Through Burnout and Back: Getting Preached At

I have found during this episode of dealing with burnout I suffer from peaks and valleys.  I never know when one of those peaks will occur or when one of those valleys will hit.

Yesterday morning, before worship, I found myself in a valley.  It was unpleasant to say the least.  In 12 years, I have never not looked forward to preaching.  I love proclaiming God's Word.  It's one of my favorite parts of my calling, but yesterday, I almost dreaded getting in front of my congregation and preaching.  I looked my sermon over and felt, "blah." 

Yet, I know I must continue to preach.  I know I must continue to do what God has called me to do.  Worship must go on.  God's Word must be proclaimed.  I found some consolation in St. Paul's own admission in 1 Corinthians 12:9-10: ⁹but he [God] said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. ¹⁰Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

I headed to the sanctuary and set up for worship.  I then stood at the door and greeted people as they walked in.  For almost eight years, I have preached the Gospel to these people.  For the first time, I had little energy to do so.

And then Margie walked in.  (I have permission to tell this part.)  A couple of months ago, I did Margie's mother's funeral.  It was a touching ceremony for a kind, saintly woman.  Margie walked right up to me, told me, "You need a hug."  She hugged me and then spoke, "As mother would say, 'It'll get better.'"

The only thing that prevented me from breaking down and crying at that point was the fact the service was starting in just a few seconds.  The words hit me and brought healing and comfort in the midst of my morning.  They were exactly the right words at the right time in the right place.  Without even knowing it, Margie had preached at me, and her sermon found the mark.

I spoke last time about not wanting sympathy, and I don't.  Margie's words hearkened me back to Thekla's granddaughter who at the funeral spoke about how frustrating it was that "Wa" would never get upset at things that would happen; would never give any sort of sense of sympathy; would never commiserate in your misery; but she would just say, "It will get better."  For Thekla, it was a statement of faith, and that statement of faith was passed down to her daughter Margie.  And Margie passed it on to me.  The community of saints at work.  Bringing healing where it is needed.

I had no problems preaching for that first service or the second one a little later in the morning.  God provided me with exactly what I needed so that I could proclaim His Word.  I have no doubt He will continue to provide.  After proclaiming the Gospel to my congregation for eight years, they are preaching it right back, and I know, "It will get better."