Serving in the shadows can make it easy to withdraw, particularly when stress, exhaustion or frustration begin to build.
We talk a lot about the importance of setting healthy boundaries in our lives. Our boundaries can be good: for keeping negative things (like unhealthy work demands) at bay, protecting the important things within (our families and our personal spaces), and creating a firm and clear line so we and those around us know what we stand for and against.
On the flip side, what if we have built harmful boundaries and walls around our emotions and refuse to allow ourselves to be transparent or accountable with others about how we feel? What if we have built walls that serve to keep us isolated so that those around us don’t really know what’s going on inside our hearts or heads?
Resist the urge to isolate. Choose vulnerability instead.
Being a church tech can be a very lonely space. It can feel like many people around us don’t quite understand us, and when we labor in the shadows we can feel overlooked and neglected. This can lead to a dearth of close relationships, and when many of us are also introverted by nature, those things all compound and can lead to us withdrawing from others relationally.
When that happens, I might end up bottling up all of my emotions: when I feel lonely and overlooked, when I am stressed or overwhelmed, when I’m exhausted and fried and burned out. Eventually we look around and can’t find a healthy support system of peers and mentors to lean on to help us through those challenges.
But since we’re always expected to be the technical “miracle workers” who are impervious to challenges and always have an answer, we keep showing up, week after week, putting on armor that shows those around us that things are great and they can count on us to do our jobs well, while on the inside we may be slowly rotting or falling apart.
Or maybe instead of being driven by loneliness we build walls out of defiance. We’re so tired of being seen as a commodity, a machine whose only job is to perform a weekly routine like a metronome, that we fuel ourselves with some sort of an “if you don’t really care about me, then I’ll just keep to myself” obstinance that serves to create nothing but a moat around our castle of independence.
Isolation can look a lot like independence—until you need someone.
Instead of being vulnerable and finding others to help us carry the emotional weight, we build walls around our hearts and minds so that those people can’t really see our true selves and how we’re really struggling. The walls project that we are strong and secure, but we’ve really become the “whitewashed tombs” that Jesus called the Pharisees: we might put a lot of energy into our outward appearance, but our hearts might be dying inside, from loneliness, rejection, isolation, or even cynicism.
When that happens, how do we get out of the rut of loneliness and isolation, stop believing the lie that says we can’t be vulnerable, and admit we need help?
Are we willing to acknowledge that God didn’t create us to go through life alone, that we were designed to be in relationship with others and to be part of a team of believers who would help carry us through bad days?
Ecclesiastes 4:9-11 reminds us of the value of having others around to help us when we need it, especially when we fall and need someone to get back up.
Nothing good happens in isolation, and when we’ve willingly or unknowingly built walls around our mind and emotions, we cut ourselves off from the freedom that comes from having others help us fix our “stinkin’ thinkin’” that we are all subject to on bad days.
Are we willing to let others have insight to what we’re really thinking and feeling? It takes humility to admit that we’ve pushed ourselves away, or we’ve intentionally kept others out, for whatever reason.
We must avoid ruminating on those unhealthy and negative thoughts, which is what happens when we’re alone in our thoughts. We fall victim to negative self-talk, telling ourselves the bad things over and over again until they have created a new reality for us to believe about the world around us, regardless of how much they’re actually rooted in truth.
Negative self-talk becomes much harder to challenge when we’re the only voice in the conversation.
When we have someone to share those thoughts with, they’re able to bring an outside perspective to the table and help us see where we are wrong and where we need to change our responses.
Am I willing to admit that I might actually be the problem, not the victim?
What if I’ve built up a lie that others have harmed me, when I’ve actually been the one withdrawing and isolating? What if my fear of rejection, insecurity, or pride have been what was driving my refusal to be transparent with others?
Serving in a dark room or booth may mean we’re literally serving in the shadows. That physical isolation doesn’t have to manifest itself in emotional and relational isolation too.
Feeling wounded or neglected may lead us to naturally start building up walls and hiding ourselves from a potentially painful future, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right move.
Walls can be healthy, but they can also be harmful. Resist the urge to isolate, and choose to tear down those walls and be vulnerable instead.
