Pastor, “Taking care of myself is selfish” could cut your race short. Here’s a better way.

Two pastors carry the same load: a spouse, kids, a mortgage, a church, a full calendar. The first puts everyone else first and himself last. He skips meals, skips sleep, never takes a day off, and calls it sacrifice. The second puts his own oxygen mask on first: he eats well, sleeps, gets his blood work done, and books his vacation months out. Twenty years from now, only one of them is still in the pulpit and at the dinner table. Same calling. Different belief. Different future. Of every story in this course, “Taking care of myself is selfish” is the one I’ve fallen for the most.

The old story: “Taking care of myself is selfish”

It sounds like, “I’ve got to take care of everybody else, and then I’ll take care of me.” Picture a plane when the oxygen masks drop. You make sure everyone else’s mask is on, and by the time you’re done, you’re dead. Honestly, that’s how I’ve lived much of my life. It isn’t good.

The old order is everyone first and me last. Not eating. Not sleeping. Stress through the roof. And it feels spiritual, because it looks like sacrifice.

What it costs

Not long ago I was at a doctor’s appointment, and my doctor gave me a number of years before I’d have a heart attack. My reflex in that room was the diagnosis. I basically thought, “I can work with that. I can get everything I need done in that time.” He looked at me like I was nuts. “No. What I’m saying is you’re going to die if you don’t change your life.” Then he asked the question that cut through: “What if you accomplish all your goals, but you’re dead?”

I knew a wonderful pastor, very kind and very sweet. Nobody worked harder at his church than he did. He was doing probably 40 different things. And he died very young of a heart attack. It was very, very sad. I don’t think that should be you, and I don’t think it should be me.

Burnout costs you in the meantime too. Everything small starts to feel massive. You can’t regulate yourself, and you can’t lead clearly.

Breaking the old story

Let me be clear about who this is for. There are lazy pastors out there. But I don’t think you’re one of them. This is for the hard workers, the ones with a fire under them who neglect themselves because they’re so focused on everyone else. For you, the danger isn’t that you won’t run. It’s that a great race gets cut short.

Ministry is a marathon. We’re not running so we can die mid-race. We’re trying to finish the race. God’s calling in our lives is not self-harm. The highest-capacity pastors handle the most pain, but not without sleep, food and a body that can take it.

So we live in rhythms of grace. Sprint, crash, sprint, crash doesn’t work over time. I’m not arguing for a three-day work week; that’s nonsense. But with a steady rhythm, you actually get more done over the long haul. Taking care of your body, taking care of your mind, keeping a clean spirit: that’s how you’re still here in twenty years.

And here’s something I’d protect: there’s a beauty to burning out young. When you’re in your twenties or thirties, find the edge of your plate. Then you learn the warning signs and know when to back off the engine. But once you know where the edge is, you’re responsible for it. Not taking time off is your fault. You’re in charge of your calendar.

The new belief: I steward myself as faithfully as I steward my ministry

Taking care of myself isn’t selfish. Taking care of me is loving my family. Taking care of me is loving my church. You measure everything else in your ministry; measure your own health too. Me going to the gym is the best thing I can do for my church right now.

What to do this week

1. Get your blood work done and act on what it says. Eat well, sleep, and take what the doctor tells you seriously.
2. Book your rest months out. Put your vacation on the calendar and book the guest speaker now. Set your preaching calendar far enough out that you and your team know when you’re on and when you’re off.
3. Decide when you’re done each day. Before you leave, write down tomorrow’s list so it’s out of your head and you can be present at home.

I don’t want my family to say, “Well, he did great things for God, but he’s not here anymore.” I want to be here for my kids and here for my church. Put your oxygen mask on first. It’s not selfish. It’s stewardship.