In April 2014, a good friend and former pastor of ours
committed suicide. The shocking news came about a week before we went back to
Zambia, and we were barely able to process it before getting on the plane to
head back into the trenches of full-time ministry in Africa.
Ministry can be hard. Isolating even. Though you serve so
many, you can only be real and safe with a precious few. You’re the missionary,
the pastor, the Bible study leader. You’re the called, the qualified, the one
with all the answers, and the one with it
all together.
You’re not, of course, but that’s the expectation we put on
ourselves. So when the hard stuff piles up and you start to feel lonely and
overwhelmed, where do you go?
Yes, the simple answer is “to God.” I mean, those of us in
ministry have a direct channel to our Lord and King, right? It is absolutely
true, that through the blood of Christ, we can approach the throne in prayer
and confidence because Jesus is at the right hand of God and the Spirit is
advocating for us.
But sometimes despair can just be too much and we need a
friend, a confidant, or perhaps, a change of circumstances.
In a previous blog post, I shared a bit about the depression
Luke was experiencing during our last term in Zambia. I remember standing back
and knowing all I could do is support him and love him and pray for him as he
wrestled with our calling and identity and our future.
What I didn’t share was that I was scared. I knew Luke was
standing on a firm foundation in Christ and never once even thought about
suicide. I saw his dedication to the Word and to our family. But having arrived
on the field still processing the suicide of our friend, I was extra vigilant
watching for signs of something more than a situational depression. I was
afraid to go through what my dear friend went through, left alone with two kids
to pick up the pieces, a pastor’s wife who was expected to have it all together and then her whole world just crumbled apart.
With a new baby in my arms and a fear in my heart, mama bear
came out in full protection.
While I didn’t growl at anyone (I don’t think), I was very
mindful of my words, and eyes wide open to the One who comes to steal and
destroy. We have an Enemy who is very real and wants to stand in the way of the
great things God wants to do in and through us.
Sometimes this mama bear was so focused on protecting
family, though, that I may have hurt dear friends. Though Luke was back to his
normal, goofy self almost instantaneously when we made our decision to leave
Zambia (bringing further confirmation that we were making the right choice as
the depression seemed more like oppression), we both still carried a lot of
hurt, and at the time, my focus was so on preventing more hurt to us, that my
controlling tendencies may have brought more hurt to others. I say this not
knowing whom I may have upset in those first weeks back in the US. I’ve spent a
lot of time reflecting as we approach the one-year mark from when we decided it
was time to leave Zambia.
We had so many gracious hosts and generous friends welcoming
us back and taking care of us, and I so apologize if our responses were not so
gracious or our welcomes over-stayed. I’m sorry if we were guarded, or as we
felt safe with you, if we overshared. I’m sorry if our brokenness shattered an
ideal image you might have had of missionaries. Most of all, I’m sorry if our
lives/words/choices made you think any less of Jesus.
I say all this as confession, as reflection, as explanation.
I say it to thank you for being safe people as we picked up the pieces of our
brokenness. I say it to ask you to be safe people for others around you who are
in full-time ministry. It brings great joy, but it’s also hard.
We absolutely love what we are doing now to equip new
missionaries. While we often yearn to be the ones going, we are confident that
this is where God wants us and we see Him using our experiences in Zambia to
better enable us to prepare and relate to the new missionaries we work with.
Right now, it’s not so hard. But some days are trying. We are all far from
being holy, and the sanctification process can be a burning fire, especially in
a ministry setting.
So as I think about where we came from, and where we are
now, I just wanted to share this. Pray for your pastors. Encourage the missionaries
in your life. Take your pastor’s wife out for coffee and be a safe place for
her to be real. Share your struggles and let us share ours – so we know we’re
on equal ground. Baby-sit your local college ministry couple’s kids so they can
have a date. Send a care package to an overseas missionary. And be available to
listen, to pray, to counsel (if asked). Ministry life can be hard, and lonely.
Eighty percent of missionaries burn out and don’t finish
their term. According to some statistics, 1,500 pastors leave their ministries
every month because of burnout, conflict or moral failure. Seventy percent say
they have no close friends. And pastors have one of the top three suicide rates
of any profession.
We are thankful to still be in full-time ministry, though it
looks a little different here. We are thankful for so many friends who have
stuck with us through it all. We are thankful for your prayers and your
encouragement. We are thankful for your friendship. Thank you. Please continue
to pray that we – and others working to tell people about Jesus – may be
vigilant and prepared with the full armor of God.
