control. I was depressed, sleep deprived, and consistently on the edge of my next emotional outburst. I was running on urgency adrenaline and caffeine most of the time.

There were warning signs along the way. I just refused to pay attention. I took on too many little tasks (“Oh, I can take care of that”; “Sure, let me take that one”), imagining a mystical future when I would magically have time to get everything done. I was sure I was strong enough to power through.

The cause was so important. It was worth the cost. I would put my head down and never, never, never give up. To an outsider, I might have appeared to be full of faith and hope for the ministry, but on the inside I was crumbling. The only problem was that I didn’t know it. Jeremiah was right when he said, “The heart is deceitful above all things” (Jeremiah 19:9 NKJV). I became the victim of my own deceptive heart.

God has wired us with coping mechanisms designed to help us cope with short-term stress. It’s amazing the ability we have to power through when the situation calls for it. We can skip sleep once in a while, but after months of living sleep deprived on adrenaline, what was meant to help us over a hump can become an ongoing lifestyle, a self-destructive lifestyle.

My favorite defense mechanism is denial. If given a choice between blaming, projection, passive-aggressive behavior, or any of those other defense mechanisms we learned in Psychology 101, I will choose denial every time. Over the years, I have perfected my denial skills. I’m like a denial ninja.

I believed that I was showing the love of Christ and being mature enough to forgive. Really, I was ignoring my heart and my body’s warning signs, absolutely confident that the best way to deal with my sense of failure and hurt was to ignore it.

I felt rejected and criticized, overworked and underappreciated. And rather than deal with those realities, I kept my game face on and powered through the next big event with as much passion and flair as I could muster.

My denial disguised itself as forgiveness. It might have been more appropriately called fauxgiveness. Though I had chosen to forgive those who had wounded me, it was fake forgiveness until I had dealt with the depth of my own coming apart. The Band-aid on the wound was just not big enough to cover the growing infection, and some ugly things were happening in my soul.

It’s as if I believed it would be weak and unspiritual to acknowledge that I was not in an emotionally healthy place. So I put on my best “Christian” face and redoubled my efforts to try harder to serve God.

Though I had prayed (oh, had I prayed!), I wasn’t praying the honest laments that fill the psalms as much as I was somehow trying to protect Jesus’ reputation (crazy, I know). I mean, if the gospel really is good news, and I am its representative, Jesus needs me to get my act together. The lives of so many kids depend on it. Not that any of these thoughts were conscious to me at the time, but looking back, this seems to be the narrative I was telling myself.

Eventually, something had to give. The day I realized I could no longer trust myself is the day I began to find my freedom.

Though I could have qualified as a card-carrying member of the Walking Wounded Club, I didn’t know it. I missed the signs. They were there all along, but I couldn’t see them. I thought I had the whole situation under control.

Warning Sign 1: Concerned Friends and Family

Though I wasn’t seeking clarity or perspective from a coach, a counselor, or a mentor, I was fortunate enough to have family members who saw what I couldn’t see. They raised questions about my health. They observed that I seemed to have lost my appetite for fun or that I wasn’t getting enough sleep.

In my state of self-deception, I thought that those things made me a better Christian and a better children’s minister. Even though I didn’t know what I was supposed to do to change, I could have taken this warning sign as an invitation to finally ask for help—not for the ministry but for me.

Warning Sign 2: The Martyr Complex

I’m sure my responses to my concerned friends and family sounded more than a little condescending and self-righteous. Yes, I was sacrificing my own life for the sake of the ministry. It’s what ministry is all about. I knew it would be hard when I started.

The crazy thing is that despite throwing myself at my work with selfless abandon, I wasn’t receiving any accolades or earning any medals from my colleagues or the church’s leadership. No problem. After all, I perform for an Audience of One anyway.

I thought my busyness and exhaustion made me better than the rest of my friends, but no one seemed to be impressed (which only made me want to sacrifice more). When we give up the things we need to do this work—like sleep or sabbath or a life outside of ministry—for the sake of the work, it never works out.

Warning Sign 3: Personality Changes

By nature, I am pretty easygoing, but you sure wouldn’t have known it in this season of my life. Ordinarily it takes quite a bit to get me upset or angry, but all that changed—drastically.

Something as simple as a finicky copy machine could send me over the edge. I’m too embarrassed to tell about the times I lost my temper with volunteers and parents. For the most part I was professional enough, but every now and then I could see their faces drop as my tone became biting and harsh.

I’m amazed now that it never occurred to me that crying myself to sleep over something that had happened that day had become normal more nights than not. I was slowly becoming someone that I didn’t recognize. I distinctly remember running into the bathroom at the church because I couldn’t hold back the tears after a conversation in which someone attempted to encourage me, but all I heard was criticism.

The real Annette, the optimist to a fault, the happy-go-lucky life of the party, was transforming into an earnest, bitter, sadder person. There were still moments of the fun-loving, silly Annette—most often when I was in front of a group of kids “performing.” But I was becoming a person I didn’t like very much, and worst of all, I couldn’t even see it.

Warning Sign 4: Isolation

Church work can be lonely. So many times I felt like I couldn’t and shouldn’t talk to anyone about my stress or my struggles. I so wanted to represent my church well, to not create division. I loved my church, and I didn’t see anything to be gained by anyone knowing how much I struggled with people, policies, and workload.

There was something good and right about my desire to not stir up anxiety and negativity within the church. But I wasn’t giving myself space to be human, a safe place to process my own sense of failure and confusion.

I thought I was doing my church a favor by keeping my struggles to myself, and in one sense I was. I was allowing others to continue to love the church without being burdened by news of what it’s really like in the bowels of the church. So far so good.

But in the process of not sharing my inner struggles with church members, in the process of not burdening my family with what I was going through, I decided to not share my struggles with anyone. Isolation city. The longer I left my soul to fend for itself, the more likely I was to let my frustration seep out at just the wrong time.

Recovery and Beyond

I have talked to enough children’s workers to know that some version of my experience is more common than we would like to admit. Too many children’s ministers are hurt, confused, isolated, and lacking perspective, feeling “done,” but seeing no way out.

At that time, the only way out I could see was to leave my position. Though I felt like a failure, like I was letting down people I dearly loved, I simply didn’t have the prevention or recovery tools I needed to find my way out of the dark corner I had painted myself into.

But I’m so grateful that my ministry story doesn’t end there. I’m so glad the end of the story is not me walking away from the church and from children’s ministry altogether. (Though there were days when I seriously contemplated both!)

Now with the benefit of years of coaching children’s ministry professionals, I have seen more than a few recover their sense of joy and calling, often without having to leave their ministries behind. So in honor of my courageous colleagues in children’s ministry who have worked the recovery process much more honestly and faithfully than I did on my first shot at ministry, I offer these practices I have seen restore health to children’s ministry workers just like us.

1. Isolation is not your friend. We all know—in our heads—that everyone needs a sounding board. When I was in emotional freefall, if you had asked me whether it was a good idea to isolate, I would have said an unequivocal no. If you had asked if I thought people needed to have coaches and counselors to stay healthy, I would have given you an absolute yes.

But when I felt like I was on the front lines, trying to put out a fire at a burning building, it never felt like the right time to take a break and talk about my feelings. But even ministry firefighters need a break and a place to express frustration, ask for encouragement, and even receive correction from someone they trust. But it’s so hard to pull away from the work when everything seems so urgent and intense.

Another tricky part is actually finding the place to get support we need. When we’re in a confused and discouraged place, we don’t have the time or energy to ask for referrals, interview counselors and coaches, or even make an appointment with a trusted friend outside of the church.

Outside of your church and your immediate family, you’d be surprised by the wide variety of support available to you. Think of it this way: we want to build an ecosystem of wise, supportive friends, coaches, counselors, and spiritual directors who can give us perspective when we are losing ours. I’m going to suggest a few possibilities for you, but these ideas are not mutually exclusive. You likely need all of them, especially when you find yourself showing those important warning signs. Tragically, I availed myself of none of these means of support when I was crumbling around the edges.

2. Boundaries is not a four-letter word. Ministry—especially children’s ministry—does not lend itself to a 9-to-5 lifestyle. Ministry happens when a child is sick and has been sent to the emergency room, when a volunteer cancels at 11 p.m. on a Saturday night, and when it’s the night before VBS and there is still setup work to do.

Setting clear, reasonable, and flexible boundaries may be one of the biggest challenges the average children’s minister faces. We know we’ve got to have boundaries around our time. Without boundaries, we end up sacrificing our family, our health, and our joy. But we also know there are times when our boundaries have to be interrupted. The trick is knowing when.

I like to start by putting a box around times when I won’t be available for ministry: sabbath days, family nights, date nights with my husband. During these set times each week, I don’t answer email of any kind (on my phone, computer, or iPad). Few people expect an immediate email response. A good rule of thumb is that an email response within twenty-four hours fits in the highly responsive category. If someone needs an immediate response, they can call or text you.

One of my biggest obstacles to setting boundaries is my phone. I can be on the couch enjoying a movie with my husband on a Saturday evening, and one little text could get me into work mode faster than I could say “I need to take care of this. It will just take a minute.”

Too many nights I left him to finish a movie alone while I rushed off to fix something, which never takes just a minute. Each time felt like it was “just this once,” but to him, I was always available to have our time interrupted by work. Not a good recipe for a healthy marriage or a healthy life.

Thankfully, he was generous enough to bring his hurt to my attention. I knew that I needed to change. We made the decision that there would be certain times when I turned off my phone. I can check it for emergencies just before I go to bed. I’ve discovered that there are very few ministry emergencies that can’t wait a few hours for us to address them.

This practice saved a few friendships too. I would be out with friends, get a text or call about work, and leave my friends and tend to the call, which always took much longer than expected. While I felt so noble for sacrificing my time with my friends for ministry, they were annoyed, more convinced than ever that my life was out of control.

When it’s my kids, when it’s my husband, I answer. When it’s a ministry call that comes during a time out, I let it go to voicemail.

The boundaries battle is won when we name the times each week when we will not be working. Although there will be times when we need to adjust, with a clear plan for off time, those times become the exception, not the rule. In

3. Take your medicine. Proverbs 17:22 says, “A cheerful heart is good medicine.” And modern research has proved it’s actually true.

A study at Indiana State University found that laughter not only reduces stress but improves the survival rates for people with cancer. And University of Maryland researchers found a link between laughter and cardiovascular health. Laughter can give a miniworkout, getting our shoulders moving and contracting our abdominal muscles. It can help us breathe more deeply, stretching our lungs, reinvigorating our entire body.

When Jesus says that we must come like children (Mark 10:13-16), I wonder if he had laughter in mind. More seriousness and heaviness seldom brings the answer we’re looking for. But when we bring buoyancy and joy, we are much more likely to come up with creative solutions to whatever has gotten us tied up in knots.

Watch or read something that makes you laugh, belly laugh. Make time for friends who have the same effect on you. As crazy as it sounds, this too can be a part of your intentional soul-tending regime. Have you taken your medicine today? I’m serious.

4. There is life out there. Every now and then kids will roll their eyes and say to one of their parents, “Mom [or Dad], get a life!” And when they do, we ought to listen.

When our lives become consumed with and defined by the obligations of family and ministry, we shrink. We become less interesting, less attractive, living in a shell and not experiencing the abundant life we claim to know.

For a long time I felt guilty for wanting to “get a life” outside of work and family. I would say, with just a smidge of pride, “I don’t have time for anything else in my life.” Really? No time for music or exercise or friends or hobbies or reading or movies or dance or . . . ?

When I decided to learn to play tennis, I discovered that I actually was able to make time, and that time actually expanded my world and my friendships. “Having a life” almost always makes us the kind of people who get more, not less, done. The mental break and the distance from the urgent and immediate has a way of energizing us for the work side of our lives.

5. Come on in: the (living) water’s fine. We all got into children’s ministry because we love Jesus and kids. But our schedules can suck the life out of our life in Christ. Instead of abiding, we find ourselves skimming. Instead of drinking deeply, we take a sip on the run.

Too many of us treat our busyness as our badge of honor. People say, “You sacrifice so much for your ministry, busy all the time taking care of all these children!” But Eugene Peterson challenges all of us in ministry: “The word busy is the symptom not of commitment but of betrayal. It is not devotion but defection. Busy set as a modifier to pastor should sound to our ears like adulterous to characterize a wife or embezzling to characterize a banker.”

Let’s get real here. Abiding in Christ doesn’t come naturally to most of us. It is much easier to be pulled along by the rushing current of today’s task list (which will, by the way, almost never get done).

Making intentional space for God begins when we fight for and begin to live into the “unforced rhythms of grace” (Matthew 11:29 The Message). I love the word rhythm. Everyone’s rhythm will be a little different; we create our own intentional pattern that, at different times and in different ways, combines listening, Scripture, prayer, meditation, silence, singing, and journaling to amplify our confidence that this is first and foremost God’s work.

Prevention and Recovery

Regardless of how long we’ve been in ministry, our daily choices can create chronic fatigue of the soul. If we are not choosing preventative disciplines to prevent burnout, emptiness, and injury, we will eventually need to make time—usually much more time—for a season of recovery.

I recently completed my second half marathon. The way I approached my second experience was vastly different from the first one. When I signed up for my first half marathon, I researched training plans, read articles on nutrition, and religiously followed the calendar of suggested runs. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be ready on race day. Nevertheless, I had a great run, and it didn’t take much to convince me to sign up for another.

But what happened to my body in the days following the race was anything but glorious. At first, my muscles were sore, which was to be expected. As the next few days passed, my back and my feet hurt to the point that I could hardly walk.

I didn’t know what was happening. I made it through the race just fine. I was happy with my time. I thought the hard part was over.

I spent the next several weeks limping to and from chiropractic visits and back to the couch. I was in lots of pain, and pretty much worthless for a few weeks. I was still a little puzzled and confused.

I had followed the training plan explicitly, yet it seemed everything was falling apart. I went from running thirteen miles to barely getting across the living room.

I eventually learned I just thought I was following the training plan. The one piece I left out—I figured it was not really essential to the plan—was stretching. I hadn’t stretched properly through my entire training plan. After most of my long runs, I was off to take care of the next thing on my list. Little did I know I was going to suffer so much. Just taking a few extra minutes after each run would have put me back in my running shoes so much sooner.

My second half marathon was different. I trained, but not as methodically as the first time. But I did invest in some preventative care, both equipment to help me stretch better and therapeutic massage to get the lactic acid out of my muscles. I wasn’t willing to risk being down like that again. I ran that second half marathon with less hard training and more focus more on preventative measures.

What happened? I ran the second race faster than the first, and with almost no recovery time. I didn’t miss a single day with my running shoes!

Ministry is not unlike running a marathon! We don’t have to run on empty. Self-care is not selfish. In fact, it will likely have a more profound affect on your ministry than any ministry technique you will ever try.

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