No One Can Fix This for You
At a high-point of “success” in ministry, I went through a period of intense stress. I wanted to be anywhere but where I was. But what felt like dying was, in fact, a process of enlightenment.
Did you ever play “hot lava” when you were a kid? Remember throwing out the couch cushions. They represented the “safe place.” The rest of the floor was “hot lava.” The idea was to make it harder and harder to jump to a safe spot until you had to take a major risk to make the last leap onto the couch. The most important rule: No going back.
A few years ago, that was how I was feeling. After a series of successful leaps, navigating forward while leading a growing congregation, I reached a place where I didn’t know what to do next. What had started as an incredibly fun, rewarding experience, now felt like being poised on a tiny outcrop of rock, trying to decide where to go next. And there was no “couch” to catch my next leap.
It was mostly the normal stuff of life and ministry. But, to be honest, I had never foreseen arriving at a moment like this. I had believed that leadership integrity and a demonstrable track record of prudent decision making would somehow smooth the path. Rather than feeling closer, more trusted and, at some level, appreciated for the sacrifices made over the years, it felt like some people were not only rooting for the lava, but actually throwing stones in the hopes I might slip.
It was uncomfortable. It was painful. I wanted out.
The list of people I felt safe around had grown shorter. The number of times I’d had the rug pulled out of my feet grew longer. The strange narratives about “what’s really going on” grew more surreal. I had been thoroughly disabused of my naive belief that leadership was easy as long as you try to be a good leader. And, of course, I was far from perfect at the job!
I can remember the desperation of that season. I tried harder. I attempted to communicate more clearly. I invested time and energy sitting down, listening, sharing and striving to gain understanding. I looked for outside advice.
And I prayed. Not enough, in retrospect. But I did pray.
And in that season, the Lord said something that challenged me. In effect, He said, “Son, the way you’re feeling has nothing to do with anyone out there. There is nothing you can do to gain the peace and security you’re looking for. This is between you and Me.”
In that moment, I realized that there was no way fully to manage my circumstances. But there was one thing I could control: Whether or not I would seek the Lord’s face. Whether I would take the time to pursue Him. Whether I would find my security in His presence or in an absence of difficult circumstances.
That changed everything.
It started by slaying any prideful assumptions I could manage other people’s attitudes. It revealed my own idols—fear of man, need for human affirmation. It uncovered my own self-delusions—that my value was validated by my performance.
Ultimately, it revealed that I had foolishly pursued peace through performance. I had stepped off the path of wisdom, seeking to chart a path that I could manage.
I realized that EVERYTHING I needed would flow out of my place in the Father’s presence. It was a place I realized I would need to pursue wholeheartedly. And so my attention shifted. My intentions were refined. I discovered a new measure of well-being that had nothing to do with circumstances.
It had everything to do with one thing: Am I abiding in the Lord?
That led me on a journey of discovery. While I’ve moved a few miles down the road since that time, I can say with confidence: Things are just starting to get fun.