Fruitfulness without Burnout

Around him, a furious storm had descended on the lake. Waves were breaking over the side of the boat, and it was filling with water. The disciples feared they were about to sink. They woke Jesus with a desperate and a rather accusatory question: 

‘Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?’ - Mark 4:38 

Jesus stood, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ The storm subsided, and everything became calm.  

It is a powerful encounter, and I am particularly struck by the very human and relatable response of the disciples. When we believe something precious is in danger, anxiety is a very natural by-product. 

The responsibilities of ministry and church leadership can sometimes feel like being caught in that storm. Our physical lives may not be at risk (for the most part), but our church, our reputation, our identity and plans, or our sense of calling can feel exposed and fragile. As a result, we may find ourselves working harder and harder, rowing against the waves, while quietly wondering whether everything is about to sink.  

Burnout, I think, can feel a lot like sinking. 

Church leaders face a constant stream of demands. McChesney, Covey and Huling in ‘The 4 disciplines of Execution’, describe this relentless activity as ‘the whirlwind’ which is the urgent and necessary work required simply to keep an organisation functioning. 

The whirlwind can include preparing sermons, responding to pastoral crises, supporting volunteers, overseeing buildings, navigating conflict, balancing budgets, nurturing a culture of safeguarding, answering emails, preparing for the next PCC meeting and more besides.  

All of this work is genuinely wonderful and important and much of it also feels urgent. It’s all good stuff and they each represent huge opportunities for the taking. But even determining which of the multitude of tasks requires our attention today can become a source of pressure. What do I give my time to today? And how much control will I actually have over my diary today, anyway? 

Those of us in church leadership carry a deep desire to be faithful. We want to steward well the things that God has placed in our hands. We want to see lives changed, disciples developed, churches growing and communities thriving. We want our preaching to encourage people and our leadership to make a meaningful difference. Of course we do. 

The desire for faithfulness and fruitfulness often comes from a good and godly place, yet something can quietly shift. 

Church leadership is remarkably difficult to measure. What does success actually look like? How do we know we’re doing a good job? How do we quantify discipleship and spiritual maturity in others? Can we track the slow transformation taking place within a person’s life? It would be so much easier if we could. 

In the absence of clear measures, we can begin to rely on the things that are easiest to count: average attendance, giving, volunteer numbers, social media engagement or positive responses to our preaching. These things aren’t irrelevant, but somewhere along the line we subtly and gradually begin to find our worth in them. 

It’s then not long before hard work begins to flow from faithfulness, but increasingly from anxiety too. We may appear calm above the surface while paddling furiously underneath. We work harder, respond more quickly and take on more responsibility. The show must go on, even when our inner lives gradually feel more depleted. 

Like the disciples, we may find ourselves wondering where Jesus is. Does he see the pressure? Does he understand what’s at stake? Does he care if my church grows or more people come along to the service? 

Hard work is inevitable. On another occasion, after the disciples had been ministering to so many people, they didn’t even have time to eat. I know this can be a lived reality for many church leaders too. But listen to what Jesus said to them: ‘Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest’ - Mark 6:31 

His invitation is striking. Jesus didn’t simply give his disciples better time-management techniques or encourage them to work more efficiently. He invited them to come away with him. Isn’t that beautiful?  

And yet accepting that invitation can be surprisingly difficult. There are external expectations placed upon church leaders by congregations, colleagues, families and senior leaders. There are also the internal expectations we place upon ourselves. Some are realistic and appropriate. Others are imagined, unspoken or just impossible to fulfil. 

I once worked with a leader who would try and spend Friday mornings at Kew Gardens. They would pray and walk and reflect and read the Bible. It modelled something really important to me. Coming away with Jesus was not separate from leadership; it was central to it. 

This is the right order of things. The work is bigger than us, and it doesn’t ultimately depend on us, which is why we need to return continually to Jesus, as an act of dependence. 

Isn’t that what we do each night when we go to sleep. Hardwired into our physical nature is the reminder that we are finite. That we’re limited. That we can’t carry it all. 

Paul’s ministry challenges many of our assumptions about effectiveness. Some of his most fruitful work took place while he was imprisoned and unable to travel, preach publicly or establish new churches. From one perspective, his ministry had been severely restricted. Yet the letters he wrote from prison continue to nourish and shape the Church today.  

Perhaps we need to be reminded about our limitations? Could they be the very place through which God is waiting to produce Kingdom fruit? 

I’ve never burnt out in the medical sense, but like many in church leadership, at points I’ve felt pretty tired and depleted. At times, exhaustion felt inevitable. Leading like this communicates an unspoken message: ‘Fruit at any cost’! ‘Sacrifice ourselves (and maybe others too) on the altar of ministry’! This approach can be seductive and even a little bit addictive. We produce in order to feel validated.   

Yet Jesus didn’t produce in order to be loved. Before his public ministry had begun; before the preaching and teaching and before the crowds, the Father declared: ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.’ - Matthew 3:17 

Jesus’ ministry flowed from acceptance; it was not an attempt to achieve it. 

Christopher Ash in his book ‘Zeal without Burnout’ says the same can be true for us. We are not invited to exhaust ourselves in order to prove our worth to God. We are invited to lead from the security of already being known, chosen and loved. 

Jesus says, ‘I will build my church’. We are invited to participate in what he is doing. The central invitation of Christian leadership is not to strain harder at the oars, it’s to abide in Christ. 

The good news is that fruitfulness without burnout is possible. 

I have made many mistakes along the way, but I also received brilliant practical teaching and support over the years that reshaped my understanding of sustainable leadership.  

Now, through my work with CPAS, I have the privilege of sharing some of this learning with other church leaders. 

On 17 September I will be leading a session entitled ‘Fruitfulness without Burnout’ where we will consider what drives our activity, how expectations and insecurity can shape our leadership, and what practices can help us remain faithful and fruitful over the long term. 

If you are asking yourself whether sustainable ministry is possible, why come along? I think you might find it encouraging, perhaps even transformational.