Sabbatical Zones #6 – The Emotional Zone

I am not the kind of person who regularly goes on wild emotional switchback rides.  Yes, I can feel scared, happy, angry and the rest, but they are unusual friends.  Plot me on an average day, and I’m pretty much steady state.

I’ve learnt, by the way, that ‘steady state’ doesn’t mean ‘unemotional’ or ‘not in touch with my feelings’.  ‘Calm’ and ‘having the day I expected’ are just as emotionally valid experiences as ‘livid’ or ‘in despair’.  I’ve also learnt that emotional states come with a dial – something might make me livid, but you irritated. Even better you might have learnt that simply calling that emotional state ‘irritated’ or even ‘a tad peeved’ tames it a bit, reduces its ferocity and puts you more in control. Conversely, saying you are furious, can make you so.

Likewise the positive emotions – joy can be a decision, rather than a happy accident.

And that came after a time of starting to look at our emotions through the lens of the Psalms, and thinking about what we could or should feel, or not, and how our emotions are to be discipled.

All that said, I think my emotional dials at the beginning of the year were starting to show consistently, tired, flat, and lacking bounce.

An older, wiser Christian said I reminded him of Gideon and his small army chasing the forces of Midian – as the King James Version puts it, Faint, yet pursuing (Judges 8:4).  

I would guess that most pastors experienced something similar at the end of all the lockdown sequence which ended with our new realities.  Add into that mix some staff turnover and some unsuccessful recruitment to the team, and – well, you get the picture.

Nothing unusual, abnormal or worrying.  But definitely an indication that I would benefit from the planned sabbatical.

What I wanted most, I discovered, was being away from constant decision-making.  When things are on a routine path, delegation is easier because habits can be established.  But we know we’d all been through a hurricane of a season, when patterns had to be re-established continually and problems solved, then solved in a different way.  That close-up, continual focus on innovation, at a time when we were all socially stretched and light on models to copy, was demanding. Too many things came to and stayed on my desk, because they were hard, and answering them wrongly would come at a cost.

By the end, I found I was having too many conversations where I was happy to contribute, but fought shy of actually making the decision. ‘I don’t know, what do you think?’ was becoming too easy to say.

‘I don’t know, what do you think?’ was becoming too easy to say.

So, add to calm, weary.  Add to confident, uncertain.  Add to working on the plan, making it up as we go. Having to learn a lot of skills fast, but not having any choice in what was learnt. Having to make up answers to questions none of us had really considered before, with serious spiritual risk to a church family’s health and unity. Those issues can sit alongside joy, but not so easily with contentment.

The human brain doesn’t work like a muscle.  Muscles when tired and sore need rest – but it’s impossible to rest your brain. It has no off-switch.  What it needs instead is a different kind of activity.  A pause from somethings, most certainly, but also a challenge. Give it interest, but not like the one that’s caused the repeated strain and made it weary.

This goes back to what I’ve already reflected on, about needing an intellectual stimulus, but of a different kind. Which is why I read about, thought about, and practiced something about painting and arty stuff. Difficult ideas, and complex new skills.  Because even when I’m painting, although I’m not speaking or even listening to some music, I’m giving the task my full attention.

You’ll get why going fishing wouldn’t work for me.

Did it work?  Yes, it did.  As I said to someone, I wanted to be in a place where the hardest question of the day was ‘red or white?’ Just like we have to learn that sermon prep in the afternoon is nowhere near as efficient as prep in the morning, because we need a shift of pace, so I needed a longer sense of rhythm, with (gosh this sounds so obvious in hindsight) a period of reflection following a season of intense challenge. 

Have you found that you are Faint, yet pursuing?

What are the elements of ministry which you currently find most draining?

Apply that to the rhythms of your day, your week, your day off, your year.