navigating Grief –
an unlikely invitation

“In ministry, there is so much experience of loss, so much unprocessed grief,
and when you combine that with the unhealthy pace of entrepreneurs,
it is only a matter of time until everything explodes.”

This is a quote from a conversation I had this past April with Joy Kirkland, a Counselor & Trauma Care Specialist in Athens. Back then, I was probing into the idea of starting the “Quiet Heart Journey”, of helping leaders unpack what’s really going on inside and encounter God in profound new ways. At the end of this conversation, I knew this journey wasn’t optional.

It is essential.

Let’s go back to three years prior to this conversation and meet the 2021 version of me. I had just entered the 8th year of leading my church. And man, did I know about grief in ministry! Every year of church planting had been really hard for me. Every year anew, I started with great hope that this could be the year when we finally would see the church grow and flourish, yet every year anew another challenge and disappointment hit: one year, a key leader would “stab me in the back” in a big members meeting, causing an explosion of emotions and leading to months of repair work for me to get people back on track. Another year, one of my best friends would abruptly decide to go back to our mother church because he wasn’t satisfied with what our church had to offer, playing right into my deep-seated insecurity of the mother church always being “better” than our church anyway. Be it intense conflict with a staff member or tension within the church over various issues – it just did not stop!

BECOMING NUMB

Now I would say it is objectively true that my church planting experience was quite challenging and that the ride could’ve been much smoother. What is also true, however, is that at some point every disappointment felt like a massive blow, and even the slightest hint of criticism felt like betrayal. In one sense, I felt like walking from pain point to pain point, never really content, never feeling safe. In another, I didn’t really feel anything at all anymore. I had gone numb – at least a little bit, pushing forward with the hope that someday God would somehow see his long-suffering servant and finally vindicate me.

So, I kept pushing on. More oftentimes than not, I would get up in the morning with this weird mix of energy and anxiety rushing through my veins, and it kept me going until I was back on the couch at 11.30 pm, binging a show and trying to calm myself down so I could go to sleep. The statement above sums it up well: there was so much unprocessed grief. I had such an unhealthy pace. I did not know what was driving me. And I did not realize that the underlying mix of sadness, anxiety, and drivenness was an invitation by God to slow down. To finally take the journey inward.

In her book “Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership,” Ruth Haley Barton follows the footsteps of Moses as God forms him as a leader. In one of the chapters, she wrestles with Moses’ final chapter, the moment we believe must’ve been a massive disappointment for him: that he wasn’t allowed to enter the Promised Land. And then, she writes this –

“I have read and reread the book of Deuteronomy looking for some evidence of an inner struggle, some indication that Moses argued with God one more time on the side of that mountain. One thing we can feel pretty certain about is that if Moses felt like arguing, he probably would have! But I don't think he did. It is as if everything Moses had gone through had prepared him for this moment. Whatever letting go he had done in order to leave the house of Pharaoh to find God – and himself – in the wilderness prepared him for this final letting go. Settling down by the well in Midian and being content to be a soul in God's presence had prepared him to sit on the side of this mountain content, once again, to be a soul in God's presence. He no longer needed any role or responsibility or task to define him.”

Being content to (just) be a soul in God’s presence. Can you imagine that? 

Over the past few years, I have gotten a glimpse of what that could be and feel like. It is an ongoing journey, of course, but it is like night and day compared to where I was three years ago. And interestingly enough, that unprocessed grief was a key piece of getting here. CS Lewis says that pain is “God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” We could also say: pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf, driven church planter.

It took me a whole Sabbatical to unpack some of the grief I was walking around with, but at the bottom of it, I found a God who was more interested in me than in my church plant. Who didn’t need me to function so others can be saved, but whose heart’s desire is for me to become fully alive. A soul content in God’s presence – that, in turn, will shine more brightly than any sermon or outreach program my hustle could ever create. 

AN INVITATION TO SOMETHING MUCH BETTER

SPREADING LIFE OR DEATH

So yes, Joy’s quote is a warning: Unless we take time to process our emotions, to slow down enough to let our heart catch up with our pace, to allow your wounds to get some air and your heart to be filled with joy over beauty and the goodness of God and life, our ministry really is an explosive mix ready to blow up at any moment … be it by driving ourselves to burnout, becoming a dangerous person to be around, or slipping up in one way or another. This isn’t a nice-to-have part of your to-do list, or a sign of slacking or weakness if you prioritize it. This is the difference between becoming a life-sucking or a life-giving leader. If you are well, you will lead well. If you are unwell, you will spread death – and not just to others, you will be killing yourself in the process.

But even more so, it is an invitation. A different life is possible. A different kind of ministry is possible. God has a much better “promised land” available to us than the “flourishing church plant” we might be dreaming about: We can experience His loving presence with us. And grief might be His way to help us let go – if we slow down enough to pay attention. Will you, even today, respond to that invitation?

WHERE TO START

  • Take a moment right now to schedule some time away sometime soon. Take at least an afternoon off, turn off your phone (or even better: leave it at home), go walk in nature, or retreat to a place where you can’t be found.

  • Once there, give your soul a few hours to breathe. Write down what you’re thinking and feeling. Let some of the pain, anger, and sadness come up and come out. Tell God how you’re really doing – you as a human being, not as a church planter. Screaming helps. Crying is also great.

  • If you want some more guidance, email me to receive the questions I work through myself on an afternoon like that; for a longer retreat, use these instructions from Ruth Haley Barton’s book “Invitation to Retreat”.

  • If you want help in processing your experience afterward, please send me an email and we can schedule a call. I would be honored to help you unpack what happened (or didn’t happen).