the work of love
“When He saw the crowds, He had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”
Matthew 9:36
“Let us learn to think of tears as liquid prayers.”
Charles Spurgeon
Last week was one of the most complicated and challenging weeks I have had in ministry in a long time.
It wasn’t one thing; it was everything.
Emails unanswered.
Messages piling up.
Pastoral needs pressing in like a rising tide.
A sermon to write.
Behind on curriculum.
Crises to mediate.
Spiritual attacks that don't make the news but shake the soul.
Leadership burdens that don't fit in a calendar app.
Travel that looks glamorous on Instagram but feels hollow when your body is in motion and your heart is somewhere else entirely.
Last night, I stopped mid-stride in my apartment, half-thinking and wondering: Is any of this even making a difference, considering all the needs?
These moments are rare for me, but when they hit, they hurt.
EROSION OF THE SOUL
Men today rarely burn out from one dramatic moment. It’s a slow erosion, barely perceptible, but pernicious in its effect that does the damage.
Brené Brown speaks of a "culture of scarcity" characterized by the mantras "never enough time," "never enough accomplishment," "never enough impact."
I was having a “never enough” kind of week.
The real ache was not so much the amount of work as the kind of work.
A hundred good tasks that buried the critical ones.
A thousand screens that numbed my attention.
A pace of life that honored God in theory but forgot Him in practice.
I felt a spiritual danger creeping in.
The danger of becoming a Christian executive, not a lover of the living God.
The danger of becoming a strategist of revival, not a recipient of love.
The danger to stop standing still and be astonished by grace.
Howard Thurman, mystic and mentor to Dr. King, once wrote: "Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
I've been pondering this because what makes us come alive isn't always what fills our calendar. I have never met a single person whose job description and core responsibilities include “doing what makes you come alive.”
THE DANGER OF SPIRITUALLY DEPLETED MEN
Psychologists speak of "cognitive depletion,” the progressive exhaustion of our mental resources that leads to diminished self-control and decision quality. But there's a spiritual depletion, too, that's harder to measure and more hazardous to the soul.
It manifests itself in subtle ways:
Prayers that feel mechanical
Scripture that no longer moves the heart
Ministry that feels like mid-level management
A heart that's professionally compassionate but personally numb
I don’t want to become a man who is externally composed while internally dissolving.
HITTING THE WALL
Last night at the end of the week, I hit a wall.
I had a list of things to do that were simply impossible based on the time I had available. In the midst of it all, the voice of accusation came in.
You're not doing enough. You're not making a dent. You will let your people down.
I felt powerless and useless, and for reasons I couldn't fully explain (perhaps the Spirit, perhaps desperation), I simply stopped. I walked out of my apartment and into the city.
No more work. No plan. No phone. No agenda.
I simply walked the streets of New York.
I passed the hurried, the jaded, and the weary.
I passed men with too much power and others with none at all.
I passed men picking up trash.
I passed doormen staring off into space.
I passed women in groups headed to Broadway shows.
And somewhere around 52nd Street, I slowed down, looked up, and I prayed.
PRAYING THE CITY BACK INTO MY HEART
I prayed not because I had the perfect words but because I needed to remember that God loves this city more than I do. I needed to remember that the ache I feel is not a sign of failure but of love.
I stood on Broadway and watched a mother laughing with her son.
I saw a man asleep on a piece of cardboard next to a bakery.
I saw teenagers laughing with headphones on, utterly unaware of the spiritual forces surrounding them.
And my heart broke again. Not in a dramatic, visible way. But in the quiet way that helps you remember who you are and what you're here for.
I reflected on a few lines from Mary Oliver that I have come back to over the years.
“Let me keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,which is mostly standing still
and learning to be astonished.My work is loving the world.”
My work is not to fix the world; my work is to love the world, and love is enough.
TO LOVE IS ENOUGH
I walked back up 7th Avenue and saw a man asking for change. I gave him what I had and looked him in the eyes and did my best to bless him.
"Most people just throw things at me and walk off. But you talk to me like I'm an actual person."
That's when I was reminded…
THIS is the ministry.
Not just the engaging sermon. Not the next book. Not the next meeting.
It's presence. It's prayer. It's proximity.
It's the holy ground of standing still and learning to be astonished by the beauty of the imago Dei all around me.
MIND ON WHAT MATTERS
We are so prone to hyperbolic discounting today, our tendency to overvalue immediate rewards and undervalue long-term benefits. Ministry often suffers from this same distortion. We privilege visible, measurable outcomes over the slow, hidden work of spiritual formation. We fall into the trap of thinking that solving the current problems will lead to permanent solutions. But the work of love comes daily and slowly.
That’s why Mary Oliver's words hit me so hard. They reminded me of the true work. These words from her poem won't sell out stadiums, win leadership awards, or go viral. But they just might heal our souls.
Let me keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still
and learning to be astonished.
My work is loving the world.
Brother, if you're feeling overwhelmed and unseen, I get it. I often feel that way, too. But maybe this isn't merely a sign you're failing. Maybe it's an invitation.
An invitation to slow down.
To step outside.
To stand still.
To be astonished.
To pray for your city.
To serve without an agenda or outcome.
To love the world, even when it doesn't love you back.
I am reminded…
The city doesn't need my exhaustion; it needs my wonder.
The city doesn't need my strategic plan; it needs my sanctified presence.
The city doesn't need my perfect execution; it needs my embodied love.
I refuse to let my ministry expand while my interior life contracts.
I am seeking the work of love.
LOSING PACE, GAINING HEART
Jesus isn't asking you to carry the world; He already did that.
He's asking you to love it. Not abstractly, but daily, tangibly, locally. He's asking you to be interrupted, to be healed as you serve, and to remember that awe is still available if you’re still enough to see it.
There's a rhythm to sustainable ministry that flows from the life of Jesus Himself:
Creation and limitation
Work and rest
Effort and surrender
Speaking and listening
Action and contemplation
This isn't merely practical wisdom but theological truth. The incarnation itself demonstrates that God values process and embodiment, not just outcomes. Jesus spent thirty years in obscurity before three years of public ministry. This ratio should give us pause.
So, turn off the podcast.
Close the laptop.
Walk outside.
Your soul isn't broken; it's buried. Let wonder dig it back up.
Here for an astonishing life of love.
Hoping to bump into you on the streets of New York City one day.
Cheers.
Jon.
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Discussion Questions:
In what ways have you experienced the "slow erosion" of your soul rather than dramatic burnout moments in your own life?
When do you feel the disconnect between what makes you "come alive" and what fills your calendar right now? What impact is it having on your heart?
Where do you see our modern obsession with measurable outcomes undermining the "slow, hidden work of spiritual formation" in your life right now?
How might Jesus' example of withdrawing to pray despite pressing crowds help you establish rhythms that sustain rather than deplete your spiritual life?
What is one practical thing you can do this week to regain some wonder and joy? What is it, and when will you do it?