Facing Yourself and Discovering You Don’t Like What You See

Recently I read a post from Donald Miller that resonated with me.  In particular, it put words to what happened to me in July 2011.  In this post (What Happens When You Stop Running), he spoke of his attempt to keep up the facade that all was okay by continuing to push and run and be productive.  It took a friend to call him on it and challenge him to stop running and face himself.

Last July, we returned from a three week vacation.  That’s right…three whole weeks.  We spent time with my in-laws at their lake home in northern Wisconsin.  The weather was great, the activities were fun, and the schedule was relaxing.  I should have returned home rested and ready to conquer the next season of leadership.  Instead, I came home empty.

This summer getaway has been a tradition for the last several years of our lives and each year when I return from this mini-sabbatical I am geared up for leadership and recharged to conquer the next frontier of ministry.  I expected a similar experience this past year, but it was not to be.  I was tired.  Not tired like I just needed a good night of sleep, but utterly exhausted in every way.  For the first time in my life I was completely disengaged.  I did not want to get out bed, did not want to be around people, did not want to spend time with God, did want to go to work.  I did not want to do anything.

The three weeks of vacation did not offer me the renewal I had hoped for, but it did fulfill an important role in my journey.  It helped me to stop running and face myself.  It caused me to slow down enough to consider who I was and what I had become.  It gave me space to reflect on the meaning and purpose of my life.  I had stopped running.  I faced myself.  And I did not like what I saw.

The Backstory

The year prior to my July meltdown had been a crazy season.  In May of 2010 I was pastoring a church and making strategic plans for the next phase of development there when I received an out-of-the-blue offer to take a new role at the district level in my denomination.  This new opportunity was a great opportunity to more closely align my role with my life purpose while at the same time expanding my platform for influence.  It was not an easy decision though.  I loved the church and the people I was leading…I still do.  I did not want to leave them.  Yet, God had opened the door for me to move on and confirmed in my own heart that I should.  So, with excitement, anticipation, and a great deal of pain, I said “yes” to this new role.

Two weeks after saying “yes” I started my new role.  One month after starting the new position our family moved from Frankford, DE to Annapolis, MD.  Moving is stressful.  Moving a family of five, two weeks before school starts is even more stressful.  But we did it and lived to tell the tale.  The week after we moved, my next seminary course started.  Did I mention that it was a crazy year?

So for the next 9 months I, along with my family, went through the ups and downs of transitioning to a new community, new school system, and new ministry role.  We were busy as a family.  I was busy as a ministry leader.  Too busy to face myself.

Crumbling from the Inside Out

The transition, along with an insane level of busyness and the stress of a steep learning curve associated with my new role, sapped my energy and changed my approach to life.  One by one, key disciplines and rituals fell away.  First, I reduced my sleep to unhealthy levels.  I was, as they say, burning the candle at both ends.  I was getting up (or at least trying to get up) at five in the morning and retiring to bed at eleven or twelve each night.  Five hours sleep works for a little while, but it is not a long-term strategy for a rested body and healthy life.  My limited sleep was being offset by my “weekend crash.”  I would sleep late on Saturdays and take long naps during the afternoons on the weekend.  This took me away from time with my wife and kids on the days when they were home.

Over time, I decided that I would sleep a little longer.  Until six or six-thirty each day.  To manage this adjustment, I gave up working out.  This was the second ritual to fall away.  I was getting slightly more sleep (six hours a night) but my overall energy continued to decline as my physical health decreased.

The third ritual to fall away was my personal time with God.  I had for twelve years been a pastor with a solid routine for time with God.  My schedule was flexible and I had cultivated the practice of setting aside a chunk of time every morning to be with God.  In my new role, my list of things to do had grown exponentially overnight and much of my work was done at my desk.  My schedule was more demanding and my workflow had changed.  I underestimated this aspect of my transition.  In order to stay on top of the tasks on my to-do lists, I simply started going to work earlier and staying later.  I was focused on getting things done.  Unfortunately, one of the things that wasn’t getting done was my investment in growing my relationship with God.  Time in the Word became limited to seminary assignments and prayer was non-existent.

As these three disciplines began to fall away, the pressure began to build.  I wanted to carry my responsibilities faithfully.  I wanted to be effective and fruitful.  I wanted to do a good job.  Yet, I was neglecting the internal aspects of who I was.  Like a house that puts up the appearance that all is well while the termites are eating away the structure that supports it, my life looked good from the outside while my insides were being hollowed out.  When I returned from vacation in July, I realized that I was empty inside and that my life was crumbling in on itself because there was no longer any structure to support it.  I was crumbling from the inside out.

The Wake-Up Call

A week or so after we returned from vacation, I had a very restless night.  The weight of my crumbling life was pressing on me and I could not sleep.  I was afraid, broken, hurting, and hopeless.  In those early moments of that morning, I uttered desperate words to my wife: “I cannot go on like this anymore.”  For the next couple of hours we sat out in our screened-in porch discussing the reality of my situation.  I was tired, lonely, passionless, spiritually dry, and searching for purpose and meaning.  Was this a mid-life crisis?  A nervous breakdown?  Was I losing my mind?  Visions of straight-jackets and padded rooms crossed my mind more than once.

I shared with my beautiful bride that night that I needed help.  That I could not find a way out on my own.  Her response?  ”I cannot help you through this.”  She wasn’t saying that she wouldn’t be there for me.  She was only responding honestly that this was beyond her capacity to help me.  She was forthrightly encouraging me to pursue help from trained and skilled professionals.  Her honesty served as a crystal clear wake-up call for me.  This was serious and demanded high-priority attention.

The Recovery Journey Begins

The next morning I emailed a friend of mine who works at Life Counseling Center and asked her for a referral to a counselor.  She responded back quickly with a couple of names and a recommendation.  I made the call to the counseling center and set an appointment for the following week.  Next up, I sent an email to a mentor of mine, Umfindisi Jim Lo, asking him to serve as my spiritual director through this process.  After securing a counselor and a spiritual director, I contacted a couple of friends and asked them to pray for me specifically regarding this situation I was experiencing.  I then informed my boss of what I was going through and the steps I was taking to seek recovery.  He offered his full support, earnest prayers, and an always open door.  Finally, I committed to three simple disciplines that I would engage in throughout the process to help me find the renewal I desperately needed.  I would journal every day, read and reflect on Scripture, and spend time in listening prayer to tune into the voice of God again (I will be writing about these disciplines in an upcoming post).

These simple steps were not without challenge or setbacks.  The daily disciplines were not always practiced. The recovery was not quick, and at times did not seem possible, but the journey to recovery had begun.  It would be a full five months before I could say that renewal was in full-swing.  It would be a full-five months before I could face myself and begin again to like what I was seeing.  To be clear, there is still much that I see that I do not like.  Recovery is not complete and there is still work to be done, but the recovery journey has begun and is progressing.

Upcoming Posts

I have just begun processing all that has occurred in my life since July of 2011.  I am going to be writing a series of posts related to my experience.  Here are a few posts that are on my writing docket:

• The Factors that Drove Me to the Edge
• Recovering from Ministry Burnout
• The Core Lesson of My Experience: Surrender

I’d Like to Hear From You

What has been your experience with stopping to face yourself?  What have you learned about seeking renewal?  What disciplines aid you in staying charged up, ready to serve and lead?

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