In the mad rush from work to pick up my kids, the phone lights up. It’s someone from our Church community calling again. I feel the usual pangs of guilt when I remember that they also called yesterday, and the day before, and I still haven’t found time to get back to them. I know they’re really struggling, and I want to help but I feel pulled in so many directions.
One of the verses God gave me when I first moved to Barton, was from 1 Thessalonians chapter 2:8 “We cared so deeply that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God, but our own lives as well.” I loved this idea of sharing life with people but after a year of responding to every crisis, supporting people with very complex needs and being available to everyone, I realised that this was not sustainable. Over the 14 years of living on our estate, our Church team has wrestled with these questions:
‘Does incarnational mission mean 24/7? Does loving someone mean always being available? What about when people’s needs start to drain my energy? How do I balance my time? How do I manage people’s expectations? Is it selfish to say no to things?’
The Bible gives us clear instructions on what it means to love others, and particularly how we treat the most vulnerable. God tells us that the secret to finding life is actually to loose ourselves; he calls us to become a servant, to ‘spend’ ourselves on behalf of the needy. And yet, what we also see in Jesus’ ministry is that he frequently withdrew from crowds to pray. He taught us to let our yes be yes, and our no be no.
In my work as a therapist, boundaries are a common theme. This is because our desire for belonging is so great that sometimes it can be hard to figure out where we end and someone else begins. Our need for significance can lead to wanting to please others, to avoid conflict, to be the best we can be, or to keep things in control.
Boundaries help us to know what we are responsible for. You can imagine it a bit like a having a bubble surrounding you. What’s inside that bubble is your responsibility – your thoughts, your feelings, and your behaviours. This means that someone else’s behaviour, reactions and emotions are their responsibility. Defining what’s mine and what’s yours, frees us from the need to please others. It frees us from the needing to fix, or rescue, or solve all of their problems.
When we don’t put in boundaries, we can end up resentful and burnt out. We also enable other people’s unhealthy behaviour. Sometimes our desire to help others can be more about us, than them. In therapy I encourage people to notice how often they say the word ‘should’, and to start asking themselves ‘what is my purpose in doing this?’ Where we want to get to is that our behaviour becomes a free choice, not something we ‘have’ to do. I’m choosing to help this person not because I want to please them, or to avoid conflict, or to impress others, but because I want to, and because it lines up with my values.
A helpful tip is to swop the word ‘should’ for ‘could’. I could go to this event tonight, or I could decide to stay in and rest; both options are ok. It’s not about elevating my needs over someone else’s or elevating someone else’s needs over my own. There’s no ‘them’ and ‘us’. God sees us all as equal. We’re all equally in need of saving.
People often worry that saying no or putting in clear boundaries in ministry is selfish. The purpose of boundaries, however, is not to move us away from others; in fact, it’s the opposite. We look after ourselves so that we can better serve others. Ultimately, if we want our presence as a Church and as individuals on estates to be long lasting, then we must be able to sustain our ministry over the long-term. We want to bring our whole, healthy selves to others.
God,
We know you’ve called us to bring your light to dark places. Thank you that you see us all as equal and that you care about our needs as much as those we serve. You long for each of us to be healthy and whole. Remove the guilt we feel at not being able to do it all, and remind us that the work belongs to you, the author of everything. Thank you that you love us as we are, not for what we do for you. Let us rest in the knowledge that we have nothing to prove.
Amen.