Tag: Burnout

Your Labor Is Not in Vain

Your labor is not in vain
Though the ground underneath you is cursed and stained
Your planting and reaping are never the same
Your labor is not in vain

There is a story in our family about my dad. He and my mom were on a home leave, having just finished their second four-year term in Pakistan. They were at a Christian retreat center where my dad studied during the day, taking required linguistic and Bible courses, and my mom took care of five children aged one to eleven. It was a lot.

My dad was tired and deeply discouraged. He and my mom had been living in Pakistan for ten years. They had come with one child and now had five. The toll of life in a remote area of a Muslim-majority country had caught up with him. The heat in the summer, living in what was at the time the hottest recorded area in South Asia; the absence of family and an English-speaking church to be a part of; the sense that no matter how hard you tried, you would never truly belong. There were team conflicts and cultural misunderstandings, dysentery, and children with broken bones.

But more than all this were the overriding questions in his mind: Does this matter? Are we here for nothing? What is the point of all this? Of missionary service? Of leaving all that is familiar? At heart, perhaps, he was asking, “Do I matter?”

My dad was ever the optimist. He was a stick-to-it, big-hearted, generous man. But his optimism had failed him. It was dead, somewhat like the desert ground where we lived in the Sindh region of Pakistan, brown and barren where nothing could grow. His heart felt the same.

It was during a morning study time while deep into examining the book of Acts that he experienced a breakthrough in his heart, soul, and mind. As he was reading about those missionary journeys so long ago, the ones that ended in shipwreck, hunger, and letters to tell about it, he suddenly saw himself as part of a bigger story, a story that began thousands of years before and would end in something so impossibly wonderful that no human could begin to describe it.

Yes, he was small. Yes, from the world’s perspective he was woefully insignificant. But his labor was not in vain. More than that, small as his work might be on the world stage, he knew without a doubt that he was beloved by a God who knew him.

Your labor is not unknown
Though the rocks they cry out and the sea it may groan
The place of your toil may not seem like a home
But your labor is not unknown

It’s this that comes to mind as I think of all of you. Sure, there are a few of you who might claim the word “influencer,” but overall, you are laboring without a lot of recognition. You may feel recognized at the occasional church while on home leave. For a brief hour you might feel famous even — your picture on the bulletin board with your kids looking halfway decent. Maybe you occasionally speak during the service when a pastor magnanimously gives up his spot, talking about the work, calling to mind God’s faithfulness even as you doubt all that you once knew.

Your work in Kuala Lumpur, Bangalore, Chittagong, Karachi, Bangkok, Shanghai, Jakarta, or a thousand other places may be filled with small, irritating difficulties or with major challenges. Divisions in your team, open hostility in your workplace, and insurmountable cultural differences may have you defeated. You may, like my dad, be thinking, “Why does any of this matter?”

Wherever you are, you are a small part of a massive universe.

Yet this is truth: you are a small part infinitely loved by God, and your labor is not in vain. Maybe your work is in Bible translation, and for weeks you’ve been stuck on three sentences as you translate from English to Greek to Brahui. Maybe you are a mom raising five kids, your hard-earned master’s degree languishing on a shelf while you pour yourself out trying to keep bugs out of the flour, humidity out of the house, and kids out of the hospital. Maybe you are a nurse working in the developing world wondering how on earth you can continue to function with so few resources. Whatever your situation, know this: your work matters, you matter. Your labor is not in vain.

The houses you labored to build
Will finally with laughter and joy be filled
The serpent that hurts and destroys will be killed
And all that is broken be healed

I write this piece from a place of transition — one of the many I have had through the years. My work in the Middle East ended abruptly with little warning, leaving me with dead dreams and deep grief. Since that time, amidst family crises and a global pandemic, I have slowly built a new career and a new place. All of that is now changing with budget cuts and family needs.

But whether in my passport country or overseas, throughout my life, there are times when I, like my dad, wonder if any of these matter. When doubt over the goodness and presence of God overwhelms me, threatening to control all I do and think. Yet, repeatedly, I have seen His goodness, His mercy, His grace in unexpected ways. In the dark, I have come to know it as God’s quiet whisper reminding me that nothing is wasted, that what I do, and more importantly who I am, matters.

So, as we wait for all to be made right, for our broken world to be restored, Christ at its center and evil defeated, may we know that the God who called us by name is with us, that our labor is not in vain.

For I have called you, called you by name
Your labor is not in vain

   

All lyrics © The Porter’s Gate “Your Labor Is Not in Vain.” Based on 1 Corinthians 15:38.

Stop Burning Out for Jesus

by Valerie Limmer

Jesus once told a parable about ten bridesmaids — five wise and five foolish. I’ve often heard the parable taught in church as a lesson in being prepared to wait for Jesus’s return and not becoming complacent in the waiting. But is that really what it’s about?

All of the women fell asleep. There was no difference in their level of activity — only in their preparedness. One set literally burned themselves out and didn’t leave anything to replenish themselves with. The other set also fell asleep, but when their lamps ran low, they had brought extra supply. 

Which brings me to a new conclusion: This parable could just as easily be about not burning ourselves out as it is about waiting.

People in ministry love Jesus. They often dedicate their lives, their hobbies, their energy and resources to sharing the good news about Him with others, serving people in the name of Jesus, and advocating for the weak and helpless. This work can be all-consuming. We do it “for the sake of the Gospel.”

But is that what God really asks of us?

I’ve written before about how giving up more than God asks of us can be just as bad as giving up less than He asks. When we do more than what He asks, we risk a different type of disobedience. After all, if a farmer asks me to plow a certain field, and I plow both that field and the one beside it too, am I being helpful—or did I just destroy a crop that wasn’t ready to be harvested?

Missionaries and pastors seem particularly susceptible to the lie that working ourselves to exhaustion is somehow a demonstration of godliness. It may be a demonstration of dedication to our work, but not of our dedication to God. So what does this parable tell us about the right way to approach our work? 

  1. We need to be prepared for Christ to take longer.

He is not — and never was — going to come according to our schedule. He is our leader. We are not His.

If God has called us to ministry, it may be for a lifetime, or it may be for a season. If it’s for a season, He will redeploy us somewhere else when we’re done. In either case, we cannot afford to pour an entire lifetime of energy into only a few years before we burn ourselves out.

Once we burn out, there’s no guarantee we will ever come back. Some people’s personalities and mental health are changed forever.

  1. The things we do may look similar to what others do.

The work of a Christian advocate for the poor might look very similar to that of the work of someone who’s not a Christian, but the nuances will be different. The motivations will be different. The spiritually-holistic approach will be different.

If we anchor our sense of accomplishment and well-being in Jesus rather than the results of our work, our mental and spiritual health will also be different. Jesus can give us the stamina to keep going, to live an entire lifetime of faithfulness. It’s that longevity that often stands out more than anything else to the people who observe and come after us. 

Our testimony doesn’t just consist of what we do. It consists of our faithfulness in doing it. Not just for a few years, but for a lifetime.

  1. We need to leave ourselves enough resources to last, so we can keep burning.

Our lives and ministries should consume those resources at a sustainable rate. In other words, we shouldn’t be constantly edging towards burnout, even if we don’t quite get there. We should always be engaging in self-care practices and rest that replenish our resources.

This “leave enough resources” principle isn’t just intended for the person in ministry, but for their family as well. If we don’t leave ourselves enough to take care of our spouses and families, then, as Paul says, “Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever” (1 Timothy 5:8).

This may mean that as we age, our activities diminish somewhat, apace with diminishing energy. 

It also means that we make rest a part of our rhythms of ministry. Depleted, we may be able to put on a good show for a while — perhaps falling back on old journals and moments of learning during times when we were less worn — but eventually our depletion will show itself in our ministries. 

This could be in the form of ever-decreasing nourishment in the things we teach. It could also be in the form of a fall into sin. Depleted people are more likely to stumble and fall. Rest is not just required for our own refreshment. It’s required to sustain godliness.

If our rest is insufficient, we won’t have the energy to pursue God—really pursue Him in devotions. Sitting in silence takes focus and energy. Meditation takes energy and creativity (another thing that turns off in fatigue). Intensive prayer takes loads of energy. 

Is it any wonder, then, that taking a Sabbath rest is one of the Ten Commandments? That commandment is a fundamental undergirding, a support for our obedience in every other dimension.

In contrast, how many people have become shells of their former selves, have lost their faith, or caused their families to lose their faith because of their obsession with serving with no thought to wisely stewarding their time, efforts, and energy so they’ll be sustainable through the long haul? 

I now think that Jesus’s admonition at the end of the parable of the lamps in Matthew 25 to “keep watch” (“be on the alert,” the NASB says) is actually an admonition to take care of our own resources so that we can keep burning — no matter when He comes.

Originally published here; reprinted with permission.

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Originally from Canada, Valerie Limmer lives in Okinawa, Japan, where she’s served as a missionary with her husband since 2011, partnering with the local church to focus on outreach and discipleship. Their Japanese pastor calls them “bridge-makers,” facilitating relationships with the community. Valerie is the author of Captive Set Free: How to Find Freedom Through Forgiving and On the Potter’s Wheel, a memoir of disability on the mission field. To learn more about her work or to read more of her articles, visit peterandvalerie.com/OurBlog.

Are You in Burnout?

I was talking to another worker recently who mentioned that she might be in burnout. She was expressing her frustration with a long season of exhaustion, low capacity, and lack of motivation. 

“I keep thinking that this will go away and I’ll get my energy back, but it’s been months and I’m still struggling,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes. “What is wrong with me? I just can’t do everything that needs to be done.”

Having been there myself, I knew exactly what she meant. I could fully empathize with her tears and frustration. It wasn’t what she wanted as she planned her year, but I knew it was vital for her to recognize it and get the needed help for recovery.

Our conversation moved into new year dreams and plans, keeping the conversation low-pressure and gentle. When burnout is involved, gentleness is the only way forward. 

What is Burnout?

Unfortunately, burnout is common among those living and working overseas. It’s especially prominent in ministry contexts. With the added layers of language, culture, and transition, workers experience high-stress, high-overwhelm jobs and lives. 

For global workers, burnout rarely comes from a single crisis. It more often develops slowly through prolonged stress, great responsibility, cultural adjustment, relational strain, organizational dysfunction, and limited space for rest and recovery.

So what is burnout? Burnout can be described as a state of on-going physical and mental exhaustion that is caused by chronic, unmanaged stress and that often presents with memory loss, brain fog, low sensory tolerance, and a reduced sense of effectiveness.

According to the World Health Organization’s classification, burnout is an occupational phenomenon that results from chronic, work-place stress. 

In pop psychology, it can be defined simply as what happens when you give more energy than you have for too long, without enough rest, support, or relief. It’s not just being tired. It’s feeling emotionally drained, mentally overwhelmed, and disconnected from things that once mattered.

You find yourself more cynical, less patient, easily irritable, and continuously annoyed.

You can’t solve problems as easily as you once did, and you might be more prone to sickness, unable to sleep at night, fatigued even after resting, and feeling internally depleted.

If this sounds familiar, you could be in burnout. 

Remember, burnout isn’t caused by one bad day. It’s the result of chronic stress, intense responsibility, and a lack of recovery time between stressors. It’s then magnified when it hasn’t been seriously considered or properly supported. 

In overseas ministry, burnout can be ongoing due to cultural adaptation, high emotional demand, spiritual needs, family pressure, blurred boundaries, limited access to safe support systems, and a call to keep going, keep serving, keep doing no matter the cost. 

And even when this is recognized as burnout, it’s often misunderstood, minimized, or spiritualized away.

What about Neurodiversity and Burnout?

For neurodivergent individuals (including ADHD, autism spectrum, sensory processing differences, and other neurological variations), burnout can develop more quickly and take slower recovery.

This is especially true in cross-cultural settings where sensory input is high, social expectations are different, there is a need for sustained masking, and daily life lacks routine and stability.

Neurodivergent burnout may include increased sensory sensitivity, loss of executive functioning skills previously available, heightened emotional reactivity or shutdown, and feeling unable to “bounce back” in familiar ways.

This is not personal failure or a lack of faith. It is your nervous system on full overload.

Getting Help and Finding Support

The first step is to recognize burnout as part of the story. The next step is harder because it means giving yourself permission to be human, need rest, and ask for help. It requires taking an honest look at your capacity, job requirements, team structure, family needs, and all the things that impact your energy each day.

It could also mean both big changes and small adjustments that require boundaries, saying no, or showing up differently. It might mean evaluating what is working and what is not working in your current situation or place of service.

Burnout recovery is most effective when it includes safe support. For overseas workers, this means finding intentional, structured spaces that are aware and ready for full vulnerability.

Support may include coaching, counseling, or debriefing with someone who is trained in cross-cultural work and/or neurodiversity care. 

Recovery requires safe spaces to name grief, loss, or resentment without judgment with the permission to pause, reflect, and recalibrate without fear of consequences.

Gentle Reminders for Burnout Recovery

Burnout recovery is not linear. It cannot be rushed. There must be a reduction in responsibilities, intentional slowing, incremental change, and increased rest.

Restoring the nervous system means predictable rhythms, sensory safety, and relational attunement, knowing that capacity returns slowly.

Burnout recovery happens best when you can recognize the signs, seek support, and know that you don’t have to carry it alone.

Burnout is not a spiritual failure, lack of faith, or a personal deficit. It’s not evidence of calling or ministry ability. It’s not due to disobedience or sin or bad character, though God often reveals areas for growth, surrender, and honestly in these seasons of recovery. He lovingly helps name what’s been wrong or out of balance and brings healing to broken, hurting places.

Burnout can be a signal from your body, mind, and soul that something needs care. Often, that care needs the help of professionals who understand trauma, burnout recovery, and the impact of complex stress on your nervous system.

For those living and serving overseas, burnout is not easy to fix or something that can be willed away. But, thankfully, it does not have to be the end of your overseas story. 

With this new year beginning and plans unfolding, discovering that burnout is present can be discouraging and hard, but healing is possible. 

 

Download my burnout guide for global workers.

Find other A Life Overseas articles about burnout here.

 

A Tale of Christmas Fails

Is it just me, or does it feel like someone ups the ante on Christmas festivities each year? Between social media baking tutorials and Pinterest photos of homes that could only have been decorated by an elite squad of elves, it seems that there is always a new ritual to add to the Christmas repertoire.

Whether it’s incorporating a new Advent book, attempting to bake exquisitely decorated confectionery with kids who only show up to eat cookie dough, or hosting a myriad of parties for different circles within the community, Christmastime expectations and the lofty standards of beauty and decorum therein can be exhausting. 

As a chronic party-thrower, I somehow developed an annual Christmas ritual of well-intentioned self-destruction. Stage One commences shortly after American Thanksgiving and is marked by such an abundance of delusional excitement for Christmas festivities that I invariably fill up our calendar with parties, dinners, and plans to host guests for several days at a time.

Things will be pretty cheery until Stage Two hits, which usually happens around December 18th. This is when the party fatigue sets in, so I start perusing last-minute getaways to fantasize about flying to the Maldives and staying until the year’s end. Stage Three hits when I realize that following through with the aforementioned fantasy is far too expensive and would require more energy than I even have left in the tank. 

Bleary-eyed, caffeinated, and fueled by Christmas cookies for breakfast, I’ll power through to the final stretch of festivities with an eye twitch and nightly indigestion. By the time Christmas is over, my whole family is exhausted but grateful to bask in the quieted beauty of wintertime in the Arabian desert. 

For years, I have hated myself for this annual cycle of Christmas fatigue. I could only truly contemplate the beauty of the long-awaited savior once the day had passed and the celebrations were over. My husband and I try to construct a holiday schedule that won’t leave us feeling like we are about to keel over and die, and each year we think that we’re about to do it right this time. Nevertheless, we find ourselves in the same condition year after year. 

As I entered the fourth and final stage of 2023’s Christmas failure ritual, aka the post-mortem pity party (guestlist of one), I re-shelved the Advent book I had purchased a month earlier with a doomed optimism. The words of “O Holy Night” played from my nearby speaker. 

Long lay the world in sin and error pining
‘Til he appeared and the soul felt its worth
A thrill of hope- the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

Contemplating the weariness of my own soul and the thrill of hope I felt in having the busyness behind me, the words of that hymn invited me to contemplate the chaos into which Christ was born. There were perhaps salacious whispers and rumors surrounding Mary’s unwedded pregnancy, and possibly a humiliating sense of rejection in Joseph’s fruitless search to secure lodging in his own hometown. 

And then there were the Israelites, God’s chosen people, who had labored for millennia to fulfill the requirements of their covenant festivities and sacrifices—all in remembrance of God’s promise and their own anticipation of a Savior that God himself had promised to provide. Their wait was laborious and rife with rebellion and rejection of their holy covenant, yet God was faithful to uphold his promise of deliverance. 

For some of us, there is just no getting around how difficult and stressful the Christmas season will be. While this time of year may be lively and joyous for some, it pangs with grief and the pressure to perform for others. If Christmastime does not hold hopeful anticipation for you, perhaps you are feeling the reality of just how desperately the world was pining for rescue. In the midst of what is hailed as “the most wonderful time of the year,” the truth is that many cannot help but yearn for December 26th. 

The Messiah’s coming was packaged with many emotions, but not all were particularly joyful. Joseph was ready to call it off with Mary prior to angelic intervention, and Jesus’ arrival was followed by the anguished wails of Bethlehem’s bereaved mothers. Meanwhile, Joseph and Mary fled the country to escape the royal manhunt for their baby, and the Magi had to take the backroads home to avoid the murderous fallout of unwittingly disclosing to King Herod that a powerful new king was in town. Even for those who knew the Messiah’s arrival meant salvation, their circumstances at the time of Jesus’ birth were marked by fear, chaos, and death.

If you are one who is feeling the weight of overwhelm, failure, and grief at Christmastime, know that you are in good company. These may not be the marketable emotions of Christmas, but they are certainly the reality of a weary world longing for rescue. While we know that our savior has conquered death, we can also relate to the raw pain of knowing that the fullest relief and comfort will not be felt until the effects of sin’s curse are finally and definitively crushed. 

Perhaps it’s time to lean into the stress and difficulty of Christmastime. Maybe the relief that we feel in the season’s passing is a holy one, and we can delight in the truth that Jesus’s arrival was complicated and surrounded by some traumatic scandals. Our savior was born into a world of sin, and that sin continues to take its toll on humanity today.

If the only hope that you feel at Christmas is that it will eventually be over, perhaps you know the desperate need for creation’s redemption more intimately than those who presently rejoice. While Jesus’ birth is indeed good news for all mankind, we can take comfort in knowing that he himself was a man of sorrows. He knows our pain, our weariness, and our failures. And with full knowledge of our innermost being, he chose to come and dwell with us. 

God did not pre-arrange global fanfare or the most hospitable of conditions, but rather sent his beloved son into a sinful world that was hemorrhaging chaos, dysfunction, and pain. These are the realities of our very need for Jesus. His arrival is precisely for those who come to Christmas depleted, broken, and sinful. So perhaps he meets us most intimately not in the parties, programs, or Christmas music, but in the quiet wake of their passing. 

How to Come Alongside a Friend in Burnout

Prior to our move overseas, I recall occasional talk about this thing called “burnout.” I could not articulate exactly what it meant, but it sounded like a toxic mix of depression, deep exhaustion, and despair. One counselor explained that burnout was like a house that has had a fire on the inside. From the front lawn, everything may look tidy and intact. But once you get inside, it is immediately clear by the smell and charred walls that this home was badly damaged and requires repair. Maybe it was confined to just one room, or maybe the entire interior needs to be remodeled. Either way, the house needs internal gutting and rebuilding before it can safely function again. 

More than a decade later, my husband and I got a crash course in “the notorious B.O.”, as we came to call it. Despite the good and beautiful fruit of God’s work in our personal lives and ministry that year, I felt exhausted and unmotivated. I had little motivation to get together with friends or go visit the Afghan ladies whom, at some point prior to those days, I had loved so dearly. Upcoming events sounded overwhelming, and I desperately wanted to find an escape route from every responsibility.

We knew that we both needed help, but the weight of the many responsibilities we were bearing felt too consuming to leave any margin for yet another regularly scheduled Zoom call with a counselor. Eventually, however, the alarms were blaring, and it was clear that if we did not get help soon, the fire damage on the inside of my proverbial house was going to cause the entire structure to collapse. 

In my particular case of burnout, I had allowed pressing, important work to overtake equally important, but non-urgent personal needs. Simultaneously, my husband was suffering under the weight of heavy work and ministry responsibilities. We wanted to cut back on his work hours, and we also realized we needed to raise extra support in order to stay on the field. It all felt crushing.

As we were in the middle of drawing up plans for the summer, my husband’s boss decided, without any prompting, to leave my husband’s pay and benefits unchanged despite the fact that he would be working fewer hours. Neither of us realized how heavily the issue of finances was weighing on us until it was lifted. This one massive change allowed both of us to see the parts of our lives that needed tending, so we began to pursue healing in the parts of our lives that were still sore and tender.

The first few calls with my counselor felt a bit monotonous as I told her some of my own history and background. She began asking me about the nature of my work. Having just completed an emotionally intense project, I could barely get through a sentence without beginning to weep. It became apparent that, while I had been talking openly with friends and teammates about the emotional toll of work, I had not allowed myself to feel the depths of it.

Soon after, I heard an Enneagram expert explain that some folks are quite skilled at talking about their feelings while still managing to shield themselves from actually feeling them. “Guilty,” I said aloud. I invited the Holy Spirit into the innermost depths of my thought life. I asked for peace in those corners where emotional jack-in-the-boxes of memories and mental pictures would lie dormant until my sleeping brain would pop them open to be anxiously scrutinized at 3 am. 

One particularly memorable session with my counselor included some questions about leisure time. “What is something you enjoy doing on a daily or weekly basis?” I could not, for the life of me, think of the last time I had gone out of my way to do something I (and not my kids) considered fun. I would go for runs some mornings, which I enjoy immensely, but as my schedule had become increasingly packed, morning runs were often overruled in favor of extra sleep.

My counselor instructed me to make a list of things that I would consider fun and could feasibly do in the coming weeks and months. The very task of being made to sit and consider what would be fun activities was much harder work than I thought it would be. It was as though I had forgotten what things brought me joy, like I had been subsisting with a charred interior for so long that I could not even remember what it should or could look like. 

One of the items on my “fun list” was to have regular lunch and coffee dates with friends. Not for accountability time, not to do a Bible study, and not for ministry planning. Just regular lunch dates for some good ‘ole fashioned fun. This was not the be-all, end-all solution, but the impact of these dear people on my well-being was immense. The healing I experienced was slow, but I could see that God was cleaning up many places in my heart that had been neglected or altogether forgotten. Mercifully, He moved slowly and with intention, taking time to clean, reorganize, and sometimes hoist a giant load of trash onto a burn pile. 

Those days were incredibly difficult, but the lovingkindness shown to me by friends shed light on how to come alongside others who are also trying to navigate recovery from burnout. Here are a few ways you can help a friend who is struggling:

1. Tell them it’s ok to complain. Some of us feel immense guilt for telling the truth of how hard certain situations or people are. We believe that sharing our experiences when it might paint someone in a negative light is wrong, or that we are dishonoring them by disclosing behavior or attitudes that have affected us. While situations may require us to anonymize individuals and keep some information confidential, we all need an outlet to talk about hard and painful experiences. Being a friend who is willing to hold space for the whole gamut of frustrations and pain is a noble task. It can sometimes be difficult to share these emotions because we, as global workers, tend to see a lot of suffering. The temptation to minimize our own troubles in relation to those of our neighbors is all too real, but our struggles are still valid. Plus, minimizing our pain since it’s “not as bad as That Guy’s” comforts neither That Guy nor you. 

2. Encourage them to get professional help. Burnout and depression tend to go hand in hand. I was recently talking to a friend about starting antidepressant medication, and she joked that sending organizations should distribute them as standard procedure in pre-field orientation. While your friend may not need medication, they will likely need some help examining the deeper issues that created ideal circumstances for burnout. Even if they already understand these things, extricating long-practiced habits from faulty internal narratives about God, ourselves, and others is where we can sometimes find ourselves at an impasse. A professional counselor who is experienced with global workers can be a great help to someone who is feeling stuck.

3. Remind your friend of God’s unrelenting love for them. Burnout, for better or worse, serves to remind us that we are not capable of doing or being everything that we had hoped. In the depths of this realization, the voice of shame speaks pretty loudly. Here are a few of the more common phrases burnout shame spews:

  • You should have been able to handle more than this.
  • Look at That Guy (or That Girl)! They are in almost the same situation as you but with even more responsibilities, and they are thriving. What’s wrong with you? You really are a failure.
  • You have nothing worthwhile to contribute.

    The often-overlooked truth is that God’s love for your friend is unrelenting. His loving presence is so un-forsaking that he goes into the depths of our pain and despair right with us. Your friend, and indeed all of us, need to be reminded of this truth.

4. Check in on them regularly. Bring over a favorite drink or ask to go on a walk together. Exercise has proven to be a powerful way to combat mild to moderate depression and build emotional resilience, but it can often be difficult to find the motivation or energy when people are experiencing burnout and depression. The exercise is helpful, of course, but the company of a friend who cares and will simply be present is priceless.

5. Assure them that taking a break is a good thing. A season of burnout can mean needing to step away from responsibilities or leaving the field altogether. For those of us in ministry, our identity and sense of purpose tends to be so tethered to our ministry output that the idea of stepping away feels cowardly. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Stepping away, whether for a season or indefinitely, is often the hardest step to take as it can contain so many unknowns. God’s healing power and love is not only for the people we minister to, but for your friend as well. 

If you or a friend are in a season of burnout, you are not alone. In fact, it is a common reality for many global workers. Those of us in ministry roles recognize the importance of our work and are often willing to make great sacrifices in order to do it well. The nature of our work is to serve and love people as Jesus did, but we tend to overlook the reality that our own souls, minds, and bodies also require as much care and attention as those whom we came to serve. While it may look different from season to season, our neediness for the healing love of Christ, delivered through the vessels of human hands and feet, will be present until the day we see Him face to face. Recognizing our frailty can be painful, but it is in these places where the body of Christ can meet despair with hope, pain with comfort, and weariness with relief.  

Contextualization Meets Burnout

by Carol Ghattas

Reading a verse is one thing; living it out is another. That is certainly the case for many of us who have read Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth and found this gem:

To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law…I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.

These words from chapter 9 encapsulate the work of contextualization for the modern Christian in cross-cultural service. Yes, the incarnation of Christ is the ultimate example, but since we’re not perfect like Christ, we tend to lean more on Paul’s words and model. Even so, we have big shoes to fill, as he seems to have had a head start with his multiple languages, passports, and education.

When moving toward cross-cultural service, we study and prepare, gaining insights from God’s Word and also from a long history of missionaries who have gone before. There is an implicit and sometimes explicit expectation that we will need to adjust how we live, speak, dress, and act in order to make inroads into the hearts and minds of those to whom we’re called. Unfortunately, in most cases, we are not told how incredibly difficult this is.

During my two years of service in Ivory Coast, West Africa, as much as I tried to dress like Ivorians, speak like Ivorians, and act like Ivorians, I could never completely fit in, because I was not Ivorian. I studied their culture but sometimes still had no clue as to why they did the things they did. Contextualization, however, can only take us so far. Not everything in a particular culture will jive with biblical teaching, and so efforts of contextualization will eventually conflict with our faith and convictions, leading us to stop at a certain action, word, or style of dress.

As we adapt and change our ways, looks, and even speech to reach others, the expectation on our side is that our efforts will open doors for the gospel. Unfortunately, the results do not always meet those expectations, and this is where contextualization meets burnout. We’ve made all the effort, with little fruit to show for it.

Burnout can also come at another point in serving others: when we lose ourselves in the contextualization process. This happens when we’ve worked so hard to conform our words and ways to another culture that we forget who we are and the end goal of our efforts in witness. The essence of contextualization is the word context. We adjust our lifestyle and witness in order to make them fit into this new reality in which we are now living.

Losing one’s self in contextualization means that we haven’t recognized the limits of the process. We’ve passed the limits where our faith and convictions should have stopped us, because we’re too eager to please and fit in. Once we’ve crossed that line, we’ve lost sight of the reason we’re living in this culture in the first place. Dangers of losing one’s self abound, because there is an enemy who is always working against us. We must always keep up our guard as we seek to be all things to all people for the sake of Christ.

Think of the child’s toy that helps them put specific shapes into their corresponding holes. Here I am, a square, now living in a society of circles. I can’t fit in until I shave off my rough edges, and that can be very painful. Yet, if it’s done remembering that at my core, I’m still that square, then I haven’t lost much and can now actually fit into two cultures. It’s when we throw away the core that burnout hits. What makes up my core? My faith and values are the rock-solid center of self. Culture and traditions come and go, but faith in Christ and the values he builds in me should never be sacrificed for the sake of fitting in.

To avoid burnout, I must always keep before me the reason I’m trying to fit in—to open doors for witness. I’m not trying to change because I love their culture or because I plan to live here the rest of my life; I’m changing and adjusting my lifestyle, words, or dress in order to build a bridge to the gospel. I want doors to open because of my efforts to be more circle-like in their eyes. The challenge in contextualization and becoming part of a culture is to make sure you understand why you’re doing what you’re doing and what is behind the meanings of words used. Never be afraid to ask questions or to make mistakes. Understanding the nuances of any culture is a long-term endeavor.

There is a point when I have to check myself and ask: “Am I still sharing the truth of the gospel in my words and actions or just trying to please people and not offend them?” When we are no longer able to answer in the affirmative, we’ve lost our way and must return to the basics in our faith and ministry.

While we make changes for the sake of conveying the gospel to others, it is important to remember that the sharing of the gospel can never be fully contextualized, as it would change its very nature. Paul started his proclamation to the Greeks in Athens by talking about their “unknown god,” but the God he revealed to them was completely different from all the gods they knew. Some who heard that day believed and wanted to hear more, while others sneered at his words. He contextualized the message enough to “fit into the hole,” but the core was still fully Jesus, and when Jesus is made known, people must make a choice.

The longer you live among another people group and adapt to their ways and language, the more you feel at home. The foreign becomes familiar, and you may now struggle to connect with your native homeland and family. It seems you can’t be fully at home in two places at once. As strangers in a strange land, we find hope in Christ Jesus our Lord. He reminds us that the only permanent home is the eternal one to come. Embracing this truth, we can handle the unintended consequences of contextualization and find balance in life and ministry.

~~~~~~~~

Carol B. Ghattas has over thirty years of experience in cross-cultural ministry and has lived in five countries in the Middle East and North Africa. Now back in the United States, she maintains an active blog site, lifeinexile.net. She is a writer and speaker on missions, Islam, and other topics. Her newest book, Not in Kansas Anymore: Finding Home in Cross-Cultural Service, is available through online book distributors in eBook and paperback formats. For more information or to contact Carol, visit her website: lifeinexile.net.

Shining Your Light without Burning Out

“Raise your hands in the air as high as you can,” says the motivational speaker on the stage. Then, looking over the crowd reaching skyward, he says, “Now, reach higher,” and they comply. The lesson? You can always do more, even when you think you’ve done as much as you can.

“I’ll give it 110%,” we say.

“Leave it all on the court,” they tell us.

But pushing ourselves beyond our limits can lead to burnout. When that happens, we can’t function anymore, and that’s not a good thing. And yet, for a cross-cultural worker, being burned out can feel like a respectable reason for leaving the field. I have nothing left to give. I’m spent. I worked too hard.

When my wife and I moved back to the States, I sometimes said it was because we were burned out, and that may very well have been true. But there were other times when I felt I didn’t deserve the label. It seemed that it should be reserved for the ones who’d worked a lot harder than I had.

“It’s better to burn out than to fade away,” we sing.

According to the WHO’s International Classification of Diseases, Revision 11, “burn-out” is an “occupational phenomenon” (rather than a medical condition). It is defined as “a syndrome conceptualized as resulting from chronic workplace stress that has not been successfully managed,” showing itself in

  • feelings of energy depletion or exhaustion,
  • increased mental distance from one’s job, or feelings of negativism or cynicism related to one’s job, and
  • reduced professional efficacy

Christina Maslach, professor emerita of psychology at UC Berkely and co-developer of the Maslach Burnout Inventory, says that while overwork is one of the factors that can lead to burnout, it’s not the only one. In fact, she identifies six mismatches between the work environment and worker that can cause job burnout. In a presentation at a DevOps Enterprise Summit three years ago, she described these as

  • demand overload,
  • lack of control,
  • insufficient reward,
  • breakdown of community,
  • absence of fairness, and
  • value conflicts

When I heard this list, I couldn’t help but think of the topics discussed in Sue Eenigenburg and Robynn Bliss’s Expectations and Burnout: Women Surviving the Great Commission. And even though Maslach is addressing a group of tech leaders, the content of her talk applies to people in other areas, including those working cross-culturally. Across all occupations, burnout, says Maslach, is like the canary in the coal mine. When the canary can’t breath, the solution isn’t to toughen up the bird but instead to find out and fix what’s wrong with the air. To put it another way, she says, prevention is a better strategy than coping.

I would encourage you to watch Maslach’s presentation, whatever your role in cross-cultural work, as leaders or followers. Some of you have a leadership position in your organization or on your team and can influence the situations of those under your authority. Some of you are your own boss. All of you have jobs that include responding to the expectations of others (agencies, sending churches, supporters, team leaders, supervisors, coworkers, and the like). Maslach’s insights are useful to us all.

Of course, serving and living overseas adds extra layers to what we call our “workplace,” and there will be some factors of cross-cultural life that are out of anyone’s control. But when we see the effects of a toxic environment, what of the six problems above can we or others solve or mitigate, working towards turning mismatches into good fits?

What can we do, though, if we’re feeling overwhelmed while waiting for (asking for, hoping for, praying for) circumstances to change? How do we foster personal health in an unhealthy environment? Several years ago, I wrote a post titled “Surviving? Thriving? How about Striving?” in which I presented another option for those who are able to survive overseas but for whom thriving seems out of reach. To suggest that we “strive,” though, might sound to some as if I’m saying we need to “try harder,” and that isn’t my intention. If I were to write that post again, I’d insert some advice from Aundi Kolber. It’s to “try softer,” which is the name of a book she’s written. For my purposes, I’d rephrase it as “strive softer.”

Kolber, a licensed professional counselor, writes that it’s not necessary for us to “white-knuckle our way through life.” Instead, we should practice “paying compassionate attention” to ourselves. She describes this as “in a sense, learning to steward for ourselves what God already believes about us—that we’re valuable and loved.”

When we are not paying attention to our inner worlds, we are susceptible to emotional burnout, exhaustion, emotional dysregulation, and chronic pain. Because our brains are shaped around what we notice, it’s important that we become better and more effective at listening—and responding—to what our minds and bodies are telling us. This is the journey of trying softer.

In Try Softer (the book’s subtitle is A Fresh Approach to Move Us out of Anxiety, Stress, and Survival Mode—and into a Life of Connection and Joy), Kolber covers a lot of ground, diving deep into such subjects as trauma response, neuroscience, attachment theory, windows of tolerance, and boundaries, helping us learn how to understand ourselves and how we came to be who we are. Then she follows that up with “new practices and rhythms,” practical suggestions to help us try softer. It’s well worth a read. Or if you’d rather just get a short overview of what Kolber has to say, you can follow this link to a 45-minute video interview she had with author and podcaster Nicole Unice.

Striving softer isn’t just for staying on the field. It’s what we should do to continue walking with and serving God, wherever we are. It’s a good way to live life.

Giving anything more than 100% can’t be done.

Leaving it all on the court means your playing days are over.

Burning out isn’t an honor you earn from maximum effort.

And as for “It’s better to burn out than to fade away,” I can think of a whole lot of other songs that are more worth singing.

(“Burn-Out an ‘Occupational Phenomenon’: International Classification of Diseases,” World Health Organization, May 28, 2019; Christina Maslach, Understanding Job Burnout, presentation at DOES19 London, July 1, 2019; Aundi Kolber, Try Softer: A Fresh Approach to Move Us out of Anxiety, Stress, and Survival Mode—and into a Life of Connection and Joy, Tyndale, 2020)

[photo: “Lights Out,” by Pulpolux !!!, used under a Creative Commons license]

Ouch! I think I strained my life!

You know what I’m talking about, right? The moment it catches up to you (mid-thirties, usually) and you realize you’re going to have to stop and get gas.

I bent over to field a grounder and couldn’t walk for 3 days.
I sneezed too enthusiastically and my neck wasn’t right for a week.

Or

I filled up my schedule and now I don’t have time for my kids (aka “Cats in the Cradle”).
I’m so busy serving everyone else that my soul shriveled up like a desiccated fish in Djibouti.

Or

Honestly, I don’t know how to stop.
I’m just waiting until ___________ (fill in the blank) and then it’ll get better.

This strained life should lead to a pause, a re-calibration, perhaps a realization that our failure to rest wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world. Often, however, a strained life leads to guilt and shame and a redoubled push to do harder. Everyone else on Instagram seems to be handling life perfectly. (It’s amazing what filters and curating can do, btw.)

And besides, our work is IMPORTANT! Important I tell you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The greatest act of faith a man can perform is the act that we perform every night. We abandon our identity, we turn our soul and body into chaos and old night. We uncreate ourselves as if at the end of the world: for all practical purposes we become dead men, in the sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection.” G. K. Chesterton, In Defense of Sanity

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Would it help you to consider sabbath as an intentional act of faith?

Would it be easier to enter into regular rest if you saw it as an act of defiance, a railing against workaholism and works-based salvation? Because it is.

If you’re feeling the strained life, please pause.

Breathe.

It might not have to be that way.

How long can your soul take it, this incessant work and pressure? How long can your relationships take it?

Seasons of higher stress are normal (um, transition?!). Seasons of less sleep are normal (infants, anyone?). But even so, the thing that folks seem to miss is the turning of a season into an age; a winter turning into an ice age.

If any of this goes twang, pay attention. And maybe read an article or something.

But first, breathe.

 

Some articles:

 

Some books:
At various times of my life, God has used these books to slow me down, to re-center my soul, and to draw me, once again, into the secure, peaceful, presence of the King.

The book descriptions are from Amazon, and the links are affiliate links. In other words, any book purchased through one of these links helps A Life Overseas stay afloat, so thanks!

 

 

Margin: Restoring Emotional, Physical, Financial, and Time Reserves to Overloaded Lives, by Dr. Richard Swenson

Margin is the space that once existed between ourselves and our limits. Today we use margin just to get by. This book is for anyone who yearns for relief from the pressure of overload. Reevaluate your priorities, determine the value of rest and simplicity in your life, and see where your identity really comes from. The benefits can be good health, financial stability, fulfilling relationships, and availability for God’s purpose.

 

 

 

 

Flee, Be Silent, Pray: Ancient Prayers for Anxious Christians, by Ed Cyzewski

What if prayer could be simple rather than strenuous?

Anxious, results-driven Christians can never pray enough, serve enough, or study enough. But what if God is calling us not to frenzied activity but to a simple spiritual encounter? What if we must merely receive what God has already given us?

In Flee, Be Silent, Pray, writer and contemplative retreat leader Ed Cyzewski guides readers out of the anxiety factory of contemporary Christianity and toward a God whose love astounds those quiet long enough to receive it. With helpful guidance into solitude, contemplative prayer, and practices such as lectio divina and the Examen, Cyzewski guides readers toward the Christ whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light.

Ready to shed the fear of the false self and the exhaustion of a duty-driven faith? Flee. Be silent. Pray.

 

 

Finding Spiritual Whitespace: Awakening Your Soul to Rest, by Bonnie Gray

Running on empty with no time for rest, yourself, or God? Soulful author Bonnie Gray shows how to create spiritual whitespace in the everyday for God, refreshment, and faith—right in the midst of our stress-frayed lives. She guides you to discover a better story for yourself, one that feeds your soul and makes room for rest.

 

 

 

 

Death is right around the corner. So live!

I’ve always thought like this.

I’ve always believed my life was going to be very short. Nearly every time I publish an article or preach a sermon, I think, “Well, I said it, I guess I can die now.”

I don’t have a desire to die, it’s just that I live with a gut-level realization that I could die. Any minute.

It’s not morbid. At least it doesn’t feel morbid. It feels realistic. And frankly, ever since I was a teenager, I’ve been amazed at how people can not live this way.

Thoughts of imminent death don’t fill me with dread or motivation. They don’t scare me into action or inaction. You know what they do fill me with? You know what they do generate in me? Gratefulness. God’s got this world, and it’s his job to run it, to save it. I show up as long as I can, obey as best I can, love every one I can, and then leave. Soon, I’ll exit stage right and the whole thing will keep going. The curtain won’t go down. Grace will keep going.

So how do we live with an awareness of our imminent mortality? How should that awareness impact our lives and ministries?

Well, what did Jesus do when he knew his time was short? He spent time with his friends, he washed feet. He said some things. He prayed.

He spent some very “unproductive” time at his favorite hillside garden retreat. He didn’t race the clock or yield to a flurry of last minute ministry activity. He walked. He prayed.

As cross-cultural Christian workers, we often allow the specter of death (ours or others’) to fling us into frenetic activity. But I love what C.S. Lewis wrote about living with an awareness of death. In his case, he was writing to those living under fear of death by atomic bomb, but his broader points apply here too.

He said,

“The first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb, when it comes, find us doing sensible and human things — praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts — not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs.”

Living and working cross-culturally is hard, and we often forget the joys of the little things. We need rhythms of rest and Sabbath to restore us, to remind us of how much we need the “sensible and human things.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We’re one month into a four-month trip Stateside, and before we got here, Elizabeth and I made a purposeful decision to do the “human things”: we decided to set aside the first month to reconnect with family, to play together, to travel a bit for fun, and to rest. And I’m so glad we did.

This first month back has been precisely what we needed. I’m sleeping better. I’m seeing a counselor to debrief our last term in Cambodia. It’s wonderful. One of my kids noticed the change and said, “You’re different, dad. You are laughing more.” The kid was right.

The job is hard. The ministry is hard, and we all need to remember to slow down, to live.

We all need to work hard and we need to Sabbath hard.

Remember, regular times of rest are evidence of discipline, not laziness.

Regrouping, reconnecting, restoring, recreating, are godly endeavors, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I would talk more, but I’m busy. I’m busy laughing with my kids, playing in the grass, reconnecting with friends and family, and remembering that there is good in the world. Do you need to do that too?

After all, Christ is Risen!

 

 

More resources:

Can humor be a spiritual discipline?

Please Stop Running

Margin: the wasted space we desperately need

Regarding Burnout (and some ideas for avoiding it)

Check out this collection of our most-read articles

Consider this the Table of Contents for a book on missions, cross-cultural living, grief, TCKs, MKs, missiology, common pitfalls, transition, short-term missions, relating to senders, and a whole lot more.

I figured it was time to compile our most-read posts and present them to you, organized by topic. So here they are, 85 of our most-read posts ever.

My hope is that this article, this Table of Contents, if you will, would serve as one massive resource for those of you who are new to our community, those of you who’ve been hanging out here all along, and even for you, our future reader, who just found our little corner of the internet. Welcome!

Many thanks to the authors who’ve poured into our community, aiming to build and help (and sometimes challenge) the missionary world and the churches that send. If this site has been helpful to you, would you consider sharing this post with your friends and colleagues and missions leaders?

A Life Overseas is loosely led, with a tiny overhead (that covers the costs of the website), and a bunch of volunteer writers and tech folk. Why do we do it? We’re doing this for you! We’re doing this because we like you and we want to see cross-cultural workers (and their families!) thriving and succeeding and belonging. We’re doing this because we believe the Lamb is worthy. We’re doing this because we believe that God’s love reaches beyond our country’s borders, extending to all the places, embracing all the peoples.

I hope you are encouraged. I hope you are challenged. I hope you are reminded that you are not alone. This can be a hard gig, for sure, but you are not alone.

If this is your first time here or your thousandth, stick around, browse around, let us know what you think, how you’ve been helped, and what you’d love to see in the future. We’d absolutely love to hear from you!

 

With much love from Phnom Penh, Cambodia,
Jonathan Trotter

 

Third Culture Kids / Missionary Kids
10 Questions Missionary Kids Would Love to be Asked
10 Questions Missionary Kids Dread
To the Parents of Third Culture Kids
Funny Things Third Culture Kids Say
8 ways to help toddlers and young children cope with change and moving overseas
6 Permissions Most Missionaries’ Kids Need
An Open Letter to Parents of Missionary Kids
3 Ways to Care for the Heart of Your Third Culture Kid
10 Ways Teachers Can Support Third Culture Kids
Sexual Abuse on the Mission Field
3 Ways to Care for the Heart of Your Missionary Kid
My Kids Are Not Little Missionaries

 

Rest / Burnout / Self-Care
margin: the wasted space we desperately need
Please Stop Running
Ask A Counselor: How in the world can we do self-care when . . . ?
Living Well Abroad: 4 Areas to Consider
8 Ways for Expats Who Stay to Stay Well

 

Family / Marriage
Missionary Mommy Wars
A Christmas letter to parents, from a kid who doesn’t have any
Nine Ways to Save a Marriage
The Purpose of Marriage is Not to Make You Holy
Why “Did You Have Fun?” is the Wrong Question
Failing at Fatherhood (how moving abroad ruined my parenting)
When the Mission Field Hurts Your Marriage
Dear Single Missionary
I’m a missionary. Can I be a mom too?

 

Cross-cultural living & ministry
3 Kinds of Selfies You Should Never Take
Missionaries are supposed to suffer . . . So am I allowed to buy an air conditioner?
Introverts for Jesus: Surviving the Extrovert Mission Field
To My Expat Friends
What Did I Do Today? I Made a Copy. Woohoo!
The Teary Expat Mom, Shopping
One-Uppers
A Cautionary Tale: Expats & Expets (What not to do)
The Introverted Expat
5 Tips for Newbies About Relationships with Oldies (From an Oldie)
The Aim of Language Learning

 

Missiology
Please Don’t Say, “They Are Poor But They’re Happy.”
Let Me Make Your Kid a Buddhist
How to partner with a poor church without screwing everything up
Rice Christians and Fake Conversions
Responding to Beggars
10 Reasons You Should Be a Missionary
There’s no such thing as the “deserving poor”

 

Theology in Missions
The Idolatry of Missions
When the Straight & Narrow Isn’t
Rethinking the Christmas Story
But Are You Safe?
When Missionaries Starve
Why I Will Not Say “I Never Made a Sacrifice”
The Gaping Hole in the Modern Missions Movement {part 1}
Is Jesus a Liar?

 

Cautions
10 Reasons Not To Become a Missionary
In Defense of Second-Class Missionaries
The Cult of Calling
Want to see what a porn-addicted missionary looks like?
Telling My Story: Sexual Abuse on the Mission Field
When Missionaries Think They Know Everything
Visiting Home Might Not Be Everything You Dreamed
Misogyny in Missions
The Proverbs 32 Man
Stop Waiting for It All to Make Sense

 

Grief & Loss
Outlawed Grief, a Curse Disguised
When Friends Do the Next Right Thing
Ask a counselor: how do we process loss and grief?

 

Transition
What If I Fall Apart on the Mission Field?
Beyond Culture Shock: Culture Pain, Culture Stripping
Dear New Missionary
5 Mistakes I Made My First Year on the Mission Field
Why I Quit My Job as a Missionary to Scrub Toilets
Jet Lag and Heart Lag
When You Start to Pick Your Nose in Public…
You Remember You’re a Repat When . . .
Going Home

 

Short Term Missions
What to Do About Short Term Missions
Stop calling it “Short Term Missions.” Here’s what you should call it instead.
Your Short-Term Trips Have Not Prepared You For Long-Term Mission
The Mess of Short Term Missions

 

Relationships with those who send
A Letter to Christians Living in America from a Christian Living Abroad
Dear Supporter, There’s So Much More I Wish I Could Tell You
Staying connected with your family and friends when you live overseas
How to Encourage Your Overseas Worker
When Your Missionary Stories Aren’t Sexy
Facebook lies and other truths
Please Ask Me the Non-Spiritual Questions

 

If your favorite article didn’t make the list, put the title and link in the comments section and let us know why you love it. Thanks again for joining us here. Peace to you.

 

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Regarding Burnout (and some ideas for avoiding it)

Last year I flirted with burnout. I was camping out along its edges, and I didn’t even know it. Only after some conversations with my husband and with a spiritual director, did I recognize what was going on and how I’d been complicit in my own spiritual sickness.

These are the things I’m doing to carve out rest and Sabbath in my life and to move farther and farther away from burnout. I’m no expert, and this is by no means a comprehensive list. They’re just things that seem to be working in my life. Some are deceptively small and simple; others are larger and more extreme and took more courage to do.

[Note: This post contains the whats, not the whys. For some of the whys, you can read my husband’s articles Please Stop Running and margin: the wasted space we desperately need.]

 

1. In the midst of the chaos, choose to breathe.

God formed us from the dust and breathed the breath of life into us. There is life and peace in our breath. Why then do we go about our days neglecting this very curative gift God gave us?

In fact I’ve described breathing as a “free drug” before:

Some drugs are free.
Like breathing.
I love breathing. It’s my favorite.
I recently announced this to my kids.
Some of them thought I was crazy, but one agreed.
It’s true though. I just love breathing.
Pause.
Inhale, exhale.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Release, receive.
When I stop to close my eyes and breathe deeply and slowly, I immediately calm down.
My body relaxes.
My thoughts stop swirling.
My emotions stop pressing.
So take a deep breath. Maybe take three.
And remember, some drugs are free.
If only we will use them.

 

2. Open my hands in surrender.

Even better than simply taking some deep breaths is to sit in a quiet place, place my hands in my lap, and open them up to God. As I do so, I release my hurts and concerns to God. I give Him my frustrations and trust Him to keep all of them, because I’m too weak and tired to hold onto them anymore. I’m not as consistent in this practice as I want to be, but when I participate in this small act of surrender, it makes a huge difference in my day.

 

3. Grab hold of awe and wonder in ordinary moments and days.

I’m inspired by the idea of Ordinary Time, which I first read about in Kimberlee Conway Ireton’s The Circle of Seasons: Finding God in the Church Year. Ordinary Time encourages me to ask, “Where is the glory of God hiding in my life right now?”

If I can cultivate a sense of wonder and joy in the everyday things of Creation, then I find miraculous little moments hidden in my ordinary days. When I purposefully take the time to notice these things,

I can explore space-time with my son and delight in a sunset with my daughter.

I can drink in the clouds and rooftops from a 4th floor downtown city window.

I can breathe in the blue sky on my way to a dinner meeting.

I can be captivated by a bright yellow full moon.

I can delight in a downpour so strong the palm trees are engulfed in white gauze.

I can inhale the heavenly fragrance of the frangipani flower.

I can marvel at our daily game with gravity, at the blue-scattered sky, at a photosynthesizing palm tree.

I used to think I needed long periods of time away in order to truly rest. In truth, little mini-Sabbaths are often available to me. But they only happen if I’m willing to stop rushing around and pay attention.

 

4. Fast regularly from technology.

I fought this practice for a long time. I believe I have what is called a “soft addiction” when it comes to the internet. I go to it for comfort — though comfort can’t be found there — and I have a hard time turning it off when I’m tired or overwhelmed.

Last year I began by fasting from the internet during family vacations and team retreats. I was sensing God’s invitation to fast from technology on Sundays, but I ignored it for several months. When I finally started obeying a couple of months ago, Sundays suddenly became much more restorative. Now I read, sleep, or spend time with my husband on Sunday afternoons. My relationships are better, I’m more rested, and I avoid the “computer haze” that starts to set in after too much time zoning out in front of a screen. This practice makes me much better prepared for Monday.

Additionally I try to keep technology out of the bedroom on weeknights, turn off the screens by 9 pm, and keep the computer closed until after I’ve talked to God in the morning. I often pray for strength to resist the pull of work before I even get out of bed.

 

5. Get creative with Sabbath.

When you’re in ministry, Sundays are often too intense to be considered restful. But Sabbath doesn’t have to happen on Sundays, and it doesn’t have to be a full 24 hours, either. Creativity in carving out Sabbath is especially important if you have young children, and you may have to alternate childcare between parents and only take half days at a time.

My husband, for example, takes Wednesday mornings off. First he takes a child out to breakfast, and then he takes a few hours for his own Sabbath. After lunch he comes home to do office work so that I can get out to a coffee shop to work on my own creative projects. My Wednesday afternoons are not, strictly speaking, Sabbath, but they provide the space to write and think and be separated from the never-ending needs of our home. Too often last year, I let these precious pockets of time slip through my fingers, and I felt the strain. Now I try to guard them much more carefully.

 

6. Get brave and quit something.

This took me a long time to do. I could not bring myself to quit any of the ministry activities I had committed myself to. I thought each and every one of them was essential and all-important, and I was afraid I would let people down if I quit. But in the end I realized I was so overloaded I had to do it — and it really was hard to do. I had to accept both that the ministry would go on without me and that my identity wasn’t tied up in those particular ministries.

But getting brave and quitting things isn’t just about ministry. It’s about social gatherings too. Where I live, there are so many invitations. So many good things to do. And so much fear of missing out — on community, on friendship, on educational and recreational opportunities. It’s still hard to say no and miss out on wonderful opportunities, whether they’re for myself or my children. But I simply can’t do everything, and I’m getting more comfortable with the fact.

 

7. Participate in regular confession, repentance, and worship.

Tears cleanse the soul and make space for God. I don’t know why this is true — and I almost wish it weren’t — but it is, and it’s the way God has designed us. We are created to humble ourselves before Him and others and admit we are wrong.

When I’m running too fast and seeking solace in false comforts, my heart hardens, my tears dry up, and I become deaf to the voice of God. But I find rest for my soul in confession, repentance, and tears. My most recent experience of this was at an Ash Wednesday service, but I’ve told similar stories in Angry, Mean, and Redeemed and When Your Husband Calls You a Shell of a Woman.

 

8. Be faithful in caring for body and soul.

Last year I knew I was distant from God and that I wasn’t taking care of my body. Why is it that when I’m too busy, the first things to go are exercise and time with God? Those are the things I need the most. But in times of stress, it’s all too easy to sleep in and skip talking to God altogether, or to get up and start working during that sacred morning hour instead. And when I’m tired, it’s all too easy to eat junk food, watch Netflix, and skip exercising. But after I started cutting stuff out of my life, it became easier to stress-eat less, to exercise more, and to approach God more honestly and more consistently.

I like to call these things “soul care” and “body care,” because even after all the “self-care” propaganda we have, that term still sounds selfish to me (and a lot of other women I talk to). But soul care and body care? That’s worship. That’s stewardship. It’s taking the soul God gave me, and reconnecting it to its Creator. It’s taking the body God gave me, and moving it and nourishing it so it can feel better and give more. So don’t forget to take care of your soul and your body.

 

9. Seek counseling or other outside help.

At the beginning of this post I mentioned my meetings with a spiritual director. I knew 2016 had been brutal; I just didn’t know why. My counseling sessions helped to pinpoint the motivations behind some of my poor choices and prompted me to begin to making better choices. We missionaries can be really “driven,” unhealthy people sometimes, and counseling can help us figure out both why we are so driven and how to move forward in health.

 

10. And finally, take a longer break.

Sometimes you need a longer time away from regular life. After taking pretty much no breaks during our first term, our family now takes a two-week Sabbatical in the middle of each two-year term. This extended time is for getting into nature, getting away from work and technology, nurturing our family relationships, and getting debriefing or counseling.

I know it’s not always feasible to get away for longer periods of time, but if you can, it’s great preventive medicine. And if you find yourself drained so low that you can’t continue living life the way it is, taking a longer break may be more of an emergency measure. Just don’t be afraid to take that step.

 

What about you? How do you find rest for your soul?

–

Further reading:

Crazy Busy: A (Mercifully) Short Book About a (Really) Big Problem by Kevin DeYoung

Leading on Empty: Refilling Your Tank and Renewing Your Passion by Wayne Cordeiro

Let me tell you about Kassiah Jones

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This month my husband and I took our kids to the local home school co-op’s spring performance. Some of our friends were in the play. It was called “The Race” and was an original play based loosely on the story of “The Tortoise and the Hare.”

Every character in this play was modeled after an animal. There was a bear and a sparrow and a fennec fox (among others), but the character that most captured my attention was the character modeled after the ant. Her name was Kassiah Jones, and she never knew when to quit.

When it was time for the village inhabitants to prepare for the annual race, Kassiah trained harder than all the rest. She worked hard and never knew when to stop.

On race day Kassiah was in the lead, far ahead of the others, for the first three laps. But on the fourth lap she didn’t come back around the curtain with the rest of the runners. At the end of the race, after somebody else had won, the villagers went in search of her. They found her, collapsed from exhaustion, and had to carry her out on a stretcher.

I so identified with Kassiah Jones. I work, work, work, and never take a break. I know I need to. But I forget.

The week I attended “The Race” was, to be honest, brutal. We’d gone three days without refrigeration and had lost the entire contents of our fridge to Cambodia’s hot season. We’d gone a couple days with a puking child and half a night’s power outage with said puking child. I got to the end of that week completely exhausted and out of sorts.

So that Friday I took the first of what I’m now calling a “Kassiah Jones Day.” I canceled home school. I played games with my kids. We watched sciences videos in the air conditioning. I read more than usual to them. I’m with them all the time, but I don’t always share enjoyable activities with them. Instead I focus on finishing our lessons, and then in my “free time,” I work.

But I now have a vocabulary for what my soul needs and for the way I’d been treating it. I have a symbol, a simple phrase that encompasses a world of meaning for me. It’s true I forget to Sabbath. It’s true I forget to breathe. It’s true that all too often, I am Kassiah Jones.

But I think that needs to start changing, and I think I know just how to try.

~~In honor of Kassiah Jones, I’m keeping this blog post short.~~

~~When was the last time you took a Kassiah Jones Day?~~