In the waning summer months of last year, I noticed myself taking a journey to a place I vowed I would never go. I realized where this road was taking me when a certain thought crossed my mind as I was stepping up to preach the first of our four weekend services. It sounded like this: I don’t even want to do this. In fact, I don’t even like this anymore.

Now hear me. I love leading. I love the Church. And I love preaching. That is why this was a red-flag moment for me.

In the months leading up to that moment, our family engaged the adoption process, and the paperwork was becoming a serious amount of work. Along with this, our church was launching new service times, and we were in the middle of remodeling our kitchen.

All these happenings, as exciting as they were, added to the weight I was already feeling in ministry. I also felt the weight of not knowing anyone else my age who was leading a church our size or with our specific challenges. I had felt the weight of staff resignations that occurred for various reasons. In short, I felt the weight of leading in an area of the country that does not have the climate, beaches, or summer breeze of an island, but in that season, seemed like a total island. And I felt like its lone castaway.

I still don’t have the right words to describe that moment and the season around it, but I think you could call it a lot of things. Burnout, fatigue, discouragement and even despondency all seem to have a part in that season’s story. I lost my will to fight. I didn’t trust the people around me. I was tired and dreaming about my next vacation.

I had grown weary of the politics, posturing and attitudes of self-preservation that abound in and now often guard the deathbeds of churches and organizations that once carried great hope and influence. I caught myself dreaming about free weekends, living in a community where I was unknown, and the advantages of every other job in the world except the one I was currently filling.

I just wanted out.

My drifting did not go unnoticed. My wife and family began urging me to seek out counseling or mentors. My messages, normally filled with hope, were now riddled with cynicism and composed of borrowed thoughts that lacked inspiration. Staff members became frustrated with my lack of vision. Every team I was leading was growing in frustration.

I withdrew into myself. I no longer felt like I knew who I was or what I was meant to do. I stared out my office window on the weekends at all the cars belonging to people who couldn’t relate to my struggles and had no idea what it was like to sit in my chair. The reality is, I was hurting. And I didn’t know whom I could trust to help me.

In that season, I remember saying often, “I know there is a road out of this emotional pain and fog, but right now I can’t see it. It’s elusive to me.”

I did a lot of things in the following months to find that road, and I hope that by sharing my experience I can help you find your road out. Some of my methods worked and some didn’t. Some things that worked for me won’t work for you, and that’s OK. I just hope you will trust God to show you the road out of your personal wilderness.

I Confided in Others

I made sure those closest to me knew I felt lost. My wife and friends could not totally understand the place I was in, the pressures I felt, or the reasons I was struggling to just “pull myself up by my bootstraps,” but I was intentional about making sure they knew I was struggling.

I have always understood isolation to be the silent killer of leadership and influence, so I worked hard to be transparent even when I felt I was acting like a victim or simply whining. I tried to remain transparent even when I wanted to be alone or to keep my struggles private.

It’s important to say I didn’t confide in everyone, and I put on a good face for hundreds of people. There are some moments where I wish I had been more transparent and others where I wish I had held back. I broke down in front of both my elder board and my staff.

The elder board was appropriate, but the vulnerability in front of my staff, while meaningful for some, was damaging because others began to fear my condition or tiptoe around me in an effort to protect me. It was appropriate for my elder board to worry about protecting me, but my staff should not have carried that burden.

If you are in the wilderness, decide who your friends are. Let them get close enough to know what you are walking through. Spare others the trauma of seeing you suffer. I remember reaching out to one friend and mentor who urged me to persevere. His urging reminded me of another season where a spiritual father of mine said, “Josh, you are too called to quit.” Let those around you know you feel lost so they can help direct you back.

I Sought Professional Counseling

Counseling is something I always talked about doing, yet probably had no real intention of ever actually doing. Why? Counseling sounds expensive. Counseling brings up some serious introspection and history that a lot of us would probably not care to remember.

However, the danger of being a person with influence, power or control is that your position may be protecting you from having to face your own brokenness. Yet the reality is that those you lead are dealing with your brokenness, whether you are willing to deal with it or not.

It’s important to mention that at a certain point in the middle of my counseling, I felt an incredible urge to quit. I began to question whether it was actually helping and wondered whether so much introspection was actually causing more damage. Through those moments, I came to grips with the fact that counseling and emotional health are endurance runs, not sprints.

Let those around you know you feel lost so they can help direct you back.

The road out can be long and filled with detours. I began to realize that the goal of counseling is to gain tools for the long run, not just to vent or seek quick results.

I still visit with my counselor, and I honestly believe every leader could use a few sessions. If you are a leader, consider asking your church or pastor to pick up the bill. If that’s not a possibility, perhaps your health insurance plan covers part of the cost. At the very least, share with your elder board or district leadership about your current condition. Rely on those who are committed to your longevity and spiritual health to help you find your road out.

I Tried Medication

I have some close friends who have benefited greatly from a small dose of anti-anxiety medication. I will just be upfront and say this didn’t work for me. I believe I was dealing more with situational depression or anxiety than clinical depression or constant undercurrents of anxiety. Medication exacerbated issues in my life and marriage because it made me more indifferent, cold and apathetic than I had already become.

Even though medication was not helpful for me, it may be exactly what you need. Here are a few words of advice from my experience. Start with a low dose. Have open and honest conversations with your doctor and counselor along the way. Have honest conversations with your family as well. You may be feeling great because of medication, but those around you may be suffering from its effects.

Medication may be a form of God’s healing in your life, especially in a season where it is difficult to control or differentiate your emotions. I am glad I tried it.

I Reorganized My Work Life

Throughout my journey, I came to the realization that our church leadership structure was not sustainable. I was poorly managing my energy, I needed to share the load with those around me, and I needed to rediscover what my actual job was. So, I set out to remedy these issues.

First, I took a fresh look at our leadership structure. My eventual response was to shift our staff to an executive team structure rather than carrying the leadership burden alone. This has paid massive dividends — not only in my life, both personally and professionally — but also in our church’s decision-making efficiency.

If you don’t have a staff team or an executive team, ask your elder board or key leaders to help you carry the load. Empower them, while focusing more exclusively on what only you can do for your church or organization.

Next, I stopped managing my time and started managing my energy. I put a lot of thought into what times of the day I’m most effective as a creative, a decision maker, or a relational leader, and I now leave space in my calendar to lead by my energy level rather than by appointments.

Lastly, I rediscovered my actual job as a church leader. A powerful question for every leader to consider is, What can I do for my organization that only I can do? Or, What am I currently doing that I could empower someone else to do?

I’m not talking about dumping all your undesirable tasks into someone else’s lap, but what makes you irreplaceable? What has God actually called you to do, and how can you become great at it?

In short, I had to refocus on what only I could do for the church. I delegated or ended everything else. I was, and am, healthier for it.

I Took Time to Rest

Rest comes in many forms: vacations, sabbaticals, a day off or engaging in self-care by doing something you enjoy. To stay healthy, leaders need time off: a day off every week or an extended time off sometime throughout the year. Never taking a sabbath or a vacation used to be something people boasted about, but that pace is downright foolish.

My wife and I acknowledged that our pace was becoming unhealthy, and we made an intentional decision to rest. Time away from the office reminded me that pastoring is not who I am. Pastoring is what I do.

I actually prefer it when someone says, “This is Josh; he’s my pastor,” rather than, “This is Pastor Josh.” If you’re a key leader in your church, it’s especially important for you to remember that life and ministry go on even when you’re not there. In fact, your absence may create a vacuum of leadership that will allow others to develop confidence and demonstrate their own leadership ability.

Hopefully, your organization will embrace moments of rest for you, knowing it’s a spiritual principle, but also an investment into the health of your whole family. Your staff and church need and deserve healthy leadership. Take time to rest. Your ministry and leadership depend on it.

I Rediscovered Journaling

A powerful weapon I rediscovered in my season of difficulty came in the form of my journal. I filled it with verses, prayers, confessions, poems and desperate pleas. One night, I read the story of Jesus sending some demon-possessed pigs into the sea.

With worship music playing, I buried my face in a pillow while typing these words in my journal: “I break the spirit of depression and anxiety and fear. I cast that cloud out over the seas. Let it drown in the waters.” I walked into our master bedroom and wrote those words on our prayer mirror. They became hope in the middle of my storm.

My journal has always been a powerful weapon in my faith. In my most difficult moments, victory often comes through words written on the tablet of my heart and transferred to a tablet of paper. Our journals give us records of God’s faithfulness to us. Having a record of how God helped you in a past season may help you through your current season.

The solemn reality is that there probably isn’t a quick fix to some of the issues we face internally. Yet God allows those seasons to produce something in us rather quickly that may otherwise take many years to produce.

If you are lost in the wilderness and looking for a road out, remember that “nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight” (Hebrews 4:13). He sees you, and He sees your journey. He will lead you out of your wilderness. Furthermore, He will likely use the people around you to do it.

Remember, you are too called to quit.

This article originally appeared in the September/October 2018 edition of Influence magazine.