The Pastor Who Couldn't Say No

I said yes to everything.

I told myself it was for the Lord.

It wasn't.

Openchurch in Herning was no more than two years old and growing. I was glad for it.

But the list of what I had said yes to was getting absurd.

A growing church. A Bible school where I taught, an hour and a half away. Helping Saddleback Church with pastoral training in thirteen locations across Europe. Three girls at home. A very patient wife.

And then the hand. I had reluctantly said yes to an operation, because the doctor promised my life would be better afterward. What was supposed to be a routine procedure ended with a damaged nerve. My hand burned constantly, as if it were sitting in boiling water.

The pain never stopped. Not in the daytime, not at night.

And still I said yes. Again and again. Because it was for the Lord. Because people needed me. Because I didn't want to let anyone down.

One day it dawned on me that "it's for the Lord" had become a mantra that covered over something else.

Saying no felt like failing. Like leaving God in the lurch.

But God never asked me to run myself into the ground.

There is a difference between sacrifice and self-destruction.

Jesus withdrew. He went off to the deserted place. He slept in the boat. He let people wait, because he needed to be with the Father.

Paul writes about stewarding what we have been entrusted with. Stewardship isn't only about money. It's about time, energy, body and soul.

Setting boundaries is not selfishness. It is taking responsibility for the life God has given you, and for the people who depend on you going the whole distance.

The pain in my hand is still there. Not like back then. But as a reminder I receive.

A reminder that the body speaks. And that God sometimes speaks through it.

What are you saying yes to that costs you too much?

And when did you last take a break, not because you had to, but because you chose to?

You can't give from an empty well. Thankfully, God has a spring that never runs dry.