The Essentialness of Sabbaticalling

“A golden light fell on them from the left. He thought it was the sun. He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion...It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Horse and his Boy

I had the privilege and opportunity to take a three month sabbatical this past summer.  It was a beautifully terrible experience!  This may sound like a funny description but it's the best way to express the overwhelming experience of unhurried, extended, undistracted time with Jesus.  If you’re a Narnia fan like me, you have read, and reread, the passages by Lewis that describe some of the intimate moments the characters have with Aslan. Like this one quoted above from The Horse and His Boy, Lewis captures the beauty, wonder and joy mingled with terror, wildness, power and disorientation of intimacy with God.  Another example is a line in The Last Battle from a character named Emeth, who was a foreigner who had never heard of Aslan (the Jesus figure) until he met him at the end of his life. He says, ​​“I have been wandering to find him and my happiness is so great that it even weakens me like a wound. And this is the marvel of marvels, that he called me Beloved, me who am but as a dog” about his encounter with Aslan.  This is what sabbatical so uniquely provided; space and time to encounter Jesus in a way that “weakens me like a wound” and reminded me of “the marvel of marvels, that he calls me Beloved!”

Rhythms of Rest and Running on Fumes 

My wife, Kate, and I have a fun tradition when we’re on a road trip as a family. I get in the zone and start driving. I’ve got my own internal goal set of how often we should stop and how quickly we should arrive. This goal orientation to our road trip, along with the other normal distractions that come with having the whole family in the car, creates a tunnel vision in which I often ignore the gas gauge.  Once, Kate or I realize that we are running low on gas, my response is to see it as a challenge.  “Ooo, I wonder how close to empty we can get before I actually have to get off to get gas?” runs through my head.  Of course, I’m the only one of us who finds this fun.  For Kate, it’s actually anxiety producing and anger inducing… and for my kids, who wish we had stopped at least a few exits earlier for the bathroom, it’s just annoying.

Why are we tempted to run right up to our limits?  What drives us toward the tunnel vision that ignores how much gas is in the tank?  

When I first started planning for a sabbatical, it truly was timing and best practices. Wiser people have emphasized the importance of a sabbatical every 7 years or so.  We emphasize Sabbath and sabbatical to the hundreds of ministry leaders we work with on a regular basis. At ServingLeaders, we believe that our faithfulness to Sabbath is one of the key litmus indicators of spiritual health and ministry stewardship. So, yes, its time for a sabbatical and I planned one, without feeling particularly exhausted or in desperate need for rest. The key question: Was I not feeling tired or desperate for sabbatical because I didn’t need it or because I had trained myself to ignore that gauge and keep my foot firmly pressed on the gas?

By the time I rounded the corner, about 9 months later, on my planned sabbatical, I was running on fumes.  I would have been happy to ignore it had I not had plans to take this sabbatical which caused me to really notice that the gauge was compromisingly low.  Had I not had the planned sabbatical lined up, I probably would have pressed forward just assuming that I can simply push through the exhaustion. Like an ignorant driver, who’s focused on the destination and isn’t checking any of the instruments in the car, I would have just kept driving over the speed limit and getting closer to “E” without paying much attention. 

Why do we let ourselves get into this position? More than that, why do some of us find it to be a fun game; an engaging challenge to see how fast we can go over our limit to see how long we can go beyond our limit?

As my wife likes to remind me when I’m driving close to empty… “this is a fool’s game!” In our lives, we’re surrounded by other “fools” playing the same type of game. Actually, for most of us, even and especially in ministry, there are others around us that cheer us on as we push beyond our limits. There’s a certain pride and a special kind of selfishness that drives us beyond our limits. And there’s some hidden idols, subconsciously operating in our hearts; idols that motivate our desire to be limitless. Maybe we desire to prove to ourselves or others our worth, value, and impact.

For many of us in ministry leadership, there is a deeper idolatry of ministry fruitfulness, taking ourselves beyond our limits in the name of sacrificially following Jesus. Without giving any consideration of the stewardship to which Jesus calls us. God does call us to be living sacrifices but I don’t believe that means ignoring the stewardship of our calling.  It's actually the reverse.  Living in surrender to the supremacy of Christ means repenting from our idols of supernatural productivity, ministry fruitfulness and limitless service. Stewarding our lives and ministries by God’s well-designed plans. 

When we are not good stewards, we head down a path of burnout and vulnerability to failure. Soul fatigue leads to lapses in moral judgment. We quickly become bitter and distant to Jesus and to those we serve. Without even realizing it, we can slip into  an “older brother” dutifulness which steals our joy and chokes out the fruit we seek to control. (Lk 15:28-30) In ministry leadership, soul fatigue can lead to “mission fatigue,” a questioning of our calling, and mission fatigue can become relationship fatigue. This fatigue not only affects relationships with the people that are hard to work with or be with, but it impacts relationships with the ones you love to most, those closest to you, even and especially God. 

So Why a Sabbatical? And Why Now? 

Because we’re tired?  Yes and no.  Ideally a sabbatical would be the culmination of healthy rhythms of work and rest in our life. Sabbatical serves both as a work/rest pattern reset and in many ways, hopefully, feels like the next part of a long range rhythm of work and rest for the sake of worship and stewardship within our life and ministry. 

The big why of sabbatical, first and foremost, is the question of why Sabbath at all.  Sabbath is a resting but it's a resting-with-a-purpose or “active-resting”.  In the creation account, each day involved a moment of reflection, presence and delight at the end.  When God rested on the seventh day it was to cease and to delight!  This is the rhythm of work, rest, reflection and delight that is patterned for us by God in the creation account. The goal of Sabbath is a full day of rest, reflection and delight in God’s presence.  It is in this pattern, this rhythm of our days, weeks and years that we see the fullness of how we live our whole lives as living sacrifices of worship. We know that a life of worship involves surrender to God’s call in whatever way we are called to follow him and serve.  If that is true then Sabbath is the other side of that life of worship.  A calling to unhurried presence with the Lord through patient reflection and delight!

If you’ve heard the quote "Your religion is what you do with your solitude," attributed to Archbishop William Temple, you could reverse it to say “hurry sickness” is a spiritual sickness that Sabbath is the remedy for.  Sabbath is, and I’ll guess has always been, counter-cultural. And unfortunately “hurry sickness” can look really good on the outside and so it becomes a primary strategy for hiding from solitude. 

Slowing down for unhurried presence and unveiled (naked) delight is a dangerous proposition to our controlling pride and our hidden shame. This is why, especially for busy ministry leaders, Sabbath is so easy to dismiss and a sabbatical feels dangerous. 

Sabbatical is Not the Easy Path 

Sabbatical was more difficult than I expected.  It was really hard to wrap up and let go of some of my work… especially the things that I had deceived myself into thinking I was indispensable in. We are really good at self-deception. I had been telling myself and others that it was going to be great and that I can delegate everything and everything will transition smoothly.  But even in the transition to my sabbatical I was surprised by my temptation to “make it happen” .. to have a “successful” sabbatical.  To force my heart further along as if the sabbatical was another job I had of forcing myself to rest and heal and forcing God to be present to me the way I wanted.  To stop striving and practice surrender was an important

What I learned was that Detoxing from hurry is painfully essential. To experience true Sabbath in our work and rest, we must resist the “tyranny of the urgent.” In a world of constant notifications, news, and noise, we have to fight for solitude and sacred space — to listen for the Lord’s voice and follow the Spirit’s leading.

I also learned that our hearts (my heart) need more time and space than we feel like we can afford, to open up and be heard. The deeper places of our souls are rarely accessed without extended silence and intentional, Spirit-led reflection. And when they are accessed, they need to be processed slowly and safely — before our loving Savior and alongside trusted friends or wise counselors.  

A lot of my sabbatical felt chaotic and raw.  A lot of emotions came flooding in without a clear sense of relief. Through my coach and a guided retreat, I was able to slow down and get curious about these raw, newly accessed emotions; to ask questions of myself about what is beneath my desire to control and force change in my heart. I was able to ask the Lord for his presence and comfort in the chaos and patiently wait with him. 

And finally, the Lord made it painfully obvious that transformation comes in God’s timing. The renewal we long for happens not by force of will or by the perfect formula of devotions but by “steeping in” the gracious embrace of Jesus as he applies the balm of the gospel to the most tender, hidden parts of our lives — even those we’d rather keep untouched. The Spirit moves in his own perfect timing bringing care, healing, and hope. 

As I returned to work, I had two concerns. First, the rest I experienced that cleared out much of the hurry-sickness was so refreshing that I worried about how quickly I would allow that same hurry-sickness to creep in. The moments of intimacy with the Lord that this time had afforded me were so sweet, that I reentered afraid that they would get squeezed out in the “real world.”  Second, I felt insecure about reentering “unfinished;” incomplete and desperate for more transformational time with Jesus.  As if a sabbatical is the only place and space that “real” transformation can take place. 

Now six month post-sabbatical, I can see that a sabbatical wasn’t a stand-alone time that I now have to feel shut out from, but it was, and is, a marker of God’s faithfulness and delight that will mark and mold the rest of my days in the ordinary rhythms of work and rest.  How he met me during my sabbatical has brought fresh dependence, focus and delight. The truth is I will continue to struggle with hurry sickness and will always be a work in progress, but my time in sabbatical allowed me to see myself, in a fresh way, through His eyes as His beloved, even as the mess that I am. As His beloved, work has become  “sabbath work” (the topic of “sabbath work” needs to be a whole other blog post) and it has made the weekly times of sabbath rest a place of hope and joy that bring deeper rest and expand my capacity for following Him in my calling.   

Change and Transition: A Normal Part of Life.

copyright Caroline Kishbaugh 2025

I have faced many changes and transitions during my 40 years of serving overseas.  Cultural adaptation, new locations, new ministry roles, and lifespan changes are a few of the things I’ve experienced.   Moving back to the USA has made me aware that you don’t have to leave your home country to encounter change and transition. Let’s face it, they are a normal part of life from childhood through adulthood.

Recently my little grandson started pre-school.  That was a huge transition for him.  For the first few weeks he would have meltdowns each time his mother picked him up. He was overwhelmed.  Someone once said, change is what happens on the outside, but transition is what takes place on the inside.  Over the years not only have I faced my own internal struggles with change, but I’ve had the privilege of accompanying others on their journeys.  Here are some things I have experienced and learned along the way.

Transition doesn’t really start the moment the new begins, (like getting on the airplane, the first day at a new job, the moment the baby is born) but when you know it’s going to happen; often long before the event. 

There are different phases in walking through transition. The first one is often called the leaving phase.  I use the image of a hot air balloon to describe the transition process.  The moment a decision is made, or awareness of an upcoming event happens, it’s natural to begin to disengage. In the leaving phase you begin to untie the ropes that hold your balloon on the ground.  Saying goodbye to different aspects of the familiar and all that you will be leaving behind is important.  Untying the ropes of present roles, relationships and familiar things will more than likely start a grieving process.  With every change there will be anticipated losses. We knew that moving overseas meant saying goodbye to family and dear friends.   The moments at the airport were often the hardest.  Waving goodbye at the security check always left me with a deep pain in my stomach. I anticipated grief. But what I didn’t anticipate was the many goodbyes I would have to say on the field when co-workers left.  Even though they were the ones leaving, it still represented change for those of us that they left behind. I had to acknowledge the loss and realize I was grieving too.  When the good-byes accumulate it is so easy to build walls to protect us from further pain, making us less apt to invest deeply in the lives of others.  That’s why it’s so important to intentionally give space to admit the pain of loss.

During the leaving phase it’s important to build a RAFT.  RAFT stands for reconciliation, affirmation, farewells and think destination.  When you take the time to reconcile past hurts, to affirm the good takeaways, to intentionally say good-bye to special people, things and the familiar, and to think about different aspects of your future, you will be better equipped to face the coming new realities. 

I think reconciliation is vital in the leaving phase.  We have had the opportunity to debrief many cross-cultural workers over the years, listening to their stories and hearing of their celebrations and hardships.  It’s interesting to see how many times people move on to the next phase of ministry without reconciling past hurts, making unspoken vows to protect from future pain.  Vows like, “I won’t trust a leader again.”  “I prefer to work alone rather than on a team.” During the debriefing process often, these vows come to the surface and the wounds are addressed.  

Why do I think affirmation is important?  When we take the time to appreciate all that we have learned about God, ourselves, and others it makes the grief we feel have purpose.  Why would we grieve over people and things that have no value to us?  I love to give children who are leaving the field a picture of an empty moving van. I ask them to draw pictures of places, people, foods, and events that they never want to forget. I tell them that no one can take these precious memories away.  They can affirm the good and leave with a grateful heart. Farewells are so important, but they are not easy. When relationships run deep the farewell parties can be times of tears and good-bye hugs. They can bring a sweet closure to a significant time in life.  After a farewell party, I still remember tearfully waving goodbye to the group of our French neighbors standing on the banks of the village road.  That memory is imprinted in my mind forever. 

In the leaving phase our minds often lead us to think about the future.  It feels like you have one foot in the present and the other foot in the future.  As it drew closer to our final days in France, I found myself feeling guilty for the times I spent thinking about the future instead of feeling sad for the people I would leave behind. I didn’t want to share my excitement about living nearer to our children and grandchildren in the States.  We started looking online at potential houses in Columbus and discussed what kind of church community we needed, but rarely talked about it with our teammates. I didn’t want them to think I didn’t care.  While I was sad to leave, I had to face the fact that it was also ok to look with excitement to the future.

 Think back to the image of the hot air balloon. Sometimes we don’t have the luxury of slowly untying the ropes.  It’s like someone takes a hatchet and severs all the ropes in a moment and you are airborne. We have had the honor of debriefing workers who have had to quickly pack their bags and evacuate their country of service due to political unrest.  Much like Joseph they didn’t have the chance to prepare for the transition.  On the very same day he went to meet his brothers he was sold as a slave and taken to Egypt. It’s still vital to take the time even after the unexpected event to reflect and process what happened. God knew Joseph was thrust into a new journey that day; and as he was with Joseph, God will be there throughout our transitions, comforting us in our grief, offering us grace, and giving us direction.

The second phase of transition is often called the wilderness.  Now the hot air balloon is airborne.  You may not know where you will land.  We often use a chart with words to describe this phase.  It’s not unusual for people to identify with phrases like, “special knowledge without use, lack of structure, must initiate, and feelings of isolation.”  In this phase it is normal for our capacities to shrink because we are in a survival mode.   We have a limited energy for new relationships and behaviors. After we finished our term in Haiti, we spent two years wondering where we would go next.  Those were some of the darkest days of our journey.  I just had our second child.  Carl was busy with seminary studies.  I felt isolated at home with two small children in a new city.  Knowing we would probably leave again we were hesitant to develop new relationships.  Thankfully a loving church community embraced us in those challenging days and ministered to our needs.  What a gift of grace!   

 Connie Befus, who wrote a manual for missionaries called the Sojourner’s Workbook: A Guide to Thriving, states we must learn to adapt in several different domains during transition.  It impacts us relationally, intellectually, physically, and behaviorally.  Have you ever noticed how physically tired you become during a time of transition or how much easier it is to get sick?  We often find ourselves less apt to meet new people and maintain old relationships.  Our minds are absorbing new skills and learning new behaviors, so we find ourselves mentally shutting down when it gets to be too much. Our identity can be called into question. God can use this as an opportunity to help us better anchor our identity in him. When I started learning French during our first term, I am sure I sounded like a toddler babbling out new words.  Simply knowing how to ask for stamps at the post office was monumental.  I wanted to say to people, I’m really not simple minded, I was an effective teacher, I led small groups, and wrote papers in college on complicated issues. I had to settle my heart that my identity was not based on my language competence but on how Jesus saw me and how He valued my efforts to serve Him through the tedious task of learning a new language. 

 People do best when they realize all this wilderness craziness is normal and acknowledge how God is with them every step of the way.  A struggle can appear when we try to find a simple explanation for the complicated transition process.  I have seen people blame their wilderness craziness on their leader, the new culture, their church, a co-worker, a spouse etc. While some aspects of their disappointment may be merited, it is often out of proportion.  It is much healthier to normalize what we are feeling and embrace grace than try and find a scapegoat.

Finally, our hot air balloon settles on the ground, and we start to tie down our ropes once again.  But even in this entering phase we still must initiate new relationships, face uncertainty, and take risks.  I have found that people do best when they recognize and celebrate each milestone: A year after we arrived in France, I needed to pass a French driver’s test to get a viable license. That required professional driving lessons.  The lessons were expensive, and the instructors were taught to humiliate their students to get the best results.  I didn’t find that style of instruction very helpful. Needless to say, it was probably one of the most stressful parts of adapting to France.  The day I passed my exam, I sang praises to Jesus all the way home in the car. Carl knew by the way I walked up the sidewalk to the front steps that I had passed. We celebrated the victory that night by going to McDonalds!  I often encourage first time missionaries to start a milestone journal.  Every so often when they get discouraged and think they are not making progress in cultural adaptation or language acquisition, I encourage them to look back over all the milestones they have passed and celebrate them.  Taking time to celebrate is a way of showing gratitude for all God has done and will continue to do. While the changes and transitions in our lives may be challenging, they are also great opportunities for personal growth. They can nurture our ability to empathize with and encourage others facing transition. Perhaps this article has done that for you!

When Truth Falls: Why The Crisis of Integrity in Public Life?

copyright Dave Wiedis 2025 originally published on Real Clear Religion

Recently, Michael Tait — former lead singer of the Newsboys — publicly confessed to a pattern of self-destruction. He stated, “Recent reports of my reckless and destructive behavior, including drug and alcohol abuse and sexual activity are sadly, largely true.” Not long ago, a well-known and respected pastor publicly confessed to grievous sin: betrayal, deception, and moral failure.

Sadly, these stories are not unique. From pulpits to platforms, we’ve watched trusted leaders — pastors, mentors, politicians, media personalities — collapse under the weight of compromised integrity.

And the crisis is headline news. 

CNN’s Jake Tapper, in Original Sin, detailed the cover-up of President Joe Biden’s cognitive decline by White House insiders. But one must ask: what motivates a prominent journalist to pen such a work? Is it a cry for truth in a climate of deception — or an attempt to distance himself from the very cover-up he helped protect?

Meanwhile, Jill Biden continues to vigorously defend her husband, blatantly disregarding the obvious reality of the former President’s serious cognitive failings. Is she motivated by sheer loyalty or did she enable a tragic spectacle that placed the nation at risk?

During violent ICE protests in Los Angeles, Rep. Maxine Waters and Mayor Karen Bass labeled them “peaceful” — even as chunks of concrete were hurled at police. Did they not see the violence, or did something deeper compel them to protect their cause?

And across the aisle: Rep. George Santos lied about his heritage, education, and credentials. Gov. Mark Sanford disappeared from office, later confessing he’d secretly flown to Argentina for an affair.

These aren't isolated incidents — they're part of a broader unraveling in our religious, political, and cultural spheres — and we’re left with a haunting question:

How does this keep happening? It’s easy to point fingers. But a wiser response is more introspective:

What drives us to self-deception — and then, public deception?

At the root of both personal and public collapse is the same issue: our ruling passions.

In The Spiritually Healthy Leader: Finding Freedom From Self-Sabotage, I explain that moral failure is rarely a sudden plunge — it’s a slow drift. At the root is what I call a ruling passion: a dominant inner desire that subtly, yet powerfully, governs our choices.

It could be:

• The need to be respected.

• The fear of being irrelevant.

• The drive to control outcomes.

• The craving for love.

• The hunger for approval or justice.

These aren’t always bad things. But when they rise above truth, righteousness, or faithfulness — they become idols. And idols always demand a sacrifice.

We’ve seen this over and over again:

• Journalists choosing sensationalism over objectivity.

• Politicians choosing spin over transparency.

• Ministry leaders choosing popularity over accountability.

Ruling Passions: The Real Battlefield

In our culture, we tend to gauge credibility by charisma, competence, productivity, or ideology. But true integrity isn’t revealed by what someone does in public — it’s shaped by what rules their heart in private. A “ruling passion” is a deep, often hidden desire that governs choices, shapes responses, and fuels ambition. It might be the hunger for power, relevance, legacy, admiration, or even justice, all of which can be good things. But when they become ultimate things — more important than truth, humility, or righteousness — they become idols of the heart.

This is why good people — faithful pastors, seasoned politicians, even godly spouses — make catastrophic decisions. They follow a passion that feels right but ultimately betrays truth.

Many in public leadership or ministry begin with noble goals. But somewhere along the way, their motives subtly shift. It becomes about winning. Preserving influence. Controlling the narrative. Avoiding shame. Or just feeling better. And when these, or other motivations replace truth, leaders don’t just lose their way — they invite collapse.

When Good Things Become Ultimate

Tim Keller wisely said,

“Sin isn’t only doing bad things — it is more fundamentally making good things into ultimate things.”

This is what we’re watching unfold on the world stage.

A journalist may start with a desire to speak truth to power — but may be ruled by a deeper longing to be recognized as the conscience of a corrupt age. A political spouse may start with a motivation of love — but be subtly ruled by the need to preserve their image, even at personal or national cost. A senator may say he cares about justice — but be driven by revenge, pride, or the need for applause.

Between what is said and what is actually true in the heart may indicate a vast disparity. And that divergence is where the collapse begins.

Peter’s Political Moment

This tale is as old as time. The Apostle Peter had what we might call a “crucial moment” in Galatians 2. He lived with Jesus, knew and preached the gospel, performed miracles, and had direct revelation from God. But under social pressure, he caved and deeply offended those under his pastoral charge because he feared public disapproval (Galatians 2).

His ruling passion, self-protection, hijacked his principles.

Paul confronted him publicly. Why? Because Peter’s actions didn’t just reflect personal weakness — they corrupted gospel truth. When our ruling passions aren’t submitted to Christ, they eventually sabotage our relationships, careers and lives. 

So here’s the question for every leader — senator, pastor, journalist, president, or voter:

What rules your heart?

That’s the real question — for all of us. Not just: What do you believe? But: What drives you?

Is it a passion for truth — or for winning? Is it love for Christ — or fear of irrelevance? Is it service to others — or hunger for control? Is it gospel loyalty — or platform preservation?

Is your worldview driven by Scripture — or your tribe’s talking points?

We’re witnessing a cultural unraveling not just because of differing policies — but because of the collapse of character. Leaders lie, spin, and posture — not because they’re inherently evil — but because their ruling passions have become disordered and unsurrendered to the Lordship of Jesus.

We live in a culture where truth is often a tool, not a foundation. Where both sides lie. Where media, politicians, and even spiritual leaders bend facts to preserve influence. But we cannot bow to the Lordship of Christ while also bowing to our ruling passions. They are mutually exclusive.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind.” —Luke 10:27

Let Christ alone — not fear, not self-protection, not spin — be your ruling passion.

The Pressing Need For Mental Health Resources For Missionaries

Copyright Jabez Yeo 2025

For those of you who are in some kind of vocational or lay ministry, or who have family members or friends in ministry, take a moment to recall the typical seminary graduation ceremony. Everyone is dressed in regalia and smiling, excited to have completed four years of intense studies. As the last graduate walks across the stage, the president asks for a show of hands to inquire who will be entering pastoral ministry. To your surprise and shock, only half of the graduates raise their hands. The other half will be returning to their initial vocation despite the immense amount of time, money, and effort spent in obtaining their degrees.

The above scenario may be surprising, but sadly, this reality occurs regularly across the mission field as well. According to the Narramore Christian Foundation, almost 50% of all missionaries fail to remain on the field after their first term (i.e., 3-5 years)! This is also the average length of time required to learn a language well enough to contextualize the gospel. Additionally, almost 8,000 missionaries leave the field annually due to preventable reasons that, if counseling were readily available, counseling can address (i.e. interpersonal conflict, mental health conditions such as anxiety and depression, burnout, marriage and family difficulties, etc.). 

In light of all the time, money, and effort the global church invests in training and sending missionaries, these statistics provide a sober picture of the difficulty in retaining and sustaining cross-cultural workers. Without these cross-cultural workers remaining in the field, gospel witness and presence in many unreached areas are being lost or at best, stalled (Romans 10:13-15). 

Jabez Yeo has served faithfully as a staff counselor with ServingLeaders for three years. As a third-culture kid and Asian-American, Jabez has the passion, experience, and insight into many of the challenges missionaries and their families face while living and serving cross-culturally. Jabez has a heart for global missions, as well as experience providing counseling for ministry leaders, including missionaries, at all of the  stages in their ministry journey (i.e. candidacy, field assignment, home assignment/debriefing). 

Given his passions and desire to serve God with his unique giftings, Jabez and his wife decided to move to Southeast Asia where they intend to bring God’s healing to missionaries who are serving in that region. Our team at ServingLeaders is encouraged by the Yeos’ passionate heart for missionaries, and their willingness to make the incredible sacrifices necessary to move across the world. And we send them warmly on to their new mission and home. 

ServingLeaders has a team of counselors who are experienced and skilled to come alongside missionaries by providing counseling, debriefings, training, and mediations, you can check out those specifically here. If you or anyone you know would like more information about any of our services please feel free to reach out here! 

Why Do We Keep Failing and Falling?

copyright Dave Wiedis 2025 originally published on New Growth Press’s blog

A few months ago, a well-known and deeply respected pastor, author, and teacher posted a heartbreaking confession on his social media:

“It is with a shattered heart that I write this letter. I have sinned grievously against the Lord, against my wife, my family, and against countless numbers of you by having a sinful relationship with a woman not my wife.”

“I am deeply broken that I have betrayed and deceived my wife, devastated my children, brought shame to the name of Christ, reproach upon His church, and harm to many ministries.”

Sadly, this wasn’t an isolated case. Every generation of believers has seen once-trusted spiritual leaders fall—pastors, mentors, ministry heads—bringing heartbreak, confusion, and sometimes even the loss of faith to the body of Christ. Whether through sexual misconduct, financial scandal, narcissistic leadership, or spiritual abuse, these failures ripple through communities with devastating effect. The problem is so severe several states, such as Texas, have enacted laws criminalizing sexual misconduct by clergy, which can include “any sexualized behavior (verbal or physical) on the part of a religious leader toward a person under his or her spiritual care.”

So we’re left asking: How does this keep happening?

Some might respond—“That could never be me.”

But a wiser response is more profound: Could this happen to me? What resides in the deep recesses of my own heart that might lead to self-sabotage? Why do so many who love God still find themselves trapped in sin, stuck in shame, and repeating patterns they long to break? Is true heart transformation truly possible?

These are painful, courageous questions. Answering them begins with recognizing a deeper issue beneath our behaviors: the ruling passions of our hearts.

WHAT DRIVES US?

Many believers gauge their spiritual health by superficial signs: consistent prayer, Bible reading, church involvement, or theological knowledge. These are all good things—but they don’t necessarily reflect the true condition of the heart.

Over years of counseling ministry leaders, reflecting on public failures, and examining my own weaknesses and sinful tendencies, I’ve come to believe that spiritual health is more accurately measured by what truly rules our inner life—our “ruling passions.”

A ruling passion is a deep, sometimes unconscious desire that governs your decisions, shapes your responses, and fuels your pursuits. It may be a hunger for affirmation, success, safety, comfort, control, respect, or belonging. Often, these desires aren’t inherently wrong.  But when they become ultimate—more important than obeying or loving God and others—they become functional idols.

THE REAL BATTLE WITHIN

Most Christian leaders believe they are most passionate about Christ and His lordship. But if you peel back the layers, what often drives their decisions is something else entirely:

• “I will be liked.”

• “I will be in control.”

• “I will avoid pain.”

• “I will be admired.”

• “I will make an impact.”

• “I will be respected”

• “I will be unique.”

These inner vows—which often develop early in life through painful or pleasurable experiences—guide thousands of our daily choices. They also foundational to developing “meta-narratives” for our lives.  And when these ruling passions take the throne of our hearts, they quietly dethrone Jesus—no matter what our mouths may say.

Timothy Keller put it this way:

“Sin isn’t only doing bad things—it is more fundamentally making good things into ultimate things.”

That’s the essence of idolatry: not always loving the wrong things but loving good things too much—more than God. When we build our lives around anything other than Christ, even ministry itself, we walk the path of self-destruction.

A BIBLICAL CASE STUDY: PETER

Consider the Apostle Peter. Few people had a more impressive spiritual resume—personally called by Jesus, one of the three disciples closest to Jesus and a leader among the disciples, a powerful preacher at Pentecost, a miracle worker, even given direct revelation from God instructing him not to discriminate against Gentile believers (Acts 10). Yet in Galatians 2, Peter compromises his integrity and the gospel itself by withdrawing from Gentile believers out of fear.

Why? Because his ruling passion—self-protection—overpowered his calling.

Despite all his spiritual experiences and knowledge, Peter’s fear of judgment led him to sin against the Gentile believers, offending them deeply, creating deep division, and betraying the very gospel he preached. His abject failure shows that even the most devoted can fall when their passions are not fully surrendered to the lordship of Christ.

WHAT RULES YOUR HEART?

So let’s bring it home:

• What are you most passionate about—really?

• Where is there a gap between what you say you believe and what actually drives your choices?

• Are your longings for affirmation, power, impact, connection, security, or control quietly steering your life—even your ministry?

We may tell ourselves we’re building a church to serve the community, but deep down, we might just be chasing approval or admiration. We may say we’re training leaders for God’s kingdom, but we might be driven by a need to feel powerful or indispensable. We may say we are committed to the gospel, but we might be driven by a ruling passion to get relief from loneliness. Even our best intentions can become idols when they replace the centrality of Christ in our affections.

THE PATH TO TRANSFORMATION

Our hearts are battlegrounds of competing passions. The solution isn’t to suppress our desires but to reorder and redeem them. That begins with surrender.

God calls us to live coram Deo—before his face, fully exposed and fully loved. He invites us to name our ruling passions, bring them into the light, and place them under Christ’s loving lordship. This is not a one-time event, but a daily process of yielding and realigning our hearts.

We must learn to live as Jesus lived—with a heart fully submitted to the Father. Jesus’s ruling passion was obedience to God’s will and love for us. For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, not for self-preservation or power, but for the glory of God and the redemption of our wayward hearts.

OUR ONE TRUE PASSION

Ultimately, the only way to overcome this perennial problem of failing and falling is to make Jesus our ruling passion.

Let your deepest desire be to know him, love him, and reflect him. As we grow in awareness of our internal idols, let us respond not with shame, but with grace-fueled honesty and humble surrender. Surround yourself with a community that will lovingly hold you accountable and point you back to Christ.

When Jesus rules our hearts—above every longing for acceptance, success, impact, approval, or control—then we will walk in true freedom. We may passionately pursue many things in life, but if Christ is not our main pursuit, we will always be vulnerable to failure.

But when he is at the center of our lives, we will stand. Not perfectly. Not without struggle. But with hearts increasingly shaped by his love, and lives that reflect his glory.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind.” —Luke 10:27

Let that be your ruling passion.

Loving Well Through Mediation

copyright Tucker Else 2025

“‘But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven.’” – Matthew 5.44-45

Jesus’ call is a hard one. Personally, I have a hard enough time loving people I love, much less my enemies. Why would he command us (and it is most definitely a command) to do this? There is a very practical reason why we are told to love our enemies. How well does retaliation usually work? Ask Israel and Palestine. Ask the Capulets and Montagues. Ask participants of messy divorces. Evil for evil and violence for violence and anger for anger only builds evil, violence, and anger. It results in both parties bowing down to the god of being right, or the power of human might. The only way to disarm the power of evil is to not play the game. But, ultimately, it is not the utilitarian nature of active love that compels us to follow Christ’s teaching. We’re not merely called to “just get along.” We’re called to conquer the world.  

And how did God conquer? Through brute force? Violence? Destruction? A rhetorical, argumentative beat-down? No, though in his perfect justice that would have certainly been his wont. It was actually through the sacrificial death of His Son. It turned everything upside down. Life through death. Victory through defeat. Christians are called to follow their humble King, Jesus. We are called to proactively love those who set themselves against us. Because that’s exactly what he had done for us. While he was hung on the cross, he prayed “Father forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing.” Paul writes in Romans 5.8 that “While we were yet sinners Christ died for us.” So, we are called to imitate God as we interact with our enemies. More than just refusing to retaliate (mercy, which is not giving people what they deserve), we are called to love (grace, which is giving people what they don’t deserve). C.S. Lewis wrote that “Love is not (merely) affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.” To desire good for others, even our enemies. 

This requires humility, and a recognition of our standing apart from Christ. Yale theologian Miroslav Volf encapsulated this ethos in writing: “Forgiveness flounders because I exclude the enemy from the community of humans even as I exclude myself from the community of sinners.” We distill people into those who are like— minded who are for us, and those who are not. Those who are not for us are against us and therefore our enemies. Sinners and saints. And, of course, I am the saint.

What is a person, what is a Christian, to do? This is where Christianity gets tough. Christ’s call is to “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” How do we look on those we disagree with in a compassionate, kind, and humble way? Again, Volf: “[N]o one can be in the presence of the God of the crucified Messiah for long… without transposing the enemy from the sphere of the monstrous…into the sphere of shared humanity and herself from the sphere of proud innocence into the sphere of common sinfulness.” We give them, the others, the enemies, what they don’t deserve: grace. Because while we were enemies of God, that’s what He gave us. The second we say, “Well, they hurt me and were wrong and they’ve got it coming!” Meaning they are deserving of my scorn and anger— we are confronted by the words of Clint Eastwood in the movie Unforgiven: “Kid, we all got it coming.”

Do people actually do this? Christians not only are called to love their enemies, but are given the Holy Spirit to enable and equip them to do so.

Theologian Frederick Buechner wrote: “The love for equals is a human thing—of friend for friend, brother for brother. It is to love what is loving and lovely. The world smiles. The love for the less fortunate is a beautiful thing—the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart of the world. The love for the more fortunate is a rare thing—to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints. And then there is the love for the enemy—love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured one’s love for the torturer. This is God’s love. It conquers the world.”

Maybe it’s not a torturer…not even really an enemy…but someone a dear friend or family member with whom I conflict. Maybe that someone is my brother in Christ or my sister on the Church leadership team. And that loved one becomes, even for a moment or a season, an enemy. How do we respond?

___________________________

In my family, there occasionally comes a moment when one of us is on the razor’s edge of saying something that will “set things on fire” (James 3.6a). Those words may be true, or merely provocative, but said out of anger or frustration, they burn. By God’s grace, most of the time we swallow those words and temper our anger with grace and mercy. However, sometimes, regrettably, the words come out. I fight with the one I love the most. And while it may be seldom, there are times when those words are so hurtful that the breach is not easily overcome.

This can happen in a family, and often does, but maybe just as often within the Church. A ministry staff, an elder board, or congregants who get sideways with each other and are stuck in their conflict. One word, or a pattern in the way they communicate and relate to each other, can create a rift wherein each party digs in their heels and won’t budge. Who was once a brother or sister in Christ becomes an arch-nemesis…who shares the same pew.

Sometimes we need help. And while, if I’m a party to the fight, I’d like to include someone who will take my side and let the other party know they were wrong…I realize that most of the time it isn’t “the other” who is the problem. I am, too. What is going on in my own heart that plays a part in the conflict? Why do I get set-off, angry, frustrated, unable to bridge the gap of conflict? Often-times I don’t really know. ServingLeaders wants to help heal the conflict, but also help each of the parties acknowledge what is going on in their own hearts that led to the conflict in the first place. We want to point them back to the Gospel of grace. My wife and I, when we are on the verge of saying something hurtful out of frustration, will often articulate, out loud, “We are on the same team.” A way of affirming that we aren’t enemies. Rather, we are both fighting against the same thing. And we are for each other.

In mediation, ServingLeaders works with each side of the conflict to honestly express their frustration honestly (rather than sweeping it under the rug), but also by fighting “cleanly,” expressing themselves with respect and humility. In doing so, we are trying to lower the temperature in the room when the parties do finally come together. I’m always amazed when a conversation goes from a pattern of anger and accusation to a pattern of humility: “This is the part I played in our conflict, and for that I am sorry.” We want to get to the longing under the longing. What does the individual really desire? Maybe it is control, or recognition, or to alleviate loneliness. Maybe there are un-articulated expectations that haven’t been agreed to. If we can begin to explore those deeper issues with the parties, we can move from anger at the enemy to a shared human condition and the tenderness that comes with recognizing our own frailties.

Humility, forgiveness, restoration. We want to point the parties in conflict back to the hope of reconciliation that ultimately comes through Jesus Christ.

Unexpected Joy in the Challenges of Being "Pastor’s Wife"

Copyright Erin Bahbah 2025

If you had asked my 16-year or even 21-year old self if I would be willing to marry someone called to the ministry, you probably would have gotten a blank stare. Sure why not…I had no real grasp of what that would mean—the sacrifices, the pressures, the unique kind of strength it would require. But as it became a potential reality, I began to see how ministry life wasn’t exactly admired or desired by many of the Christians I knew. 

Because I didn’t grow up in a Christian home, I did not have visions of what becoming a pastor’s wife would be like. I had no framework for how vocational ministry could affect (read: will effect) marriage and family. 

As I look back over the years, I can confirm that the challenges are real and unique, but behind each of those challenges, there has been unexpected joy.  I haven’t figured it all out, but as these challenges continue to surface, each one teaches me something deeper about grace, surrender, and the quiet strength God provides.

One of the quieter griefs in ministry life is the rhythm of moving. Each new church, each new town, requires letting go—even if it wasn’t yet a familiar place, the hope of settling, of having familiar streets and favorite coffee shops, and the hope of being deeply known. Starting over again and again stretches your heart in ways you can’t imagine. But over time, I’ve learned that God’s faithfulness does not just go ahead of us to prepare a place for us; He goes behind us as well, keeping us connected to people all over the country. However, the ache of transition never fully disappears.

Ministry doesn’t happen in regular office hours. My husband is often meeting with people before or after their work days, or sometimes hosting evening classes and weekend events. These can blur the lines between church life and home life. Finding the right balance to this schedule requires intentional boundaries and a whole lot of prayer.

Perhaps one of the more hidden challenges is the subtle ache of loneliness. Not from a lack of people, but from the complexity of roles and boundaries. I’ve had to learn where it’s safe to be fully myself, and to cherish the rare gift of true, unguarded friendship when and where they come. 

An unexpected joy wraps the challenges altogether through quiet moments of transformation. God has knit our hearts together with people we would have never met had we not said yes to each and every church we have been a part of, the odd hours, the constant moves, and the loneliness. There is something sacred about seeing a soul begin to heal, to hope, to believe again. And those glimpses of God at work in others have stirred something deep in me: a quiet awe and a deep gratitude for the invitation to be near holy ground.