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Archive for the ‘Burnout and Depression in Ministry’ Category

Did you know that being a pastor may be “the single most stressful and frustrating working profession?”

That’s the conclusion of Dr. Richard J. Krejcir from his study of 1,050 pastors at two pastor’s conferences back in 2005 and 2006.

(You can find the study, titled What is Going on with the Pastors in America? at http://www.truespirituality.org.  If you can find a more recent study, please send it to me.)

Here are some of Dr. Krejcir’s discoveries:

*90% of pastors stated they are frequently fatigued and worn out (not necessarily “burned out”) on a weekly and even daily basis.

*89% of the pastors surveyed considered leaving the ministry at one time.  57% said they would leave if they had a better place to go – including secular work.

*77% of the pastors surveyed felt they did not have a good marriage.

*71% of pastors stated they were burned out and that they battle depression beyond fatigue on a weekly and even a daily basis.

*38% of pastors said they were divorced or currently in a divorce process.

*Only 23% said they felt happy and content on a regular basis with who they are in Christ, in their church, and in their home.

Dr. Krejcir’s findings are also supported by the following research which he distilled from The Barna Group, Focus on the Family, and Fuller Seminary:

*1,500 pastors leave the ministry every month due to moral failure, spiritual burnout, or contention in their churches.

*80% of pastors feel unqualified and discouraged in their role as pastor.

*80% of seminary and Bible school graduates who enter the ministry will leave within the first five years.

*70% of pastors constantly fight depression.

*70% of pastors do not have close personal friends with whom they can confide.

*50% of pastor’s marriages will end in divorce.

*50% of pastors are so discouraged that they would leave the ministry if they could.

*Most statistics say that 60% to 80% of those who enter the ministry will not still be in it ten years later, and only a fraction will stay in it as a lifetime career.

Krejcir concludes:

“The results of the survey are that pastors face more conflict, more anger, and more expectations than ever before.  At the same time, they work long hours and have little pay, little reward, and produce their own dysfunctional families because of their absence.”

Which of these statistics most impact you … and why?

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I recently read an article about a Christian leader that broke my heart … and I can’t get it out of my mind.

This leader was a long-time executive director of a major Christian organization.  He committed suicide as police were investigating a serious charge against him.

I’ve admired the work that his organization has done for a long time.  My prayer is that this tragedy doesn’t affect the crucial work they’re doing all over the world.

While reading this article, I thought about the many Christian leaders that I’ve known or respected who were discovered to be all too human and fallible.

Professors at Christian schools.  Missionaries.  Prominent pastors.  Christian vocalists and musicians.  Parachurch leaders.  Evangelists.  Associate pastors.  Televangelists.

Some preached against divorce … and eventually went through their own divorce.

Others railed against adultery … only to be seduced themselves.

Some preached a prosperity gospel … and later lost everything.

And some have behaved in ways that we … and even they … cannot fathom.

Back in the late 1980s, when there was a rash of scandals involving Christian leaders, we were told that leaders needed to demonstrate greater accountability, and that this single step would halt most of the scandals.

Maybe so … but I have a different take on this.

I believe there is a direct correlation between doing ministry and personal pain.

The more committed you are to ministering to others, the more pain you will experience in your own life.

If you doubt me, read 2 Corinthians.   In 1 Corinthians, Paul tries to address various issues at Corinth and restrains himself when it comes to expressing his own emotions.

But in 2 Corinthians, Paul lets it all hang out, and at times it’s difficult to read.  Just a few examples:

1:8: “We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life.”

2:4: “For I wrote you out of great distress and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to grieve you but to let you know the depth of my love for you.”

4:8-9: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

7:5: “For when we came to Macedonia, this body of ours had no rest, but we were harassed at every turn – conflicts on the outside, fears within.”

11:23-25: “I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again.  Five times I received frm the Jews the forty lashes minus one.  Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea.”

And then there’s this one:

11:28-29: “Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.  Who is weak, and I do not feel weak?  Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn?”

Notice that?  Besides all the physical pain that Paul endured for Christ, he also felt emotional and spiritual pain because he cared so much for others.

When I entered church ministry, I was told in general terms that I would suffer.  I plowed ahead anyway.

What I wasn’t told … and most of us aren’t … is that there are times when the pain becomes so great that it becomes unbearable.  After a while, the hurts of others gets to you, and you don’t know what to do with all that pain.

Some Christian leaders secretly turn to alcohol and drugs … some to illicit sex … some to overspending … and some become depressed.

When you’re expected to be “on fire” for the Lord all the time … and experiencing victory after victory … it’s hard to admit to anyone … much less yourself … that you’re hurting.

You’d like to lean on your wife, but she has her own pain to deal with, and she’s already tired of hearing about yours.

You’d like to talk with a counselor, but you don’t know who to trust, and you suspect that counseling will uncover more of your own buried pain.

You’d like to tell your board, but you’re afraid they’ll condemn you or fire you, so you stay silent.

You want to tell somebody about your pain, but you can’t find anyone who’s safe enough to trust.

And so you stuff it … and the pain starts turning into anxiety, anger, and depression.

And when you finally do something stupid … or take your own life … people wonder why you didn’t reach out for help.

Maybe you should have reached out … or maybe you just didn’t know where to go for help.

I’ve visited a lot of churches over the past 4 1/2 years … probably 50-60.

And in the course of listening to many preachers, I’ve come to this conclusion: I wouldn’t dare share a personal problem with most of them.  Know why?

Because they don’t dare share their humanity with us.

When I hear a pastor tell a story on himself … or admit that he struggles with certain issues … or needs the gospel just as much as I do, I’m drawn to him.  I feel safe with him.

But when I don’t hear any humanity coming from the pulpit … when the pastor says “you” and not “we” … when he yells and condemns and intimates, “I have it all together” – I don’t feel safe … and I’m sure I’m not alone.

The ethos of much of the Christian world seems to be, “Even though you aren’t perfect, you better act like you are, so you can keep your job and your reputation.”

But Christian leaders aren’t perfect.  Every one is messed up in some way.  They all have their issues, wounds, and struggles … just like you do … and just like Paul did.

One of America’s greatest pastors has always been transparent about what God is doing in his life.  I once heard him tell a group of pastors that he was in therapy for some “junk from his past” and that he and his wife were in marriage counseling for some issues they were struggling with.

When asked how he could be so open about his life, this pastor said, “It takes too much energy to hide who you are.”

Those revelations might deflate many Christians, but they were liberating for me.  My attitude was, “If God can use him with all his problems, then God can use me as well.”

And I operated by this corollary: if that pastor can share his issues in appropriate ways to appropriate groups, then maybe I can do the same thing.

Which is the more inspiring statement?

“Christians have no right to be depressed, and I have never been depressed because I know Jesus.”

Or …

“I have been depressed in my life, but by God’s grace … and with the help of other Christians … He has brought me through depression and made me stronger.”

Personally, I resonate with the second statement because it’s true of me.  28 years ago, I was severely depressed to the point I wasn’t operating normally.

My wife found a qualified Christian counselor and I saw him for four months.  After our time together, I never became that low again … and I’ve been through some pretty horrendous times in life and in ministry.

Because I want the painful times in my life to be redemptive, I’ve openly shared my long-ago struggle with depression both while preaching and in writing.  (Did you know that 48 of the Psalms … roughly 1/3 … deal with depression?  Maybe God is a lot more open about it than we are.)

But I do know this: we’re all weak and vulnerable at times.  Because of the pain in our lives, we’re all tempted to do stupid stuff.

And all of us – including Christian leaders – need safe people we can talk with and safe places we can go if we’re to experience healing and continue in ministry.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul quoted Jesus as saying that His “power is made perfect in weakness.”

Not in strength … in weakness.

Act like you’re strong all the time, and you may eventually succumb to weakness.

Admit that you’re weak, and just might be on the road to becoming strong.

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When a pastor is forced to leave a church unjustly, how does he heal?

This is a question that I’m asked a lot … and one I wonder about myself.

Let me handle this in a question and answer format:

How do pastors feel after they’re forced to leave a church?

Abandoned.  Betrayed.  Crushed.  Devastated.  Exiled.  Forsaken.  Grief-stricken.  Hated.  Isolated.  Judged.  Kicked.  Lanced.

I’ll let you fill in the words beginning with M-Z.

Most pastors give everything they have when they serve a church, and when they’re dismissed … or forced to resign … the pain is indescribable.

It feels like your grandparents, parents, siblings, and children have all made a pact that they never want to see you again.

And in the process, you stop trusting people … and that’s understandable.  It takes time to rebuild that trust.

What kind of losses does a terminated pastor experience?

The pastor loses his job … his income … and maybe his home … which will harm his credit rating.

He loses his significance … his self-esteem and confidence … most of his church friends … and possibly his career.

And what hurts most of all is that some “Christians” are determined to ruin the pastor’s reputation through exaggeration and misinterpretation … and the pastor doesn’t know who these people are or what they’re saying.

But when he starts making contacts in the Christian community, he discovers that some Christian leaders have already heard one version of why the pastor left … the wrong version.

Six months after I’d left my previous church, I visited a denominational executive … from another denomination … and he already knew about my departure.

The Christian world is all too small.

How long does it take a pastor to heal?

It takes one to three years, depending upon several factors:

*How much abuse did the pastor receive before he finally left?

*How concerted was the effort to destroy his reputation after he left?

*How much of a severance package was the pastor given?

*How do the pastor and his family handle criticism?  (Can the pastor’s family hold him up, or does he need to hold them up?)

*What kind of a support system does the pastor have?

*What hope does the pastor have of future employment?

Why do pastors hibernate for a while after termination?

They can’t stop thinking about what happened to them.

They can’t believe the people who betrayed them.

They can’t fathom why they weren’t treated in a biblical manner.

They can’t understand how Christians could abuse and forsake their pastor.

After pastors initially experience termination, their thoughts … words … and expressions become toxic.

The pastor figures, “I’m such a wreck that nobody wants to be around me.”

Some people attempt to listen to and love the pastor, but when their efforts aren’t successful, they distance themselves from the pastor.

And the pastor feels rejected all over again.

Why don’t pastors heal more quickly?

Because the grief process works slowly.

This past weekend at Saddleback Church, Pastor Rick Warren gave a message called “How God Blesses Broken Hearts” from Matthew 5:4.  His message greatly ministered to me.  Here’s the link:

http://mediacenter.saddleback.com/mc/archives/

Pastor Rick says:

“Never minimize other’s pain.”

“Never rush people.  Pain and grief takes time.  I can’t tell you what’s the appropriate time to grieve for anything in your life.”

He said that since the suicide of his son Matthew over a year ago, he has cried every single day.

I believe that churchgoers want … and even need … their pastors to be superhuman.  When they discover that their pastor is as frail as they are in the face of loss, they feel let down … and often abandon the pastor altogether.

When I went through this experience 4 1/2 years ago, I believe that I lost friends because I didn’t become “the old Jim” fast enough.  It was painful for friends to see me in pain … but I’ve never been able to fake how I feel.

But I am eternally grateful to those few people who chose to be present … listened to my pain … and loved me anyway.

Those people will always be my real friends.

What steps can a pastor take to accelerate healing?

The following steps all have one thing in common: a pastor must humble himself before God and receive help from others … especially in the body of Christ.

Step 1: Get a physical examination.

See your doctor immediately.  Tell him what happened to you.  Anti-depressants can be a godsend.

Step 2: Contact a Christian counselor.

Only 20% of forced-out pastors seek counseling after they’ve been terminated.

Why only 20%?

Maybe the pastor doesn’t know the right counselor … but it only takes a few phone calls to find someone.

Maybe the pastor is afraid the counselor will blame him for his dismissal … but that’s highly unlikely.

Maybe the pastor is afraid of the cost … but how much is healing your soul worth?  (And most counselors will give a discount to a terminated pastor.)

After I left my last church, I saw two counselors … both women … and they were terrific.  They understood my situation because both women had been in ministry.  They provided valuable insights into congregational life and made positive suggestions for healing.

It’s the right move.

Step 3: Attend church when you feel like it.

Why not every weekend?

Because attending worship can be an incredibly painful experience for a pastor who has undergone termination.

I still have a hard time singing praise and worship songs 53 months later … and I don’t know what to do about it.

And when I listen to preaching, I need to hear someone who acknowledges and understands pain … which is why I’ve been listening to Rick Warren recently.

It’s why I sat under the teaching ministry of Don Wilson in Phoenix for 18 months.

And it’s why it’s difficult to find a church home near the community where I live.

Step 4: Spend lots of time in the Psalms and in 2 Corinthians.

David and the other psalmists openly express their feelings to God in unedited form.  I keep coming back to the Psalms constantly.

And when Paul wrote 2 Corinthians, he was defending his ministry to the church in Corinth, where he was being hypercriticized in an attempt to discredit him as an apostle.

Read these books in different versions.  I love reading them in The Message.

Find a good devotional book that deals with suffering in a realistic way as well.  I recommend Beside Still Waters by Charles Spurgeon.

Step 5: If you’re a pastor, commit your future to God.

He knows you.  He loves you.  He cares about you.

Others may have abandoned and forsaken you.  He never will.

Tell the Lord you’ll do anything He wants and you’ll go anywhere He sends.

Then follow the Spirit’s promptings.

The Spirit led me to a church in New Hampshire … for only three months … but it was just what my wife and I needed at the time.

Can God use a terminated pastor again?

The Lord used Peter in an even greater way after he denied Christ three times.

Paul was chased all over the ancient world but planted churches and wrote half the New Testament.

And Jesus was terminated on the cross … but He had a powerful post-resurrection ministry.

Yes, God can use terminated pastors again … and in an even greater way than before.

I believe the “stain” that a pastor receives after being unjustly terminated is the same stain that Jesus, Paul, Peter, and the other apostles received.

If only church search teams and denominational executives believed this.

What are your thoughts about how terminated pastors can heal?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My wife and I recently watched a television show where a soldier who had seen combat overseas was experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder back home.

The soldier kept reliving an attack upon an enemy compound, leading him to believe, for example, that a routine thunderstorm outside his house was really caused by enemy fire.

I’ve seen these kinds of shows before, but what struck me during this episode was the real source of the soldier’s pain.

After reenacting events, it came out that the soldier was torn up inside because he saw his commanding officer accidentally kill a fellow soldier … and nothing in his training had prepared him for that moment.

He couldn’t comprehend how a leader on his side could take the life of a colleague.

Only when the truth came out was the soldier finally able to start the healing process …. and sleep through the night.

In churches all across our land, pastors and their family members are suffering emotional and spiritual trauma, even to the point where some have been diagnosed with PTSD.

For example, I recently read an article about a pastor’s son in his early teens.  Because this young man couldn’t handle the attacks upon his father any more, he contemplated suicide by standing above a river … and nearly jumping in.

What causes such trauma for pastors and their family members?

It’s not criticism.  Pastors get used to that.

It’s not having people disagree with you.  Pastors automatically factor that into their ministries.

It’s not watching people leave the church.  Pastors know that they need “blessed subtractions” from time-to-time.

No, what causes trauma is when professing Christians – especially Christian leaders – relentlessly assassinate their pastor’s character, seeking to destroy him at all costs … and the congregation lets it happen.

Why is that traumatizing?

Because pastors teach their congregations to love one another … to work out their differences … to treat each other with dignity and respect … and to realize that we’re all made in God’s image.

But when the pastor is treated like he’s a criminal … or evil … or demonic … there is nothing in his theology or his experience he can draw upon to make sense of things.

Pastors cannot fathom how Christians – including church leaders – can act like non-Christians inside God’s holy church.

When I wrote my book Church Coup, I removed the following quotations because of space, but I thought I’d share them with you now:

__________

Dr. Shelley Rambo is professor of theology at Boston University.  In her recent book, Spirit and Trauma: A Theology of Remaining, Dr. Rambo challenges Christian leaders to think about trauma survivors in a theological way.  Citing Dr. Rambo’s work, columnist Anthony Bradley explains:

A traumatic event is not like a death of a loved one or being rejected by a friend.  Instead, it involves activities that were life-threatening, either physically or in one’s perception, creating a sense of unrecognizable fear, utter helplessness, or horror.  Rambo points out that trauma is a wound that ‘remains long after a precipitating event or events are over,’ and it ‘exceeds categories of comprehension’ related to an event.  Trauma is an encounter with death that exceeds the human capacity to take in and process the external world.  In fact, because of trauma, what one knows about the world is shattered.  What is true and safe are ruptured . . . . Life is not the same anymore.  The trauma interprets life for the sufferer.[1]

__________

Did you catch that?  “What one knows about the world is shattered … the trauma interprets life for the sufferer.”

I know pastors who were forced out of their churches who experience similar trauma nearly every day.  They ask me, “When will my suffering end?  When will I be whole enough to serve God again?”

__________

Bradley continues:

Surviving post-trauma is a life of navigating one’s way through a minefield of triggers that remind the sufferer of the traumatic event or events.  Triggers can lead to random bouts of sobbing, irregular and disturbed sleep patterns, outbursts of anger, depression, anxiety, loss of hope, loss of interest in things once loved, thoughts of suicide, self-medicating with drugs or alcohol, as well as running away from thoughts, conversations, people, places that might arouse traumatic memory.  Because trauma survivors re-experience the event in ways outside of one’s control, healing is not a matter of believing the right things about God.  Or getting the gospel right.  Time does not heal traumatic wounds.  Traumatic memory is something only God can heal.  The Holy Spirit must empower trauma sufferers to re-imagine their future . . . . Those limping around in life after experiencing trauma need people who love them enough to realize that they may never ‘get over it’ and that their on-going struggle does not represent weak faith.[2]

__________

In our case, my wife was diagnosed with PTSD by a counselor.  My wife and I are familiar with the triggers:

*Christmas and Easter

*visiting a worship center laid out like our former church

*seeing a random comment on Facebook by a one-time opponent

*running across a photo showing the faces of people who betrayed you

*trying to explain for the umpteenth time why you are no longer in church ministry

*reading our situation into a TV show or movie plot

*noticing what David wrote about his enemies in the Psalms

Several months ago, I gave a copy of my book to a family, who passed it on to a family member who had once been a pastor, but was forced out of his church.

His response after reading the book?  “I am glad to learn that I am not alone.”

It’s one of the most common responses I receive from pastors.

People sometimes ask me, “Are you healed now?”

My answer is always the same: I feel much better, but I will probably never fully get over what happened 52 months ago … and I know I am not alone.

Why not?

Because there is nothing so traumatic as knowing that fellow Christians are intentionally shooting to harm you.

May God forgive each one.

[1] Anthony Bradley, “When Trauma Doesn’t Heal,” World Magazine Online, 4 May 2011; available from http://onlineworldmag.com; Internet.

[2] Ibid.

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Today marks another milestone for this blog: my 300th article.  By the end of the day, I should reach 50,000 total views as well.

If this is your first visit, or we’re old friends, thanks for reading.  And rest assured: there are enough topics floating through my brain for at least 300 more articles!

As I sometimes do, I thought I’d share my views today in the form of a story …

____________________

Pastor Ryan was frustrated.  The church he led – Redeemer Community Church – was not going well, at least in his mind.  Attendance was down 5% for the year … giving was down 7% … and several key families had recently left the church.

For the past 4 years, Redeemer Community had grown steadily under Pastor Ryan’s leadership.  But the church seemed to have hit a wall, and Ryan wanted to knock that wall down.

Ryan was especially impatient with the elders, the church’s governing board … and at the last board meeting, he let them know how he felt in no uncertain terms.  Ryan was a bit surprised by how angry he became, and he was sure that the board members were equally surprised by his sudden outburst.  Ordinarily, Ryan would have contacted each of them and apologized, but for some reason, he put the idea out of his head.

Fortunately, Jack, the chairman of the elders, was a mature believer both spiritually and emotionally.  While Jack did debrief with several board members after the meeting, he didn’t overreact to Ryan’s outburst.  Jack figured that Ryan acted out of character because something else was bothering him.  Rather than reprimand him publicly at the next meeting, Jack decided to take a different approach.

So Jack invited Ryan out to breakfast.  After they engaged in small talk, Jack said to Ryan, “I was concerned about the emotions you expressed at our last board meeting.  You didn’t seem like yourself.  I want you to know that I love and respect you as both my pastor and my friend.  So I’d like to ask you … is everything all right?”

Ryan appreciated the invitation to share.  He was embarrassed about the way he had expressed himself at the board meeting.  So the first thing he did was apologize for his outburst.

Jack let Ryan know that he forgave him and that he wouldn’t bring up the matter again.  Ryan then asked Jack, “What would be the best way for me to apologize to the other board members?”

Jack suggested that Ryan bring up the matter right before the board prayed at the next meeting.  Jack assured Ryan that the others valued him as pastor and were more concerned for his welfare than that Ryan had somehow offended them.

Ryan felt relieved.  He had been worrying that the board might severely reprimand him for his outburst … or even discuss firing him.  But Jack’s attitude made him feel like a new man.

Jack told his pastor, “You have done so much good since you’ve been here.  The church has grown.  People have come to Christ.  I’ve seen spiritual breakthroughs in people’s lives, and you’re largely responsible for that.  I believe your best days in this church are ahead of you.”  Ryan felt a surge of energy flow through his spirit.  How he longed to hear someone … anyone … affirm his ministry.

Jack continued, “But Ryan, I need to tell you that several elders were a bit shaken by your outburst the other night.  We don’t want to work for you, and we don’t want you to work for us.  I want us to work together.  The way you acted made me wonder if you want us to work for you.  Am I seeing things right?”

Ryan said, “No, Jack, I don’t want the board to work for me.  I sincerely want to work with the elders.  Because I meet with the elders only monthly, sometimes I forget my place.”

Jack responded, “It’s good to hear you say that.  We’re not here to hamstring you.  We’re here to work alongside you … to be your cheerleaders and protectors … and to help you get things done at our church.”

Ryan said, “Thanks, Jack … that means a lot to me.”

And then Jack asked a question that Ryan had been hoping somebody would ask him: “How are you doing … really?”

Ryan started to cry and asked, “Do you know how long it’s been since someone asked me that?”  Ryan felt that people only valued him as a pastor.  He longed for someone to value him as a person.

Ryan began, “The downturn in attendance and giving has created some fear in me.  I’m afraid that the board or a group in the church is going to blame me for those numbers and that I’m going to be fired.  I really don’t know if my fears are rational or irrational.  Can you help me out?”

Jack assured Ryan, “I don’t judge a pastor’s ministry solely by numbers.  While we’d all like to see attendance and giving steadily increasing, I’ve been around long enough to know that every church has seasons where things aren’t quite jelling.  Personally, I don’t think our music is really reaching the majority of our congregation and that we may need a new worship director.  I also think that you need to finish your study in 2 Chronicles on Sundays because while that book might interest you, most people mentally checked out long ago.  And I think our small group ministry needs some tweaking.  But those are all solvable problems.  If you’re willing to discuss them at the next meeting, I can assure you the rest of the board will be receptive.”

Ryan couldn’t believe how supportive Jack was.  He then asked Jack, “Would it be all right if I told you something else?”

Jack countered, “Of course, Ryan.  Your personal well-being directly impacts the well-being of our church family.”

Ryan searched for the right words and said, “I’m struggling with exhaustion right now.  I don’t want to hear people’s problems.  In fact, sometimes I don’t want to be around people at all.  I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but I’ve been afraid that if I tell the board, no one will understand and I’ll be subject to removal.”  Ryan nervously waited for Jack’s response.

Jack wasn’t fazed.  He said, “Ryan, I can tell that you’re not yourself.  I think you need to take some time off.  I don’t know what’s wrong with you or how much time you’ll need, but let me offer several thoughts.”  Ryan listened attentively.

Jack said, “First, I think you need to see a Christian counselor, at least for several sessions.  Whatever your insurance doesn’t pay, the church will pick up.  After all, if the way you’re feeling is church-related, then it may be an occupational hazard.  We want to invest in your long-term mental and emotional health.  Then once we have a diagnosis from the counselor, we’ll know how to proceed.  If you’re suffering from stress, maybe you just need two or three weeks away.  If you’re suffering from burnout, the recuperation period may be longer, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.  But I do know this: only a healthy pastor can lead a healthy church.”

Ryan couldn’t believe his ears.  He had been living under the impression that if he ever shared how he really felt with the “board chairman” … or any board member … that they would take steps to dismiss him.  But Jack seemed to understand that Ryan was a human being … a fallible human being …  and that knowledge began to heal Ryan on the inside.

Pastor Ryan apologized to the elders at the next meeting.  They instantly forgave him and even hugged him, being quite aware of their own weaknesses.  When Ryan became frustrated at one point in the meeting, he calmed his spirit, stated honestly but kindly how he felt, and the board understood and heard his view.

Ryan visited a Christian counselor, who told Ryan that he was in the beginning stages of burnout.  The counselor recommended that Ryan take 4-6 weeks off and work on some issues in his life.  Jack and the board assured Ryan of their support and that his job would be waiting for him when he returned.

Ryan returned from his time away with a renewed desire to serve a church that reflected the gospel in the way they treated their pastor.  Yes, Ryan was human.  No, he could never be perfect.  But the gospel message isn’t for non-humans or infallible people.  It’s for those who admit that they need God’s grace.  And having once received it, they’re eager to pass that grace onto others.  Too often, pastors preach grace but experience law from their church and its leaders.  But when pastors receive grace, they extend grace … and when they extend grace, they receive even more grace.

Having experienced God’s grace from his own church family, Pastor Ryan slowly began to feel more energized.  He led better … preached better … and made better decisions.  The church came out of their temporary slump and continued to grow in numbers … and in grace.

All because the church board dealt with their pastor graciously rather than harshly.

May their tribe increase!

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When I was in seminary, my pastor told me, “I feel sorry for people in your generation who become pastors.  You’re going to have to face a lot of issues that many of us pastors never had to face.”

After 36 years in church ministry, I’m pretty sure that I’ll never pastor again.  Even though I have the requisite training, experience, skills, and knowledge, I don’t know if my emotions could handle the rigors of pastoring anymore.

Why is pastoring so rough?

First, pastors always have to be “on.”

A pastor has to be careful with every email he writes … every phone call he makes … every joke he tells … and every conversation he has.  If he lets his guard down for one minute, he may say or do something stupid … and some people will use that against him in the future.

While Christians are fond of saying that we’re “not perfect, just forgiven,” most people expect their pastor to be perfect … and pastors instinctively absorb that expectation.

I recently had a conversation with a pastor who had once been verbally attacked.  He shared some of the complaints against him.  You would not believe how petty they were.  Nobody could stand that kind of scrutiny.

Pastors don’t just have to be “on” when they’re in the pulpit.  They have to be “on” when they’re in the men’s room at church … when they’re driving out of the church parking lot … when they’re answering the phone at home on a Saturday night … and when they’re attending a social event anywhere.

In fact, pastors get so used to being “on” that at times, it’s difficult for them to hit the “off” switch and just relax … and without knowing it, they can easily burn out.

I once heard Chuck Swindoll tell a roomful of pastors that churches that require their pastors to be out too many nights eventually lose them.  And yet, when I was a pastor, evenings were the only time when I could meet with a small group … meet with the programming/worship team … attend board meetings … attend men’s ministry meetings … and on and on.  While I wasn’t driven, I felt like I was shirking my responsibilities if I wasn’t working at least three nights a week.

What’s the solution?  Let your pastor be a person before he’s anything else.  Realize that he has his limits … that he gets weary and tired and frustrated … and no matter how energetic he seems, he can’t always be “on.”

Of course, neither can you.

Second, pastors have few confidants.

During my first pastorate, I was asked to be a guest speaker several times in other venues, and they all went well.  Eventually, I was asked to speak for a district men’s rally … kind of a big deal.

It just so happened that our daughter Sarah decided to enter the world that morning.  I remember working on my talk while trying to assist my wife in the hospital.

When I got up to speak to those 80 men … I couldn’t speak.  I had a great talk prepared, but I had trouble delivering it.  Looking back, it was probably “stage fright.”

I bombed so badly that nobody asked me to do guest speaking for years.

When I went home that evening – my wife was in the hospital – I needed to talk to somebody about what happened to me.  I was in bad shape emotionally.

But who could I contact?

*I couldn’t be vulnerable with anyone from church because they wouldn’t have understood.

*I couldn’t speak with my wife because she was dealing with her own pain.

*I couldn’t call a Christian counselor because I didn’t know any.

*I couldn’t call most of my old friends because they wouldn’t have understood, either.

I finally called a friend who was a pastor, and he gave me lots of time … as he always has.

But this is a recurring problem for pastors.  When a pastor has a major problem, who can he confide in?

The solution?  Most pastors need a pastor … and preferably several pastors … because there are times when a pastor needs someone to listen to him … to accept him … to understand him … and to assure him that no matter how he feels today, he’ll eventually feel better.

And if the pastor makes his wife his only pastor, she may not be able to handle the strain.

Third, pastors are never done working.

There’s always one more person to call … one more parishioner in the hospital to visit … one more letter to write … and one more sermon to review.

And if you’re a perfectionist, things can take twice as long … and you feel guilty about the work you haven’t finished.

The smaller the church, the more access that churchgoers expect to have with their pastor.  Some want the pastor to be their personal buddy.

The larger the church, the longer that TO DO list gets.  Growth can become a monster.

During my last pastorate, I took Fridays off.  But invariably, I didn’t finish my message … or my outline … until almost noon that day, even though I worked on my message at home all day on Thursdays.  My wife would say, “Just finish!  You need to stop!”  But sometimes I needed another story … or to research one last thing … or I felt I could make a point a little better … and I couldn’t stop until I felt good about that message.

Some members do expect their pastor to work superhuman hours.  Every time they drive by the church, they expect to see the pastor’s car there … and if they don’t, they assume the pastor is goofing off somewhere.

Some pastors internalize the ridiculous expectations of these critics and tell themselves, “I may not be the best preacher or leader, but maybe I can prove my worth by overworking.”

I once heard Christian author/counselor Norm Wright say that anybody who works more than 60 hours a week is crazy.  By that measure, many pastors are certifiably insane.

Solution?  The church board needs to tell the pastor, “Here’s what we expect you to do … and not to do.  And if we see you exceeding your limits, we’re going to love you enough to call you on it and insist that you take care of yourself.”

Sometimes I was aching for even one board member to tell me that.

Finally, pastors are haunted by their critics.

I’m currently watching a series of DVDs presented by two experienced church consultants.

One of them told his class, “I don’t know that I’d like to pastor a church again.”  After pastoring three churches in his younger days, he went on to become a seminary professor.

The second consultant stated, “The meanest people I ever met didn’t hold a candle to people I’ve met in the church.”  He said that the attacks of church members against pastors often become personal, nasty, and mean.

It doesn’t take many critics to bother a pastor.  It only takes one.

In his biography Moon River and Me, the late singer Andy Williams recounts a conversation he once had with comedian Bill Cosby.  Cosby was performing in a venue where everyone seemed to love his act … except one guy in the front row who wouldn’t laugh at anything Cosby said.  Williams encouraged Cosby to forget about that individual, but Cosby said that he couldn’t.

I know the feeling all too well.

I’ve been criticized for growing a beard (30 years ago) … for not making my toddler son sit through church services … for wearing a suit … for not wearing a suit … for using the word “guts” in a sermon … for letting drums into the church … for letting women into leadership positions … for not being profound … for being too deep … for not preaching John 3:16 every Sunday (I’m not kidding) … for not giving altar calls (even though they’re never found in Scripture) … for not being Chuck Smith or Chuck Swindoll … for not leading forcefully enough … for leading too strongly … and on and on and on.

Give me five minutes, and I can recall ten more criticisms … because like most pastors, I remember the complaints far more than the compliments.

And although pastors learn to shrug off many criticisms, the cumulative effect begins to wear them down after a while.  They start being guarded … isolating themselves … staying away from people … and barking at those who do criticize them … even if they mean well.

Solution?  Test the criticisms with a trusted confidant.

Last winter, my wife and I flew back east and visited a church that was considering me as an interim pastor.  Much of our time went well, and we met some wonderful people there … but some people did and said things that were insensitive, and on the drive back to the airport, we decided we couldn’t do church ministry anymore.

The latest statistics are that 70% of seminary graduates are quitting ministry before their fifth-year anniversary.  It’s rare to hear anymore about a pastor who has completed 30 or 40 years of ministry.

If you’re a church leader or a church goer, pray for your pastor … and let him know that.  Encourage your pastor … verbally and in writing.  Accept your pastor … for his weaknesses and his strengths.

And remember: public ministry can be so difficult that Jesus only did it for 3 years.

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Have you ever wanted to peak inside the marriage of a well-known Christian pastor, evangelist, or missionary?

That’s the goal of William Petersen’s delightful book, 25 Surprising Marriages: How Great Christians Struggled to Make Their Marriages Work, published by Timothy Press.

In the early 1980s, Petersen published a little paperback called Martin Luther Had a Wife.  The book contained 5 stories of great Christian leaders and their marriages.  Over time, Petersen published 4 similar books (I bought all 5), now compiled into one volume.

I read a few pages of each biography during my quiet time with the Lord, and I have found Petersen’s marital portraits to be encouraging, inspiring, and occasionally disturbing.

Let me share some of the more interesting/disturbing aspects of the first five couples portrayed in the book:

*John Newton was heavily involved in the slave trade from Africa to England before he became a believer.  He was guilty of deserting a ship, having indiscriminate sex with slaves (even raping one woman), and mocking Christ and the gospel.  After he finally came to Christ, he was refused ordination by the Church of England.

Yet he was so head over heels in love with Polly that his life eventually changed.  I can’t imagine anybody in our day waiting as long as John waited for Polly.  As I was reading about their romance, I thought to myself, “This is a far better story than most Chick Flicks in our day.”  He went on to become a small-town pastor, a prominent Christian leader, and the co-author of “Amazing Grace” as well as writing an autobiography, Out of the Depths.

*Dwight Moody was turned down for church membership the first time he applied.  Once an ambitious shoe salesman, he was outspoken, dominant, and impulsive, while his wife Emma was more reserved and yet far better educated.  Some people called him “Crazy Moody.”

Moody became an evangelist, traveled a million miles, preached to 100 million people, and saw 750,000 come to Christ.  He also founded the YMCA and the Moody Bible Institute.  And yet when people were disloyal to her husband, Emma acted like they had committed an unpardonable sin.

*Charles Spurgeon – one of my few Christian heroes – loved to smoke cigars … got gout when he was only 35 years old … and died at a relatively young age.  Saved at 16, he became the pastor of Park Street Chapel in London at 19.  His wife Susie was 3 years older than her husband and frequently corrected his mistakes in language or history.  When Spurgeon went on a preaching tour, they hated to be separated.

Although he lacked polish and refinement (qualities especially important in London at the time), Spurgeon went on to found a college and an orphanage, edit a magazine, write 140 books, and become one of the greatest preachers in history.  His book Lectures to My Students is one of my prized possessions, especially his chapters on depression and handling criticism.

In Spurgeon’s day, the sermons of prominent pastors were reviewed in the newspaper, and Spurgeon’s messages were often dissected in a negative fashion, which greatly wounded him.  He suffered from depression throughout his life, yet maintained a joyful sense of humor.  During one hot spell in London, when Spurgeon’s deacons refused to do anything about cooling down the worship center, Spurgeon took his cane and knocked out every window in the place.  While I wish we had audio or video of Spurgeon’s preaching (that will have to wait for heaven), thank God that his sermons are still in print.  If you’ve never read Spurgeon, you can download some of his books for free for the Kindle.  A master of the English language, there has never been anybody quite like him.

*William Booth was moody and prone to depression.  When he asked that his membership with the Methodist Church be renewed, Booth was turned down.  Unable to find a denomination where they felt at home, Booth and his wife Catherine eventually founded The Salvation Army, probably becoming the greatest husband-wife team in Christian history.

Throughout his lifetime, it was generally conceded that Booth’s wife Catherine was a better preacher than he was.  She also wrote many of her husband’s messages.  (He would request a topic, and she would do the research and writing.)  But sadly, after Catherine died, 6 of their 8 children defected from The Salvation Army.

*Billy Sunday – a famous baseball player in his day (Ty Cobb eventually broke his record for stolen bases) – was a leading evangelist in the late 1800s and early 1900s.  He and his wife Nell served the Lord faithfully for decades.  He consulted with his wife on everything he did.  When the Sundays would enter a town, their goal … get this … was to convert 20% of the people to Christ!  Crowds would line up for 8-10 hours to hear him preach.  It is estimated that 100 million people came to Christ during his ministry.  Sadly, 4 of their children died horrible deaths … their oldest son by suicide.

What have I learned by reading about these marriages?

*It’s much easier to get married in our day.  John Newton had to convince Polly’s parents that he’d be an acceptable partner for their daughter … and the process took years.  Newton asked Polly to marry him 3 times … and she only accepted his third request.  Because they could only write each other letters (no texting or emails back then!), couples sometimes lost contact with each other for months.

*These men depended upon their wives and believed that their counsel was the voice of God to them.  After Polly’s death, John Newton wrote, “She was my pleasing companion, my most affectionate friend, my judicious counselor.  I seldom, if ever, repented of acting according to her advice.  And I seldom acted against it without being convinced by the event that I was wrong.”

*Christian leaders are human beings before they’re anything else.  They are not promised exemptions from mood swings … physical ailments … wayward children … and financial difficulties.  We sometimes think, “If only I was as spiritual as __________, then God would bless my life.”  But even those who appear spiritual in public struggle with their emotions and relationships behind the scenes.

On occasion, I’ll write more about the marriages of famous Christian figures, like C.S and Joy Lewis … Martin and Katie Luther … and Hudson and Maria Taylor.  They both fascinate and encourage me!

 

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I’m slowly reading through the Psalms in Eugene Peterson’s biblical paraphrase The Message, and I’ve been increasingly blessed by what I’ve been reading.

This morning, I read Psalm 77, where Asaph speaks in the first 6 verses:

I yell out to my God, I yell with all my might,

I yell at the top of my lungs.  He listens.

I found myself in trouble and went looking for my Lord;

my life was an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

When friends said, “Everything will turn out all right,”

I didn’t believe a word they said.

I remember God – and shake my head.

I bow my head – then wring my hands.

I’m awake all night – not a wink of sleep;

I can’t even say what’s bothering me.

I go over the days one by one,

I ponder the years gone by.

I strum my lute all through the night,

wondering how to get my life together.

Do these words from Asaph resonate with you?

Asaph is comfortable enough in God’s presence to “yell at the top of my lungs.”  The psalmist doesn’t contort himself into adopting a sanctimonious tone.  He just tells God how he feels … and in this case, loudly.

He also states that “my life was an open wound that wouldn’t heal.”

I don’t know what Asaph was going through, but it was like an arrow pierced his heart.  He bled out a bit … but his wound refused to get better.

I know so many Christians – even people I admire – who have wounds that won’t heal: tortured memories … incessant regrets … bodily frailties … psychological plagues … emotional scars.

In Asaph’s case, his wound wasn’t private – it was public.  Everyone who knew Asaph knew about his wound.

When Asaph’s well-meaning friends tried to encourage him, Asaph couldn’t adopt their viewpoint.  Only he knew his pain.

And when he thought of God, Asaph could only shake his head and wring his hands.

Even though Asaph had petitioned God for relief, the Lord remained silent and inactive.

One of the worst nights of my life happened when I was a sophomore in high school.  My insect collection was due the following day, but I didn’t have it done.  I stayed up all night wondering what I was going to do.

I hated biology.

In my case, I knew why I was up all night.  In Asaph’s case, he couldn’t even say what was troubling him.

He reviewed his life – looking for clues as to why he was so miserable – but he received no answers.

So he turned to music.  In his case, he played the lute.

In my case, I play my iPod … sometimes listening to hymns all night.

But I love the last line of this text, where Asaph admits that he’s “wondering how to get my life together.”

Let me make three quick observations about this text:

First, God loves it when His people are honest.

If God didn’t like honesty, He would have made sure that Asaph’s little song was never published in Scripture.

But Asaph isn’t the only honest psalmist.  What about King David in Psalm 31?

Be kind to me, God –

I’m in deep, deep trouble again.

I’ve cried my eyes out;

I feel hollow inside.

My life leaks away, groan by groan;

my years fade out in sighs.

My troubles have worn me out,

turned my bones to powder.

To my enemies I’m a monster,

I’m ridiculed by the neighbors.

My friends are horrified;

they cross the street to avoid me.

They want to blot me from memory,

forget me like a corpse in the grave,

discard me like a broken dish in the trash.

The street-talk gossip has me

“criminally insane”!

Behind locked doors they plot

how to ruin me for good.

There’s no attempt on David’s part to be super-spiritual, or self-righteous … he just tells God, “I’m hollow, worn out, forsaken, ridiculed – and some people want to destroy me.”

How do these two prayers – and there are scores of sections like these in the Psalms – match up with your prayers as far as honesty?

Second, honesty draws us closer to God.

I grew weary of rote prayers as a kid.  My family had a 12-word rote prayer that we sometimes uttered around the dinner table:

“Thank you Father for this food in Jesus’ name we pray Amen.”

Memorized and careless statements aren’t going to draw us any closer to God.  Instead, He wants to know how we really feel.

Twelve days after our first date, I took Kim for a drive to the beach.  That night, we both shared things with each other that we had never shared with anyone else.

Up until that night, I had always tried to impress girls with my cleverness, or humor, or sports ability.

But Kim wasn’t impressed by those things … so I dropped the pretense and felt safe enough to share who I really was with her.

The honesty we started to display that night has bound us together for nearly 40 years.

God wants us to act in the same way toward Him.  The more honest we are with Him, the closer we’ll feel to Him.

And that often starts with being more candid and expressive with God in our prayers.

Finally, honesty attracts others to our faith.

Although Asaph laments his life in Psalm 77, he still refers to “my God” and “my Lord.”

He still held onto his relationship with God even though his life felt like crap.

There are millions of people in our culture who have rejected the Christian faith and do all they can to avoid church.

I have often wondered if what we’re missing in our worship is the authenticity found in the Psalms.

If you know me at all, you know how much I love music.

And the more honest the song, the better I like it, which is why I love songwriters like Dylan, Van Morrison, Johnny Cash, Neil Young, and Bono.  (Ever listened to the lyrics to U2’s “Acrobat?”  That’s a whole blog right there.)

But most of the Christian music that I own isn’t very honest.  I get the impression that the songwriter is writing what he or she feels they’re supposed to write rather than what they’d like to write … if their record company would let them.

Since the Psalms were the hymnbook of Israel, can you imagine singing the words of Psalm 77 or Psalm 31 in a worship service as Israel did?

In most churches, I look around and notice less than half the people singing.

Could it be that the words don’t reflect the way they feel inside?

I realize that in many of the Psalms, the songwriter may view life negatively at the beginning of the psalm and later view life – and God – more positively later in the psalm.

But I usually don’t see this pattern reflected in worship lyrics.

Maybe if our music was more authentic, we’d feel closer to God … and attract more people.

Because while people want answers to their questions about life, they want something else even more:

They just want someone to listen to them.

And God loves to listen to authentic praying and singing.

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Two days ago, I read an article about a Christian leader that broke my heart … and I can’t get it out of my mind.

Tom White, long-time executive director of Voice of the Martyrs, committed suicide several weeks ago as police were investigating a molestation charge against him.  You can read the story here:

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2012/aprilweb-only/tom-white-accusations.html

I’ve admired the work that VOM has done for a long time.  My prayer is that this tragedy doesn’t affect the crucial work they’re doing in calling attention to persecuted believers all over the world … and that God will grant Tom White’s family and his VOM colleagues His peace.

While reading this article, I thought about the many Christian leaders that I’ve known or respected who were discovered to be all too human and fallible.

Professors at Christian schools.  Missionaries.  Prominent pastors.  Christian vocalists and musicians.  Parachurch leaders.  Evangelists.  Associate pastors.  Televangelists.

Some preached against divorce … and eventually went through their own divorce.

Others railed against adultery … only to be seduced themselves.

Some preached a prosperity gospel … and later lost everything.

And some have behaved in ways that we … and even they … cannot fathom.

Back in the late 1980s, when there was a rash of scandals involving Christian leaders, we were told that leaders needed to demonstrate greater accountability, and that this single step would halt most of the scandals.

Maybe so … but I have a different take on this.

I believe there is a direct correlation between doing ministry and personal pain.

The more committed you are to ministering to others, the more pain you will experience in your own life.

If you doubt me, read 2 Corinthians.   In 1 Corinthians, Paul tries to address various issues at Corinth and restrains himself when it comes to expressing his own emotions.

But in 2 Corinthians, Paul lets it all hang out, and at times it’s difficult to read.  Just a few examples:

1:8: “We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life.”

2:4: “For I wrote you out of great distress and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to grieve you but to let you know the depth of my love for you.”

4:8-9: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

7:5: “For when we came to Macedonia, this body of ours had no rest, but we were harassed at every turn – conflicts on the outside, fears within.”

11:23-25: “I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again.  Five times I received frm the Jews the forty lashes minus one.  Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea.”

And then there’s this one:

11:28-29: “Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.  Who is weak, and I do not feel weak?  Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn?”

Notice that?  Besides all the physical pain that Paul endured for Christ, he also felt emotional and spiritual pain because he cared so much for others.

When I entered church ministry, I was told in general terms that I would suffer.  I plowed ahead anyway.

What I wasn’t told … and most of us aren’t … is that there are times when the pain becomes so great that you have to pull back.

If there were more rejoicers than weepers … or just as many … the ministry would be more bearable.

But most of the time, there are far more weepers than rejoicers … and after a while, the hurts of others gets to you, and you don’t know what to do with all that pain.

You’d like to lean on your wife, but she has her own pain to deal with, and she’s already tired of hearing about yours.

You’d like to talk with a counselor, but you don’t know who to trust, and you suspect that counseling will uncover more of your own buried pain.

You’d like to tell your board, but you’re afraid they’ll condemn you or fire you, so you stay silent.

You want to tell somebody about your pain, but you can’t find anyone who’s safe enough to trust.

And so you stuff it … and the pain starts turning into anxiety, anger, and depression.

And when you finally do something stupid … or take your own life … people wonder why you didn’t reach out for help.

Maybe you should have reached out … or maybe you just didn’t know where to go for help.

I’ve visited a lot of churches over the past 2 1/2 years – probably at least 40.

And in the course of listening to many preachers, I’ve come to this conclusion: I wouldn’t dare share a personal problem with most of them.  Know why?

Because they don’t dare share their humanity with us.

When I hear a pastor tell a story on himself … or admit that he struggles with certain issues … or needs the gospel just as much as I do, I’m drawn to him.  I feel safe with him.

But when I don’t hear any humanity coming from the pulpit … when the pastor says “you” and not “we” … when he yells and condemns and intimates, “I have it all together” – I don’t feel safe … and I’m sure I’m not alone.

The ethos of much of the Christian world seems to be, “Even though you aren’t perfect, you better act like you are, so you can keep your job and your reputation.”

But Christian leaders aren’t perfect.  Every one is messed up in some way.  They all have their issues, wounds, and struggles … just like you do … and just like Paul did.

I don’t know whether Tom White did anything wrong or not.  We may never know.

But I do know this: we’re all weak and vulnerable at times.  Because of the pain in our lives, we’re all tempted to do stupid stuff.

And all of us – including Christian leaders – need safe people we can talk with and safe places we can go so that we can experience healing and continue in ministry.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul quoted Jesus as saying that His “power is made perfect in weakness.”

Not in strength … in weakness.

Act like you’re strong all the time, and you’ll eventually succumb to weakness.

Admit that you’re weak, and you’ll become strong.

Your thoughts?

I’ll write more on this topic another time.

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Who were your heroes growing up?

I had so many.

In baseball, I loved Sandy Koufax, Brooks Robinson, and Willie Mays.

In football, it was Johnny Unitas and Lance Alworth.

And in basketball, it was Jerry West.  Number 44 of the Los Angeles Lakers.  Their All-Star guard who was nicknamed Mr. Clutch.

West could do anything on a basketball floor.

In 1969, a man from my church took my brother and me to 13 Laker games at The Forum, including all four games in the Finals against the hated Boston Celtics.

Jerry West scored 53 points in Game 1, and although plagued by a hamstring problem, he scored 42 in Game 7.  He was named the MVP of the Finals, the only player ever so named from a losing team.

When he came off the court after Game 7, the great John Havlicek of the Celtics told West, “I love you and I just hope you get a championship.  You deserve it as much as anyone who has ever played this game.”

The great Bill Russell – the second greatest player of all time – told West at a night held in his honor two years later, “If I could have one wish granted, it would be that you would always be happy.”

That’s how his opponents felt about the guy.

Last year, I worked my way through Roland Lazenby’s Jerry West: The Life and Legend of a Basketball Icon.

This past Tuesday, West by West: My Charmed, Tormented Life, his psychological autobiography, was released to the public.  I had to have it.

What a book!

It’s a glimpse into the mind and heart of a champion, but also an honest portrayal of why West is such a complex person.

West talks about the beatings he received from his father as a child – for no reason at all.  (West kept a shotgun under his bed and told his father that he’d use it if he had to.)

Because hanging around the house was so unpleasant, West found solace in a variety of solitary outdoor activities, including hiking, fishing – and shooting hoops.

Jerry West worshiped his older brother David.  David planned to study for the ministry and become “a man of God.”

But when David was killed in the Korean War, life in the West household changed forever.

Despite the heartaches, West eventually became one of the greatest athletes in West Virginia history.  He became a first-team All-American, won the gold medal in basketball (along with Oscar Robertson) in the 1960 Olympics in Rome, and went on to establish an incredible 14-year career in the National Basketball Association.

I got his autograph on several occasions.  He once appeared at the Broadway Department store near my home.  Hardly anybody showed up to meet him or obtain his signature (they weren’t worth much then) – so I got signed pictures for many of my friends.

When my wife was pregnant with our first child, we didn’t know what to name him if he was a boy.  (We didn’t want to know the sex.)  One month before his birth, I noticed in the LA Times that Jerry West had named his new son Ryan Andrew.

And that’s what we named our son.

West was so good that his silhouette is on the NBA Logo.  In Bill Simmons’ The Book of Basketball – published in 2009 – Simmons rates West the 8th greatest player of all-time, ahead of immortals like Oscar Robertson and Kobe Bryant.

Jerry West is now 73 years old.  He serves as a consultant with the Golden State Warriors, having left the Lakers after spending four decades with the organization.

And yet with all his accomplishments, West has never truly been happy.

He talks openly in the book about how much he hated losing to the Celtics (6 times in the Finals in the 1960s) and how that led to a divorce, how he’s never learned to swim, how he hates the limelight, how he’s spent years battling depression – and how tough it is being a perfectionist.

I always hoped that Jerry West was a Christ-follower, yet there isn’t any evidence to support my wish.

But I have to admire his honesty.

I’ve been seeing some TV commericals recently featuring happy people who finally say, “I’m So-and-So, and I’m a Mormon.”

Translation: if you become a Mormon, you can become happy like me.

(If I became a Mormon, I’d have to commit intellectual suicide, so that’s not an option.)

Mormons come off to me as image conscious.  In my opinion, they’re not very good at being real.

They’re too busy trying to be perfect.

We Christians are anything but perfect.  We not only have weaknesses, but we sin.  That’s why we need Jesus – and why only Jesus will do.

In fact, sometimes we struggle with sins for years.  And sometimes we struggle with our humanity, too – just like Jerry West.

I resonate with people who are honest, which is why I love West’s book.

I’m drawn to honest people, even if they’re deeply flawed.  It’s why I love the Psalms so much.

I can’t relate to seemingly perfect televangelists who cultivate an antiseptic image so they can keep the donations flowing.

But I definitely connect with people who are real.

Thank you, Jerry, for letting me know I’m not the only person who struggles with certain issues.

I just wish I knew more Christians who are like you.

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