The Paradox of Compassion without Boundaries
When I moved to Honduras to be a missionary six years ago, I didn't have a sending church, hadn't had any formal missions training, and went with many ambitions that were quickly dispelled just a couple months after I'd arrived. In general, while it's been stretching, being a loosely-tied pioneer hasn't been that bad. Loneliness has been frequent, and direction at times has been elusive. But, arriving in Honduras without a concrete plan has allowed me the ability to observe, learn the culture, and listen to God's leading in what He's calling me to here without letting my preconceived ideas direct me.
With all of that said, if there is one thing I wish I would have known before becoming a missionary, it's the importance of boundaries. People who become missionaries or enter ministry or even just are people who intentionally care for others in need, inside or outside of their sphere of family and friends, are people who usually have the faith that people can change, that humans can work towards making a difference, and that enough kindness and patience will bring results. Was anyone else of those beliefs, or was that just me? The issue for those of us who have the gift of mercy is that we've often convinced ourselves that being merciful also means we're supposed to allow our hearts to be trampled beyond repair and that if we just sacrifice enough the other person will eventually receive enough love from us that he/she will change. If you're like I was, you can easily focus on that Bible passage that says that love is long-suffering and carefully sidestep the passage that says to guard your heart because everything else flows from there. It's a version of love that is all mercy, all compassion, all patience, all suffering, all the time. Now, I do believe that God's love does display many of those selfless characteristics, and I also believe that as those who love Jesus, we should be in a process of developing those characteristics in order to love others better. But love also means discipline, uncomfortable consequences, and growth through the refining of not always getting what you want. I have known first-hand that the paradox of compassion without boundaries is that it eventually creates compassion fatigue, calloused hearts, and souls moving from a place of fear of more pain instead of genuine love. Without boundaries, the very people who set out to change the world one person at a time become the people that desperately need loved back to life eventually. By denying we have needs, we become the inescapably needy. And ministry without respectful, healthy boundaries becomes obligatory, business-like, and religious.
It's such an easy trap to fall into. As a missionary, I know well the compulsion to justify my existence in another country. The drive to prove via some tangible results that I'm not a fraud and that what I believe and Who I believe in works. The undercurrent question of, "Am I doing enough?" And the underlying fear that the answer to that question is "No, to someone, somewhere, it's never enough." Thankfully, I have been blessed by wonderful, encouraging people who don't demand as much of me as I tend to demand of myself. But, eventually, not having boundaries, feeling like you don't have permission to guard your heart, and being confused, thinking that your value in ministry is about how much you sacrifice, takes its toll. It can be subtle in attitude shifts--things that would've touched our hearts at the height of our idealism are now cause for an eye roll or a sneer. It can be seeing someone else beginning their own ministry journey with all of their hopes and feeling nearly tangibly the weight of our own jadedness, resisting the urge to say although we do think, "You just wait." In a message I heard at a conference, Heidi Baker described her own burn-out as being like a prickly cactus. Just existing meant being sharp with everyone in her surroundings.
And, most of us who have been there aren't oblivious to our hard-to-live-with qualities, the person we once were that was lost. But, clawing your way from that hole is also riddled with detours and deceits. When you've existed with a do and do and do, give and give and give, striving mentality, it's not exactly easy to flip a switch and understand that you can't force yourself to have compassion again. The first instinct unless you've had a come-to-Jesus reckoning is to drum up some love, at least make it look like you feel something you don't. It's an isolating tactic and causes more damage. The series of events soon becomes take on too much (activities, pain, disrespect) with no boundaries - fail at maintaining love for others because you don't feel loved yourself - feel like a failure for not being able to love well or do it all - try to do better in your own strength - get depressed because you fail - close yourself off emotionally so that no pain or love can come in and/or leave ministry entirely. Thankfully, there is a another way, and I'm learning its rhythms.
Unfortunately, most churches and ministries do not teach the importance of guarding your heart and having boundaries. Rather than being loved and accepted with the understanding that the other person can hear directly from God, the word "no" in the middle of much need is not often welcomed. And, if your authority isn't great at saying no, there is a definite trickle-down. The attitude often is, "How can you say no? Can't you see how overwhelmed I am already and how much I'm doing? If I can sacrifice you can to!" Striving leaders breed pressured, demanding, and judgmental workers. There's a reason the Bible says in Matthew 11 that God's yoke for us is easy and the burden light. Often, He's not demanding of us what we think He is. Sometimes, it's easier for us to strive and try to produce tangible results or sacrifice instead of opening our hearts for Him to explore every corner. We prefer the busyness over the haunting quiet. Full hands don't have to receive. Running around doing ministry seems easier than relationship at times.
If you're like me, maybe you got into a giving or ministering situation knowing fully that who does the work is God Himself, knowing that His presence is key in all things. Maybe the loss of that vine and branch connection was very subtle--a missed morning with God because someone called with a need. Something that started as an unusual, not-every-day kind of thing, soon becomes an everyday occurrence, and the devotion to solitude, reflection, and receiving slips away without announcing its goodbyes. The trouble, I'm learning, with not fighting for that secret place and protecting it at all costs, the issue with letting others use us and abuse us in the name of ministry without ever saying, "I will not be present in this relationship any further if this behavior continues," is that without those boundaries we lose our purpose. And, worse than losing our purpose, we also start to have a distorted view of God. We begin to believe that He is as demanding as we are of ourselves. We start to think that He will only use us and leave us as those with whom we can't seem to place limits. We assume that we have to earn His love, and what we do will never be enough. We doubt His goodness. We suspect that what He asks of us will be damaging, and we avoid His presence thinking that we're avoiding pain.
The very reason I came to Honduras--to love and serve people as Jesus did--becomes such an unobtainable afterthought when I'm grasping to be loved, when I'm wondering if I even belong in a place where I've received such pain. But, the truth of the matter is that if I'd fought for those boundaries of time to insist on dwelling in His presence and being refueled, if I'd known that I had permission to not give when my heart couldn't do so joyfully, I wouldn't feel like a lost child feeling around in a foggy dark wondering where I belong. There is no purpose without boundaries. We cannot fully say YES to God, a deep relationship with Him, to His purposes, to His dreams, and to His strategies if we're incapable of saying no to the pressures, propositions, dreams, and strategies that don't come from Him.
With all of that said, if there is one thing I wish I would have known before becoming a missionary, it's the importance of boundaries. People who become missionaries or enter ministry or even just are people who intentionally care for others in need, inside or outside of their sphere of family and friends, are people who usually have the faith that people can change, that humans can work towards making a difference, and that enough kindness and patience will bring results. Was anyone else of those beliefs, or was that just me? The issue for those of us who have the gift of mercy is that we've often convinced ourselves that being merciful also means we're supposed to allow our hearts to be trampled beyond repair and that if we just sacrifice enough the other person will eventually receive enough love from us that he/she will change. If you're like I was, you can easily focus on that Bible passage that says that love is long-suffering and carefully sidestep the passage that says to guard your heart because everything else flows from there. It's a version of love that is all mercy, all compassion, all patience, all suffering, all the time. Now, I do believe that God's love does display many of those selfless characteristics, and I also believe that as those who love Jesus, we should be in a process of developing those characteristics in order to love others better. But love also means discipline, uncomfortable consequences, and growth through the refining of not always getting what you want. I have known first-hand that the paradox of compassion without boundaries is that it eventually creates compassion fatigue, calloused hearts, and souls moving from a place of fear of more pain instead of genuine love. Without boundaries, the very people who set out to change the world one person at a time become the people that desperately need loved back to life eventually. By denying we have needs, we become the inescapably needy. And ministry without respectful, healthy boundaries becomes obligatory, business-like, and religious.
It's such an easy trap to fall into. As a missionary, I know well the compulsion to justify my existence in another country. The drive to prove via some tangible results that I'm not a fraud and that what I believe and Who I believe in works. The undercurrent question of, "Am I doing enough?" And the underlying fear that the answer to that question is "No, to someone, somewhere, it's never enough." Thankfully, I have been blessed by wonderful, encouraging people who don't demand as much of me as I tend to demand of myself. But, eventually, not having boundaries, feeling like you don't have permission to guard your heart, and being confused, thinking that your value in ministry is about how much you sacrifice, takes its toll. It can be subtle in attitude shifts--things that would've touched our hearts at the height of our idealism are now cause for an eye roll or a sneer. It can be seeing someone else beginning their own ministry journey with all of their hopes and feeling nearly tangibly the weight of our own jadedness, resisting the urge to say although we do think, "You just wait." In a message I heard at a conference, Heidi Baker described her own burn-out as being like a prickly cactus. Just existing meant being sharp with everyone in her surroundings.
And, most of us who have been there aren't oblivious to our hard-to-live-with qualities, the person we once were that was lost. But, clawing your way from that hole is also riddled with detours and deceits. When you've existed with a do and do and do, give and give and give, striving mentality, it's not exactly easy to flip a switch and understand that you can't force yourself to have compassion again. The first instinct unless you've had a come-to-Jesus reckoning is to drum up some love, at least make it look like you feel something you don't. It's an isolating tactic and causes more damage. The series of events soon becomes take on too much (activities, pain, disrespect) with no boundaries - fail at maintaining love for others because you don't feel loved yourself - feel like a failure for not being able to love well or do it all - try to do better in your own strength - get depressed because you fail - close yourself off emotionally so that no pain or love can come in and/or leave ministry entirely. Thankfully, there is a another way, and I'm learning its rhythms.
Unfortunately, most churches and ministries do not teach the importance of guarding your heart and having boundaries. Rather than being loved and accepted with the understanding that the other person can hear directly from God, the word "no" in the middle of much need is not often welcomed. And, if your authority isn't great at saying no, there is a definite trickle-down. The attitude often is, "How can you say no? Can't you see how overwhelmed I am already and how much I'm doing? If I can sacrifice you can to!" Striving leaders breed pressured, demanding, and judgmental workers. There's a reason the Bible says in Matthew 11 that God's yoke for us is easy and the burden light. Often, He's not demanding of us what we think He is. Sometimes, it's easier for us to strive and try to produce tangible results or sacrifice instead of opening our hearts for Him to explore every corner. We prefer the busyness over the haunting quiet. Full hands don't have to receive. Running around doing ministry seems easier than relationship at times.
If you're like me, maybe you got into a giving or ministering situation knowing fully that who does the work is God Himself, knowing that His presence is key in all things. Maybe the loss of that vine and branch connection was very subtle--a missed morning with God because someone called with a need. Something that started as an unusual, not-every-day kind of thing, soon becomes an everyday occurrence, and the devotion to solitude, reflection, and receiving slips away without announcing its goodbyes. The trouble, I'm learning, with not fighting for that secret place and protecting it at all costs, the issue with letting others use us and abuse us in the name of ministry without ever saying, "I will not be present in this relationship any further if this behavior continues," is that without those boundaries we lose our purpose. And, worse than losing our purpose, we also start to have a distorted view of God. We begin to believe that He is as demanding as we are of ourselves. We start to think that He will only use us and leave us as those with whom we can't seem to place limits. We assume that we have to earn His love, and what we do will never be enough. We doubt His goodness. We suspect that what He asks of us will be damaging, and we avoid His presence thinking that we're avoiding pain.
The very reason I came to Honduras--to love and serve people as Jesus did--becomes such an unobtainable afterthought when I'm grasping to be loved, when I'm wondering if I even belong in a place where I've received such pain. But, the truth of the matter is that if I'd fought for those boundaries of time to insist on dwelling in His presence and being refueled, if I'd known that I had permission to not give when my heart couldn't do so joyfully, I wouldn't feel like a lost child feeling around in a foggy dark wondering where I belong. There is no purpose without boundaries. We cannot fully say YES to God, a deep relationship with Him, to His purposes, to His dreams, and to His strategies if we're incapable of saying no to the pressures, propositions, dreams, and strategies that don't come from Him.
The need for boundaries became painfully apparent to me a few years ago, and since then, it's been a long and non-linear journey. I've had to learn and re-learn. I've had to come to peace with seasons of slowness and of letting my soul catch its breath before powering on. I've had to learn to not move forward when I know I'd be doing so in my own strength. I've had to reject the lie that God will cause me harm is or too demanding of me. I've had to start re-learning the sweetness of who He is. I've put boundaries in place. I've said no. And I've accepted the reactions of others however disappointing. I still have prickly cactus days and weeks. And, I still haven't fully returned to the initial wonder. I'm still pondering how to reconcile my former innocence and my new found wisdom. But, I'm not avoiding anymore. I'm breathing in freely. I'm remembering that however hurt my heart may have gotten, God always knows where the pieces are scattered. And, He always takes the time to found them with me. I'm taking the chance on believing that I do have something to offer, however imperfect and limited I may be. Those limitations may have seemed the enemy of productivity, but they are certainly the friend of a soul surrendered to the mystery of the Holy Spirit and His divine strength in my weaknesses. Slowly, the hope is returning to my heart like a warmth that swells and overtakes the chilling cold. Slowly, I am catching glimmers of Jesus in others once again and feeling that wonder of potential, the breath of God's love for someone else. I can't make it happen, and I'll only frustrate myself more if I focus on how much farther I have to go. But, I can believe in Christ's work in me, stop, and receive.
If your life resonates any of these sentiments, I welcome you to share your input or thoughts. I also recommend reading Boundaries by Henry Cloud and John Townsend. It was truly a godsend for me. And, if nothing else, for absolutely anyone, I recommend taking 15 minutes of peace, close your eyes, and listen to this song, "There is No Striving" by Rita Springer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vT1NPtw93ak
Just let yourself receive and feel loved by a Perfect Creator who made no mistakes when He made you.
Sarah
Thank you so much for writing and sharing this. I too learned this lesson of the importance of boundaries while I was overseas, and yours is the first article I've read that has captured so much of what I've learned and have been processing in the two years since I realized I needed to learn this lesson. Reading your words I found my soul saying, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Thank you so much for sharing; your words have given me courage to write and process more on this topic that is so important for the health and thriving of the Body!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for reading! I have no idea how you even found me, and I can definitely say that this is some of the most honest writing I've shared publicly. But, it was so encouraging that you were brave enough to say "me too." Do you blog? I'd love to read your thoughts and the lessons you've also learned abroad.
DeleteVelvet ashes is wonderful! That's how I found you. I do blog! Mine is over at mytreasuresindarkness.wordpress.com. I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments on my writing! And yes, I was so thankful to read your post. I've read articles and snippets from books on boundaries but nothing resonated like your writing. It really meant so much to know that someone else had been there as well and come out with similar conclusions that I had! So encouraging.
ReplyDelete