Too Busy to Enjoy the Gift

This is an odd moment for me to be writing about the danger of busyness in the lives of pastors.

Almost a year ago, I was laid off from my position on denominational staff. It was a corporate style process that allowed neither the wrapping up of (what I considered to be) important projects nor even the dignity of setting an automatic email response to say I had moved on. I simply disappeared from colleagues’ inboxes – and from that particular kind of pastoral identity.

For a variety of reasons, I chose to move slowly in discerning my next full-time position. Which is to say: the last ten months have been relatively un-busy. I still do pulpit supply most Sundays, but there are no vestry meetings, no hospital visits, no inbox triage or complaints to field.

This doesn’t mean my days are empty. My dog gets a lot of walks. I spend a disconcerting amount of time dropping off kids and remembering when and where to pick them up. I’ve rediscovered the creative satisfaction of craft sewing.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve used this season to deepen my self care, heal old wounds, practice Duo Lingo, or finally internalize that my worth as a child of God is not contingent on my ministry productivity. But that would be stretching the truth.

The truth is, I hate not being busy. Some pastors will admit they have a “need to be needed” that drives them to over-function. For me, I have a need to know I’m doing things right – that I am competent, influential, and making a noticeable difference.

So, when church and nonprofit newsletters hit my inbox, reporting record attendance, service units delivered, capital campaigns launched… I feel this mix of jealousy and shame. Not only am I afraid of falling behind professionally; I also feel guilty for falling behind in the work of the Kingdom.

A lot has been said about how “busyness” became a badge of honor – the American Protestant work ethic’s violent collision with capitalism. In our age of social isolation and emotional exhaustion, I also wonder if “We’ve been so busy!” also functions as a kind of moat. If I say it quickly and passionately enough, you’re less likely to ask how I really am. What I’ve really been doing. Busyness can become defensive ambiguity.

I’ve drawn a lot of wisdom from Ecclesiastes. It refuses both hustle culture and despair.  Solomon reflects about humanity:

“I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil.”

It’s a simple but shocking reminder that God created us for joy. Times of low production aren’t just about “recharging the battery,” or “self care,” or even “rest.” God created us to enjoy life – both its pleasures and the fruit of its toil.  To enjoy life in a season of low output feels almost transgressive. And yet Ecclesiastes dares to call this enjoyment a gift from God. Perhaps joy is not the reward for faithful labor, but the soil in which faithfulness grows.

In this slower season, one particular practice has helped me receive God’s gift. I’ve taken time to write down stories from my fourteen years as a priest – moments of grace, heartbreak, courage, humor – and to wonder again at God’s presence in them. Though my role in these ministries is over (or at least paused), I get to watch others continue taking the reins and marvel at their faith, gifts and courage.

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When you tell someone you’re “so busy,” what are you hoping they’ll understand about you – or perhaps not ask you – right now?

Where have you quietly tied your sense of worth, faithfulness, or competence to visible productivity in ministry?

How might you respond to God’s generous intention that you “be happy and enjoy yourself as long as you live?”