The Pastor Who Couldn't Say NoPræsten der ikke kunne sige nej

I said yes to everything.

I told myself it was for the Lord.

It wasn't.

Openchurch in Herning was no more than two years old and growing. I was glad for it.

But the list of what I had said yes to was getting absurd.

A growing church. A Bible school where I taught, an hour and a half away. Helping Saddleback Church with pastoral training in thirteen locations across Europe. Three girls at home. A very patient wife.

And then the hand. I had reluctantly said yes to an operation, because the doctor promised my life would be better afterward. What was supposed to be a routine procedure ended with a damaged nerve. My hand burned constantly, as if it were sitting in boiling water.

The pain never stopped. Not in the daytime, not at night.

And still I said yes. Again and again. Because it was for the Lord. Because people needed me. Because I didn't want to let anyone down.

One day it dawned on me that "it's for the Lord" had become a mantra that covered over something else.

Saying no felt like failing. Like leaving God in the lurch.

But God never asked me to run myself into the ground.

There is a difference between sacrifice and self-destruction.

Jesus withdrew. He went off to the deserted place. He slept in the boat. He let people wait, because he needed to be with the Father.

Paul writes about stewarding what we have been entrusted with. Stewardship isn't only about money. It's about time, energy, body and soul.

Setting boundaries is not selfishness. It is taking responsibility for the life God has given you, and for the people who depend on you going the whole distance.

The pain in my hand is still there. Not like back then. But as a reminder I receive.

A reminder that the body speaks. And that God sometimes speaks through it.

What are you saying yes to that costs you too much?

And when did you last take a break, not because you had to, but because you chose to?

You can't give from an empty well. Thankfully, God has a spring that never runs dry.

Jeg sagde ja til alt.

Jeg fortalte mig selv det var for Herren.

Det var det ikke.

Åbenkirke i Herning var ikke mere end to år gammel og voksede. Jeg var glad for det.

Men listen over hvad jeg havde sagt ja til, var ved at blive absurd.

En voksende kirke. En bibelskole jeg underviste på, halvanden time væk. Hjælpe Saddleback Church med præste træning på tretten steder i Europa. Tre piger hjemme. En meget tålmodig hustru.

Og så hånden. Jeg havde modvilligt sagt ja til en operation, fordi lægen lovede at mit liv ville blive bedre bagefter. Det, der skulle have været et rutineindgreb, endte med en beskadiget nerve. Hånden brændte konstant, som om den lå i kogende vand.

Smerterne stoppede aldrig. Hverken om dagen eller om natten.

Og alligevel sagde jeg ja. Igen og igen. Fordi det var for Herren. Fordi folk havde brug for mig. Fordi jeg ikke ville svigte.

En dag gik det op for mig at "det er for Herren" var blevet et mantra, der dækkede over noget andet.

At sige nej føltes som svigt. Som at lade Gud i stikken.

Men Gud bad mig aldrig om at løbe mig selv i sænk.

Der er en forskel på offervilje og selvdestruktion.

Jesus trak sig tilbage. Han gik til det øde sted. Han sov i båden. Han lod folk vente, fordi han havde brug for at være med Faderen.

Paulus skriver om at forvalte det, vi har fået betroet. Forvaltning handler ikke kun om penge. Det handler om tid, energi, krop og sjæl.

At sætte grænser er ikke egoisme. Det er at tage ansvar for det liv, Gud har givet dig, og for de mennesker, der er afhængige af at du holder hele vejen.

Smerten i hånden er der stadig. Ikke som dengang. Men som en påmindelse jeg tager imod.

En påmindelse om at kroppen taler. Og at Gud sommetider taler gennem den.

Hvad siger du ja til, der koster dig for meget?

Og hvornår holdt du sidst en pause, ikke fordi du var nødt til det, men fordi du valgte det?

Du kan ikke give fra en tom brønd. Gud har heldigvis en kilde som aldrig løber tør.