If you go back and read some of my early blogs (starting with November ‘06), you’ll find the recurring theme of loneliness. I wrote about my struggles with being alone in the truck for hours at a time, no one to talk to, and only fleeting glimpses of people who speed past my big orange “elephant.” This was a completely new phenomenon for me; I had never felt loneliness (except maybe as a kid during my first few days at Short Mountain Camp).
There were days during the first month of driving when I literally cried my way from Memphis to the eastern seaboard. I was away from the security and familiarity of home, family and friends. It was tougher than I could have imagined. You can sense the struggles in those early blogs.
Sometime in December when I mentioned those struggles to my friend, Ron Cook, he empathized right away. In fact, he was going through something similar at the time, as was a mutual friend who, like Ron and me, had recently left professional ministry. Strange similarities. Ron gave me a book he had been reading entitled, “Isolation: a place of transformation in the life of a leader” by Shelley Trebesch. This book put my experiences associated with loneliness in a new light.
I learned that isolation can be like a “desert experience” when one is stripped of all the false props of life and left face-to-face with God. The false prop that gave Ron, my friend and me purpose and meaning was ministry. Specifically, the prop was performance which is the bedrock of professional ministry (perhaps in your line of work as well). Ministers receive a lot of accolades and praise. People love us. They think we know it all and tell us regularly. We are esteemed more highly than we should be, and in no uncertain terms, we are elevated to a status above everyone else in the congregation. After a while, we begin to believe all the hype and try even all the harder to prove ourselves. We work longer hours, create more new programs, and generally bask in the warmth of our “well deserved” fame. We actually begin to believe that we have created this for ourselves, and forget that God alone is responsible for whatever degree our ministry is successful.
Then, when for whatever reason our situation changes and we no longer receive the regular doses of flattery, we crash. Trebesch puts it this way:
Since affirmation can not come in an isolation experience from achievement, it must come through beingness. It is this drawing out of one’s beingness that is a paradigm shift that most leaders (who are) used to plaudets from achievement struggle with in isolation.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was actually detoxing from ministry! During those first months as a new truck driver, I was coming down from the mountain of achievement, flattery, performance, praise, professionalism and more. It was difficult, but it made me realize that all I really need is God. Says Trebesch: “A paradigm shift is a major shaping activity used by God to give breakthroughs in a leader’s life. It is a major change in perspective that revolutionizes how a leader sees something.”
What I began to see is how dependent, debilitated and immobilized ministry can make one. Professional ministry puts one at the mercy of church leaders and congregants and less free to respond only to God. It plunges men and women into the pit of relying on effective performance and praise for happiness and purpose. Instead of deepening one’s reliance on God alone, it actually increases the distance between the minister and God.
Now, here’s something more startling: The same thing can happen in the life of the “ordinary” person in the pew. Church work or religion or church membership or whatever you want to call it can have the same effects on non-clergy. Church members begin to see programs, committe membership, attendance, good works and more as their god. They begin to rely on these things for their identity and even salvation rather than seeing God as the giver of meaning, purpose and life. Church members even vehemently protect the system at the expense of meaningful relationships with those who are not a part of their sacred community. Well, that’s a subject for future discussion.
The point is: what I went through for the first months of my new vocation brought me to my knees, and ultimately to my senses. The Father is all I need. I am learning to be comfortable alone. I am finding purpose apart from personal achievement and public praise. I am finding new ways to converse with God..new ears to hear his voice. New means of living for him and with him. And I have never felt freer!
Have you been to the desert? Care to tell us about it?
Jayne Satterfield-Osburn said
What you are describing is dead on correct! I went through this several years ago and it was so painful. I felt guilty for not “being involved” whatever that was supposed to mean in enough “good works.” I withdrew because of a personal crisis. I felt I had no choice. Quickly, I felt lonely, abandoned and betrayed. Over time, I realized this desert I was in was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. It freed me from guilt driven works of service to a more God-filled existence. Some would call it a spiritual breakthrough. I don’t know if that fits the definition, but I finally began to understand and appreciate my relationship with Him on a new, more personal and intimate level. I had been judgmental of others who were not involved in some of those programs you mentioned. I learned that I had been the one guilty of judgment and exclusion. It helped me to love and appreciate the fact that there are those who live with God in the shadows in a daily walk that I may never see as opposed to an organized way where they are fully recognized. That does’t mean the ones who organize programs are faulty. It just opened my eyes to the fact that God dwells within us and grows us in His own mysterious ways. I learned the abundance and truth of the saying, “You learn that God is all you need, when he is all that you have.”
Steve Holt Sr. said
Thanks for that honest admission, Jayne.
Without judging others, I can’t understand how one maintains a total-God-dependent life without some type of desert experience. Even Jesus needed one early in his ministry. I truly believe one of the most effective tools in Satan’s arsenal is “churchianity,” that creates weak and dependent “believers” who rely on the institution to give their “faith” meaning.
I would really like to hear from others on this subject…
Susan said
I have always thought that it would be so hard to be a minister (not because o the ministering to the needs of others) but because there are so many members of the church who don’t participate in the planned activites and programs that the leaders put together. Seems like the non-participation would be frustrating and even discourging to the ones who planned and presented it to the members. Then I would (and do) feel guilty when I am one of the ones who decides not to help or participate. I understand the “total-God-dependent life” and strive for and pray for that very relationship but the guilt of not “doing” enough (especially in the church setting) is still there.
Jon J said
It’s part of our culture to get your sense of self worth from “what you do”. When that is taken away or given away, it can be quite traumatic. I worked in Guatemala as a medical missionary from 1979-1981. I was home for a visit when a call came in that our group was evacuating. The fighting between the military and the guerillas had intensified in our area until it was considered unsafe to remain. Up until that time I believed I was doing exacly what God wanted me to be doing. I lost my work, my home, my family and my “purpose” with one phone call.
Over time I have worked trying to get my inner self to realize that all I need is God. This is a very hard task in a world that tries to tell us otherwise.
I’m having a really hard time with the changes that Highland is going through. It has been part of my identity for about 30 years. In coping with this I’m working on the fact that God does not change.