Tears stained my journal.
I was writing furiously, pouring out my anxious thoughts to God. My passions and prayers poured out in ink on paper. I was in one of the darkest places of my life. As a pastor.
I don’t know what you do when you feel bad. Maybe you shove it all down, telling yourself that good men of God don’t have to experience negative emotions. Maybe you yell it out, justifying your anger by the difficult nature of the work you do. Or, maybe you find your way into a bottle from time to time, not to black out but just to take the edge off.
Or, maybe you are the most dangerous one of all, the one who thinks that what I’ve just described of a dark and difficult season won’t ever mark your life. You’ll plant differently. You’ll push through it. You’re stronger. Well my friend, I hope you’re right. But just in case you’re not (and trust me, you’re not) keep reading.
The driven man who plants a difficult work to make disciples of Jesus will experience the darkness. It’s just going to happen. In my experience, there are three common ways this darkness comes to envelop us.
Church measuring contests are just the worst. I’ve led a really little church, and now l lead a rather large one. You know what I’ve discovered? Smallness or largeness are both fertile grounds for envy’s darkness. Do you find yourself talking about people and budgets more than you should? Do you look over your shoulder or at another church’s Instagram to see how you’re doing? That’s envy. Don’t play that game, fellow planter. The yawning hunger of envy is never satisfied by people and money.
“It should be different than this!” he shouted. I was counseling a fellow church planter, and he was simply frustrated at the work and the state of things. Disappointment is the gap between expectation and reality. Self-pity is the sinful response to disappointment. Look, you’re not going to be happy with everything that happens in your church. You will feel disappointment. So, guard your heart. When disappointment comes, recognize it as a need for grace, not an excuse for self-absorbed unhappiness.
This one is my speciality. When the darkness seeks to hide His face, instead of resting on His unchanging grace, I get to work. I don’t work hard to earn my salvation; we pastors are too savvy for that. Instead, I do something worse. I work hard to earn my humanity, my sense of useful, image-bearing creativity before God. That’s not a gift of salvation but of my creation.
So there I was, frustrated, angry, and disappointed. I was jealous of the way church and life was going for others. I felt full of pity. So, I resolved to work harder; new outreaches, better services, stronger sermons. This time it was going to work.
But then, in the midst of my hurried emotions, my Healer came.
Breath. Grace. Breath.
I sat there with all of my ugly, swirling emotions. I suddenly because aware that God was there too. He saw it all.
He read my journal and my heart. He saw me, His servant, as His son. He loved me in the mess of my heart, my sin, and my angry tirade in pen and ink. Suddenly, by the Spirit, I just knew He was, He was good, and He was with me.
There was God, my great savior, saving me again.
God didn’t solve my emotions that day. I didn’t walk away with any better sermons. No new programs were birthed from that moment. But upon reflection, there are four things that got me through that dark moment and keep getting me through dark moments.
I don’t know if tears stain your journal. Maybe you’ve not yet had the dark night of the soul. But in case you do, remember to not give way to pitiful envy or work-harder inhumanity. Remember your savior’s beauty and the good gifts He’s given you to help you. When you find them, you find Him. Darkness abates, and you may just start walking in some of that victory you like to preach about so much.