How can you call yourself a Christian?

“C’mon, pastor Brian! Can’t you help me out this one time? How can you call yourself a Christian? You’re supposed to help people like me.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t think I’m helping if I keep doing what you ask of me.”

That’s what I wish I said.
It’s what I was thinking.
It’s what I thought every time he called or came through my door for “help.”

He was a manipulator. He knew what buttons to push. Yes, his needs were genuine, but he refused every time I offered real help and accompaniment. He wanted a salve to soothe his pain, but it held a tight grip on him, and he couldn’t see beyond the moment of his need. He was stuck in a never-ending cycle of poverty and addiction, living on the streets and in awful hotels. I had compassion for him. I wanted to help, but I let him trespass into spaces and places where what I gave him was anything but.

One time, I gave him a bag full of groceries. Later that day, he called me, saying, “The food you gave me isn’t fit for a dog! I’m not your dog, Pastor Brian!” He cornered me again that Sunday after worship, insisting I buy him fresh groceries. I refused, and he stormed off, F-Bombs flying. So, typically, I gave him what he wanted when he asked (usually a gift card for the gas station) rather than establishing boundaries and following through with consequences for his words and actions. I gave him what he wanted and sent him on his way. 

“Thank you, Pastor Brian. God bless you, Pastor Brian. I’ll see you Sunday, Pastor Brian.”

Whenever I refused his requests or gave him something different than what he wanted, he berated me. He yelled and swore, questioning my faith and position. A few times, he even threatened physical violence. That never troubled me too much. He weighs about 100 lbs soaking wet, and came up to about my shoulders. I’m a big guy, plus I took a month of karate classes, so I’m pretty sure I would have been ok if he tried to make good on his threats. LOL. But I often gave in. I thought it would be easier than setting and holding an appropriate boundary. I was wrong. 

Whenever he left, I sat in my office, feeling sick and exhausted. Is this what serving “The last and the least” is supposed to feel like? Maybe it is. Maybe this work is just hard, and I’m called to sacrifice myself for the sake of everyone else. 

At least, that’s what I used to tell myself. I wanted to prove my worth. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to erase my past failures with present success.

It almost killed me. 

If I had died from my heart attack (the culmination of years of abuse to my body, mind, and spirit… all in the name of serving God by serving others), people would have honored me for my service. They would have eulogized my giving, self-sacrifice, and for my love for people in need. They would have likely memorialized me as an example to follow, but I wasn’t. No, following the parts of me that some people idealized would lead anyone away from health and wholeness. I let the people I was trying to help trespass on things like family time, rest, creativity, and more by not setting (and keeping) healthy boundaries and rhythms for myself. I’ve worked hard for the last four years to change that. 

I’ve thought a lot about this as I’ve ventured back into church work as a pastor these last few months. I want to serve and serve well. I want to love and love well. I want to direct people toward the light in the darkness. There’s a lot that I want to (and will) do. It’s good to have goals and ambition, but not at the cost of my health. A burnt-out pastor isn’t helpful to anyone. So, in these early weeks and months of my role as Associate Pastor, I’m paying close attention to my rhythm. I’m trying to establish boundaries to help me sustain holistic health over the years I will serve this church community. It’s hard to be patient with myself. I don't want others to see me as disengaged or lazy. That’s not who I am, but sometimes I will necessarily disengage. I will unapologetically rest and prioritize my family over other relationships. If I can tend well to this, maybe I’ll be someone worth following and trustworthy as a leader in our faith community. 

That’s what I want.

Author: Don’t You Care That We Are Drowning? (And Other Unexpected Prayers)
Latest Single: Where I Belong
Website: www.BrianSpahrCreative.com
Socials: @brianspahrcreative