So far in this series, I have shared how personal holiness and surrender have kept me spiritually alive throughout my ministry. Let me now make my case and offer specific notions which I pray might have at least some hints of wisdom. 

Spiritual, emotional, and relational growth takes time and energy. It requires discipline. It diverts us from “pastoral duties” which will eat us alive if we don’t keep perspective. When we start in ministry, we’re enthusiastic for God and we want nothing more than to be sterling men and women of God. Whether it’s due to our seminary training, or ecclesiastical machinery, or competition among pastors, early on we’re tempted to become increasingly preoccupied with success. We start climbing the ladder, looking for a bigger church, a bigger salary, and greater recognition. 

Later in ministry, we realize how we’ve strayed. It’s not that we have ignored spiritual growth and character completely, but we’ve not had the time or inclination to concern ourselves with it.

Somewhere along the way, most of us wake up to the fact that we have not kept perspective. If we have not forsaken our first love, we certainly have not kept that love alive. We’ve not given it first place.

Why Character Matters More Than Leadership Skills

Unfortunately, many of us are in our forties and fifties before we come to this realization. Here, then, is my first assertion: All the permanent fruit and progress that result from our leadership are based on strong character. Let me say that again: All the permanent fruit and progress that result from our leadership are based on strong character. Who we are is more crucial than what we do. That is a part of why McCheyne’s word which I quoted earlier is so important. “The greatest need of my congregation is my own personal holiness.” 

Now here is a shocking fact: our ministry has the potential of handicapping character. Although the average parishioner thinks being a pastor makes it easier to grow character, we know otherwise. Vocational ministry can dry and stiffen the red, tacky earth of the human spirit for several reasons. Note some of these.

Common Obstacles to Pastoral Spiritual Growth

For one, the need for job security. It arises from the good and natural inclination to provide for our families.  How much of our ministry, the tone and direction of our ministry, is shaped by this need? Congregations can be fickle. Staff/Parish Relations Committees can be unrealistic and demanding. Too many churches demand far more of their leader than is possible. 

Without conscious awareness, this need for job security does affect significantly how we do ministry – it certainly impacts the prophetic edge of our ministry. I remember an occasion early in my ministry, during the racial upheavals in Mississippi in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. I had taken a clear stand with the Civil Rights movement, which brought me into direct conflict with many folks in the church. At one point, the leaders held a special board meeting to confront the issue – some supporting and others opposing me.

After the meeting had gone on for some time, one opponent who wielded substantial power in the church, asked, “Well, Maxie, what can we expect of you in the future?”

It had to be the Spirit working within me. I heard myself saying, “You can expect me to be consistent with what I feel the Gospel is calling me to do.” 

I wish I could claim that I have always been that clear in my convictions, and always that strong. It simply hasn’t been the case. All of us – when we are honest – probably would confess that our need for job security has shaped our ministry. And that becomes a handicap for character-building.

Akin to this is a second reality – that is the frequent moves of pastors from one congregation to another. The facts are astounding, really. When we are constantly on the move, moving from one congregation to another every two or three or four years, we don’t have the opportunity to clarify troubling issues or work through recurring problems in our own personhood and character. 

High and unrealistic expectations are another hindrance. I remember a story about a woman who approached the great Scots preaching Alexander Whyte, complimented him profusely, and said, “Oh, Dr. Whyte, if I could just be as saintly as you are!” 

“Madam,” he replied, “If you could see into my heart, you would spit in my face.”

We may fear that if people discover who we really are, we’re finished, or at a minimum, our credibility and influence will wane. The human reflex is to hide, put on a mask. Hypocrisy is the greatest temptation of religious professionals. 

The opposite of high expectations is another hindrance – stereotyping. Some people don’t want us to be real saints. Those who by word and deed call people to more Christlike behavior. They want us to be merely nice, fulfilling our role with reasonable skill and efficiency. Under that expectation, it’s easy to become complacent. Instead of striving to become all that Christ calls us to be, we simply do what is expected of us: regular hospital calls, decent sermons, warm blessings at women’s groups. Ministry may certainly be that much – but it is not only that much – it’s far more.

Though Les and Leslie Parrott are dealing with this next issue, I have to register it. Family pressures can really handicap character – and can play a significant role in our quest for holiness. Family pressures aren’t unique to a minister’s family, but they are exacerbated by the pressures of ministry. We must pay close attention to our families and how we grow in relation to each other within the family.

Preventing Burnout in Ministry Through Spiritual Self-Examination

The big point I want to make is that we need to be aware of the fact that our professional ministry has dimensions that thwart character development and growth in holiness. We can deal with the temptations that come with our vocation by continually asking ourselves questions like these:

1. Am I resisting image-building by living as transparently as possible.

2. Am I dealing with the self-deceit that comes from the applause of others?

3. Am I keeping my calling clear, resisting both the temptation for security and a competitive spirit?

4. Am I defensive when asked questions about the use of my time and the consistency of my spiritual disciplines?

5. Am I blaming others for things that are my own fault and the result of my own choices?

Let me restate the claim. “All the permanent fruit and progress that result from our leadership are based on strong character.”

In my last article, I took the long way around to getting to where I really want to be in my sharing with you. Often the Holy Spirit speaks to us in some very personal way to lift us out of discouragement – but not only so, calls us to make an on-course adjustment in our pattern of life and ministry.

I don’t know who Thomas Fuller is, but I owe him an enthusiastic expression of gratitude. He provided a warning that has become a kind of motto for me. I came upon it about eight months before I accepted the presidency of Asbury Seminary. Here is his word: “Let not thy will roar, when thy power can but whisper.”

Let that register solidly in your mind: “Let not thy will roar when thy power can but whisper.” I discovered that statement in my devotional reading in May of 1993. Putting a date on it has meaning. With that in mind, let me share a confession that will put it in perspective and signify why that admonition is so meaningful to me.

From Poverty to Perfectionism

I grew up in rather severe poverty in Perry County, Mississippi. My mother and father did not go to high school. I felt myself culturally, socially, and intellectually, as well as emotionally, deprived. In reaction to that I developed an almost sick determination to achieve. To get out of that situation, to be a success. So I’ve spent a great part of my life driving myself unmercifully. The game I have played through the years is this: “See here, I am worthy of your love and acceptance.”

Throughout my life, until a few years ago, I had a recurring dream. I’m sure some of you can identify with this. The recurring dream expressed itself in different ways, but always there was the same dynamic. The setting was that I had to be somewhere to preach. It all centered in my deep feelings of inferiority, my inadequacy, and my drive to be an excellent preacher. So in my dream I would need to be somewhere to preach.

Sometimes I would be at home; the service of worship was to begin in ten minutes and I would be struggling to button the collar of my shirt, unable to do so, knowing that I was running out of time. Or, I wouldn’t be able to tie my tie. Or I might discover that the cleaner had mixed up my clothing and I would put on a pair of pants and find the coat didn’t match. Or even discover that the pants might be three or four inches too short. Or that I couldn’t button them around my waist – things that would be preventing me from getting to the church in time to preach.

The dream expressed itself in all sorts of ways which demonstrated my struggle, my fighting, the pressure and the stress, the drivenness of my life – all circling around my own feelings of inadequacy and unpreparedness, as well as the limitations of my past – yet with the drive for perfection.

Interpreting Anxiety Dreams in Ministry and Leadership

Well, I had not had that dream for a long, long time; in fact, for many years. But it happened again on Tuesday night, July 27th, 1993. I recorded that date in my journal. I felt as though the dream went on all night long. When I woke at five o’clock in the morning, I was in a sweat and I was worn out. There was no logic to the dream and the sequence made no sense. Again, it was the same old thing. I had to preach at a great convention attended by a lot of people. I had not had time to make the kind of preparation I’m committed to making; I was just too busy. I kept saying to myself, “Well, undoubtedly, I’ll get some time and I can put something together.” But time was not given and the evening for my speaking came. I threw some sermon manuscripts into a file. Now listen to this. I believe that different things in our dreams have special meaning. I put the sermons into the kind of file my wife uses for domestic work – an accordion-type file, usually brown, with ten or twelve compartments. The lesson? I need to be more dependent upon Jerry. We need to accept the care of those who love us and admit our need for that care. 

I put all the sermons and notes in that file, jumped into my car, and headed for the convention hall. I got there 15 minutes before it was time to preach and I knew I had to be by myself and get some notes ready for my speaking. I went into the first door that was available and found myself in a kind of canteen. There were chairs and tables and a counter. I sat down at a table and I began to go through the file and find something I could use that night. 

I suddenly became aware that there were three women seated at a table in the room. I don’t know where they came from, but there they were. One of them brought me a glass of milk. It was a beautiful gesture. The lesson? Life is not a competitive battle. We’re all gifted. We don’t have to constantly prove ourselves. We can’t live independently; we need each other.

Then I became aware that there were four men sitting at a table over in a corner of the room. One of them looked at me, recognized me, came over immediately, and introduced himself as a minister. He told me he had been reading all of my books and using them in his church and how much he appreciated my ministry. Instead of saying to him, “Look, why don’t we have some time together after the service tonight?” I was very rude. I cut him off with some angry words about being interrupted. The lesson: we can become so frazzled that we cannot perceive opportunities to give and receive love, so involved that we can’t discern priority issues.

In desperation, I returned to my effort to find something to say. Then it was time – time to go on. I grabbed some notes and started to leave the room and go to the podium. I had on a freshly starched white shirt and my best suit – so I thought. The truth was I had on my coat, but I looked down and discovered I was wearing the pants of a jogging suit. The dream ended.

Spiritual Surrender: Let Not Thy Will Roar When Thy Power Can But Whisper

I went to my study for my morning time of prayer after that dream, having received a message from God, a message to surrender, to let go. In retrospect, I knew why I had had that dream. I was the Chair of the Committee on Evangelism for the World Methodist Council, and I was supposed to leave that coming Sunday to visit our congregations in the Czech Republic, to speak at a conference in Estonia, and to visit a congregation in Russia. I was also chairing the Board of Trustees and the search committee to find a new president for Asbury Theological Seminary. That process was just getting underway and was a huge responsibility. I was working on a book manuscript which had a deadline four weeks later. A lot of things were going on in the life of our church, Christ United Methodist in Memphis. We were growing and expanding in so many ways, adding new staff and planning a building expansion. The opportunities for ministry were almost overwhelming. On top of all that, my mother had had a stroke the Sunday afternoon preceding the dream.

So God was speaking to me again, and on that Wednesday morning I renewed my commitment to the Lord. The word from Thomas Fuller, which I had underscored in a book I had been using in my devotional time, and which had been God’s word for me, came alive. If it didn’t hint at irreverence, I would say, “The word became flesh.” “Let not your will roar, when thy power can but whisper.”

I yielded to him, I let go and I let God. I canceled my trip to Russia. I said to the Lord that I was going to do my best and be a responsible chairperson for the search committee at Asbury, but I was not going to get all stressed out about it. Some folks may be wondering about all that, since I became the president. That’s another story altogether. I accepted the fact that it would not be catastrophic if I missed my book deadline and I committed my mother to the Lord. I would continue to be the best leader I could for my congregation, but I was not going to carry the weight of it on my shoulders. God doesn’t intend that for any one of us.

So I surrendered. I realized again how limited I am and how dependent I am upon the Lord; how yielded I must be to Him if His power is going to be perfected in my weakness. The line that I had marked in my devotional reading a few days before had been made powerfully alive by my dream; “Let not your will roar when your power can but whisper.” 

Finding Strength in Weakness: Lessons for Christian Leaders

Now here’s the kicker. A year after that dream, I became the President of Asbury Theological Seminary. I accepted that call kicking and screaming, because I became convinced that it was God’s will for this particular season of my life.

How many times during my first years at Asbury did I recall that dream – and that word of the Lord from Thomas Fuller, which was connected with that dream: “Let not your will roar when your power can but whisper.”

Dreams sometimes lead where you had not intended to go. Where do you need to surrender? Where might your power yield to the Holy Spirit’s roar?

There are some experiences or encounters that are so solidly lodged in our memory they continue to invade our consciousness – to haunt us – to help us or to hinder our Christian walk, to call and challenge us to be more than we are. 

John Birkbeck is a person around whom for me a whole cluster of memories is gathered – memories that invade my immediate awareness now and then. John was a Scot Presbyterian preacher. During a part of my tenure as the World Editor of The Upper Room, he was the editor of the British edition of The Upper Room. He was a marvelous preacher in the classic style of the Scot divines.

I remember long walks in the evenings through the streets of Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Aberdeen. I remember extended hours across a table in a café over coffee – talking and talking and listening and listening. We were never together without my probing him about Christian doctrine, his own insight into Biblical truth and preaching, and the wisdom of the Scot divines. It was John who introduced me to the Scots preacher Robert Murray McCheyne. I hope I will never forget what John brought to my attention in one of McCheyne’s books. Listen to it: “The greatest need of my congregation is my own personal holiness.”

The Role of Personal Holiness in Effective Ministry Leadership

I want to lodge that solidly in all our minds. I found it true in all my years of pastoral ministry, “The greatest need of my congregation is my own personal holiness.” 

I remember a time in my life back in the early ‘60s when I was confronted with this shocking fact: I am as holy as I want to be. I was a young Methodist preacher in Mississippi. I was the organizing pastor of a congregation which had known amazing growth. It was also in the midst of the Civil Rights upheaval in the South – and Mississippi, of course, was a constant powder-keg. The church was a kind of Cinderella story – a dramatic demonstration of church growth. It became one of the success stories of Mississippi Methodism.

Overcoming Pastor Burnout and Spiritual Exhaustion

Back during those days there was no church growth literature. There was no testing of persons to see if they would make good candidates for church planting. We did it intuitively, by the “seat of our pants” as we would say down in Perry County, Mississippi. I worked myself to the bone. I was worn out physically and emotionally. I kept asking myself a lot of questions – “What is the difference between this congregation and the Rotary Club? Is there a quality of life here that is not present wherever people meet together? Why is it that most of these people have the same ideas about race relations that people outside the church have?” And on and on the questions went. 

It was a tough time and the fellowship of the church was splintered by my involvement in the Civil Rights movement. I didn’t think there was anything radical about my involvement, but many folks in the church could not understand my commitment and participation. I couldn’t understand their lack of understanding. The Gospel seemed rather clear.

The pressure, stress, and tension wore me out. I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted, and ready to throw in the towel – even had thoughts about giving up the ministry. My resources were no longer adequate. Then, one of those God things happened – you know the kind of experience I’m talking about – a signal occasion that sets us on another path or at least sends us in a different direction than we had been going.

I went to a week-long retreat/conference, a Christian Ashram, led by the world-famous missionary/evangelist E. Stanley Jones. I will never forget going to the altar one evening, to have Brother Stanley lay hands on and pray for me. He knew my story – we had shared together during the week. As I knelt, he asked me the probing question: “Do you want to be whole? Do you want to be holy?”

That was a signal sanctifying experience in my life, changing forever the direction of my ministry. Through the years since, I have constantly asked myself: Do I want to be holy? and I have constantly reminded myself that I am as holy as I want to be.

How to Manage Discouragement in Ministry

I want you to keep that tucked away in the back of your mind as I share with you about personal growth. My overall theme is “Staying Alive All Your Ministry Life.” An overarching question is, “Will you finish well?” 

I’m at the age when I can look back and plot the zigzag course of my journey and hopefully share a bit of wisdom for those who are beginning, as well as for those who have been at it for a while and have made the saving discovery that our calling and our performance in ministry require on-course adjustments all along the way. Let me illustrate by addressing just one area of ministry life – the fact that the very nature of our work makes us vulnerable to drastic moods, and one of our disciplined responses to life must be the master of our moods. 

Consider one of the most common moods: discouragement. Anybody know anything about that? Of course you do. I want you to know that it manifests itself in the greatest of leaders. You remember Moses. At one time he would express his willingness to die for his people. Listen to him as he speaks to the Lord in Exodus 32:31-32: “Oh, what a great sin these people have committed! They have made themselves gods of gold, but now, please forgive their sins – but if not, then blot me out of the book You have written.” That’s the same person – willing to die for his people – who at another time wanted to die in order to get away from them. Listen to him in Numbers 11:11-15: 

Again he’s speaking to the Lord: “ Why have you brought this trouble on your servant? What have I done to displease you that you put the burden of all these people on me? Did I conceive all these people? Did I give them birth? Why do you tell me to carry them in my arms, as a nurse carries an infant, to the land you promised on oath to their forefathers? Where can I get meat for all these people? They keep wailing to me, ‘Give us meat to eat!’ I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me. If this is how you’re going to treat me, put me to death right now.” 

It’s true, isn’t it – that we whose ministry involves seeking to lift others, and keep their eyes focused on “higher things,” have our turn trying to conquer the destructive moods in our own life. Moffatt has a wonderful translation of Job 4:3-5, which describes our situation: “You have yourself set many right, and put strength into feeble souls; your words have kept men on their feet, the weak-kneed you have nerved. But now that your turn has come, you droop; it touches you close and you collapse.” We know about that, don’t we? 

Biblical Strategies for Sustainable Ministry

I’m using this only as an illustration to get to a personal confession – but since I’ve raised the whole issue of discouragement, let me offer two hurried suggestions that may help us triumph over the deadly mood of discouragement. First, we need to recognize that the mood of discouragement is often the psychological reaction to extreme mental and physical fatigue. When you’re seeking to deal with discouragement, be sure that you are adequately rested. Second, discouragement often results from an impractical idealism, an illogical attempt at perfectionistic activity. Now, I know about that. You will be hard-pressed to find a more optimistic, idealistic person. How often have I had to cry out, “Oh, hopeless idealist that I am: who will deliver me from the bondage of believing that in this life all ideals can become realities!” 

We need to constantly make a valid distinction between a philosophical idealism and moral responsibility. Just because we know all that can be done, and just because we desperately want to do it, does not necessarily mean that we have to do it. Sometimes doing what we see needs to be done may transcend our human capacity – particularly when other human beings are involved.

The greatest need is your own personal holiness. Be encouraged. It is God who sustains. You are not alone, the Holy Spirit comes alongside in a very personal way to guide us. Seek His rest and consolation. Sanctification and encouragement will follow.