Fame, reputation, and Burnout in Ministry

I was famous.

Well, that’s an exaggeration, but I kind of felt famous at times. People would walk up to me, excitedly exclaiming, “Wait, are you the doctor?!?”

Honestly, I still find the question humorous, comically commenting in my head, “The doctor? Yes, I am the doctor. In fact, I am the only doctor in the world. What can I help you with, my child?”

I’m still not sure why people never asked, “Are you the doctor who does medical missions,” but they never did- just shortened it to “the doctor“. And either way, they had heard of me, somehow or another. Initially, I was just figuring that someone, somewhere was talking about how strange or confused my career was- part time pediatrician, part time mission planner. But as time went on, it seemed more reasonable. Well, of course they’ve heard of me, I’ve done multiple trips, I disciple tons of students, I’ve had great testimonies of medicines being multiplied and people being healed…

I neither recognized nor acknowledged that pride was taking over. It was replacing what was supposed to be a fun service endeavor as my new identity. The ministering doctor. The doctor who needed to do more impressive overhauls at work, bring more faith to trips so we could get great testimonies, and disciple more people so I had more great stories about how incredible all the work I was doing was! I clearly didn’t leave God behind- he was showing up every day, to give me this word for this person, this incredible donation for this endeavor, this opportunity behind this closed door… Besides, I was working for God, doing exactly what he wanted- winning souls, redeeming communities, and teaching others how to walk a spirit-directed life as well. Where was the bad?!

I’ll simply call it a series of unfortunate events that took me out- out of my career, out of my ministry, and out of life simultaneously. I ended up in the middle of nowhere by myself working at a job that seemed like pointless drudgery, especially given the incredible things we had been doing the previous year! I was bored and annoyed. Surely this wasn’t the plan. And more than anything I couldn’t understand why any of it had happened. There was not major, blatant sin in my life- I had done exactly what God had said, and been left with nothing.

To be fair, other people’s decisions had a big impact on my life that year. But I think the other reason I crashed was because God wanted me to. Honestly, I don’t think most people would describe me as proud (I hope not!). But God saw what wasn’t even obvious to me in my heart- a small tinge of a growing sin that would have destroyed me and everyone I was serving in a few years, and instead of letting me continue in my own self-sufficiency and determination, he took me out.

And it wasn’t until I was sitting around doing nothing of significance that I realized that the goal of our Christian life isn’t significance.

The way that things go today in Christianity, we uplift certain things- the incredible testimonies, unbelievable transformations, and awe-inspiring changes. We circulate the notable and ignore the mundane. We’re more enamored by the drug-addict turned to God then by the mother faithfully pouring into her child for 18 years so he will know and love God. We’re more enthralled by the millionaire who left for full time ministry then by the office worker who consistently serves and loves his office every day. We want and work for the amazing, not for the regular. 

But honestly, serving God is not about being famous. It’s about the tiny steps and small decisions that we make each day that hopefully take us closer and closer to God. Recognition can become a drug that wedges in between our relationship with him and makes our entire life about working hard enough to force note-worthy awesomeness. God does not notice us, love us more, or help us more because of our notability. He loves us regardless of what we do. And if we don’t keep that straight, we’ll run ourselves into the ground.

We’ll build because it seems right, not because God said so. We’ll serve because we should, not because we are loving those around us. We’ll pray because we want the testimony, not because we want that person’s heart changed. We’ll go because everyone else is going, not trusting God to be with us and transform things even in our very home. We’ll stay and fight determined to see the situation go the way we want, not because God is breaking down walls and improving our faith in Him.

We’ll work because we are determined, not because we are trusting God to change that which we were incapable of changing to begin with. 

It’s a setup to burn ourselves out. And luckily, we aren’t here to fight with our own logic, and hard work, and reputations. Jesus came to earth to show us a new way. Not unending boringness, and not non-stop self-effort, but the start of incredible opportunity. Because the power that raised him from the dead was not a cool trick, not a five-hour energy, and not an old, silly tale. It was a catalyst for more. It was over-abundant, beyond-excessive, death-defying power over literally everything, including the things that stump and derail and frustrate you and me. Thankfully, God isn’t asking for us to change the world by ourselves…

He’s just asking for our hearts and then giving us the direction and the power so we can walk with him while He changes everything we see.

So we’ve got to stop trusting in ourselves, and our reputations, and our incredible stories to make it through. We’ve got to trust God that sometimes life is incredible tales of redemption and sometimes it’s boring, mundane steps that don’t seem to make a difference at all. We’ve got to stop making notoriety equivalent to God’s love. And we’ve got to trust God, through the ups and downs, through the incredible highs, and burned-out lows, and let Him help us and direct us no matter what.