“What! Are not my endeavors a sufficient ground of hope? Would you rob me of my endeavors? I have nothing else to trust to,” (Charles Wesley, 1738).

Assist Me to Proclaim, John Tyson, p.44

Charles Wesley had been working hard for God. It had been more than 10 years since the Oxford Holy Club days, where he and brother John belonged to a small group of men who held one another diligently accountable to holy life practices. Charles had been serving as a preacher, writing hymns, even went on mission to pre-Revolutionary War America. He had a confidence in himself and his accomplishments, until he started to wonder if he was a sham, that he was talking about Christ all the time, worshipping Christ, preaching about Christ…without actually knowing Christ as anything more than a good idea.

Many people in helping professions find themselves overextending, doing more and more to please those around them, all the while coming unravelled inside. Even if you’re not inherently an anxious person, even if you try to keep healthy life boundaries, you live within systems where anxiety can spill over and unhealthy expectations can be put upon you. Pastors are often expected to be experts in every area of life from religion to finances to building maintenance to organization theory, often expected to be available 24/7, and to drop whatever they’re doing to be with everyone who has the tiniest need. Many clergy are susceptible to feeding into that anxious congregation’s mentality because we bring to the ministry our desires for affirmation. We often rush to fix problems as often as possible, to say “Yes” to every opportunity, to take on what others won’t so programs don’t fail (which would reflect poorly on our leadership, or so we think). This spirals into a sense that one’s self-worth is based in your own endeavors, and that you can never really do quite enough to prove yourself because there’s always one more thing that needs to be done.

Maybe you’re not clergy and you find that to be true for you. Or maybe you are a church member who has remarkably unreasonable expectations of your clergy.

The truth is, it takes a large community working together to break these cycles of anxiety. As Christians, we believe that our worth is found in Christ, NOT in our endeavors…because our endeavors truly never will be enough. Greater happiness and wholeness in life is found in the ability to differentiate our own emotions from the anxiety of others, to remain intimately connected to others without allowing their emotions or fears to become our own.

I need the help of my closest friends, my wife, and my parents to check myself before I wreck myself. The people that are living life with me, and not afraid to call me out when I’m making it all about my endeavors, are my constant lifesavers. They are daily or weekly checking in with me to remind me that my worth is found in Christ alone, who died even for me. They are not afraid to ask me if I’m sticking with the priorities of my calling or if I’m settling for a mediocre spreading out, where I’m trying to help everyone all the time (which ends up helping nobody very much). If I do have any success in ministry, it is because of their faithfulness to me.

I also need the help of the church I serve, to recognize that our anxiety and fears as a people are unfounded because Christ has already won the victory. If we are not suddenly booming with new members or better giving or more volunteers, it is never the fault of one person, nor is it a death sentence. I am thankful for a church that surrounds me with a sense of trust and community, that we are in this together, that the kingdom of God actually is within us and among us. We do have to have conversations about boundaries, and it is give and take. Pastors can go overboard in boundary-keeping and become inaccessible, which really isn’t helpful either. What matters is finding clarity in what you can say a strong “Yes” to, setting clear goals for yourself and for your organization, and allowing those things to give you permission to say “No,” or “Not at this time” to things that will distract you from those few priorities.

Charles Wesley was so discouraged when he realized he’d spent his first forty years of life devoted to the idea of Christ but lacking the conviction or power of Christ as personal to him. He fervently prayed for his faith to be in Christ alone and not in his own striving, and it just felt like Christ was always beyond reach. Until Pentecost 1738, when Charles felt as if Christ was speaking directly to him through a young woman worried over his poor health, and Charles felt “a strange palpitation of heart,” and believed with his whole being that Christ was with him and for him.

As Lent comes to a close and we head into Holy Week, may you find the courage to accept your limits, and the incredible assurance that comes from trusting that Christ is with you and for you.