When I was in middle school, I was introduced to the stereotypical “burnout.” They wore faded-black metal band t-shirts and unkempt mullets that smelled of cigarettes. They drove loud, beater muscle cars and lived a raucous lifestyle that gave a big (tattooed) middle finger to authority. 

But when I became a burnout, it all looked a little different. 

In August of 2017 – after 12 years of coordinating, creating, dreaming, and implementing – my roles in the creative world of a church that I loved came to a close. At first, it seemed abrupt, but in hindsight it had been gradually approaching as seasons do. In the time since then, I have been able to evaluate, appreciate, and regenerate.   

However, as a church creative, I had reached the point where “the demand” was only being filled by obligation. The pressure to be cranking out new material (with little inspiration <<mea culpa) on a weekly basis wasn’t allowing me to be my best or serve those around me best. It certainly was not art influenced by my unique heart connection to God. What once felt like the evidence of a heart overflowing, deeply connected, and full of vision became dried up. Even worse, I was ignoring warning signs from God to go heal my heart and care for my gifts and truly live the WIDE-OPEN life for which He purposed me. And yeah, I had become a burnout.   

I had found myself no longer serving and creating from that overflow. The only “art” coming from me truly was not representative of my specific gift – it was heavily influenced by what the organization needed/wanted and me just trying to make it work somehow. And I’m pretty sure, it wasn’t.  

As time has passed, I’ve been healing and reclaiming my identity as God’s beloved child, caring for the gifts He gave me, finding time and space to enjoy some carefree cultivation of those gifts, and recognizing new ways to share them with others and glorify my Heavenly Father.  

And in all of it I was lavished with something that my heart longingly prayed for and sought after. I was given TIME. It didn’t come how I envisioned or even specifically asked, but exactly as I needed, of course. Time with God, time by myself, time with my husband, with my family, my friends, strangers, and even my former co-workers – all outside the walls of the church.    

I hope this doesn’t read as self-centered. This has not been about a need to celebrate “me” or let “me” stand out from the church organization, but rather it is much the opposite. It has been about finding myself as a healthy, functioning, thriving part of the body of Christ and the longing to employ the very specific gifts and voice that God gave me in this world. Not just the one that an organization expected. And YES, YES, YES! ABSOLUTELY for many years, I had been in a place where it all worked beautifully and harmoniously and I was surrounded by other gifted and strong-hearted Jesus followers. And I still love them, all, dearly and deeply. But the path of my life threw in some rough curves and detours that bumped me up a bit. I started to hit some wrong notes and needed fine tuning. It just wasn’t going to happen where I was. Burn out hit me hard. I accept full responsibility for that. 

Throughout the healing process, I allowed my heart to hurt and grieve for the girl who began that journey so undaunted and bright-eyed 12 years earlier.   

Fellow church creatives, please care for your heart.  I know, I know, I too heard other church creative leaders say this over the years and I brushed it off, thinking “of course I’m caring for my heart, I work at a church!” But, nope.

Now I know that these other leaders were speaking from experience a.k.a. the harshest of teachers. I can easily see how creative people don’t hear what other leaders have to say because we are creative – we have our own needs and ways of doing, creating, being, understanding, and dealing, but let me assure you that we can all burn out in similar ways.  

Listen to God. Don’t ignore his promptings. Don’t ignore your very specific gifts. Care for them. Enjoy and play with them apart from expectation and obligation. Feed them and water them. Work out needs for rest with your leadership – don’t push through ignore your troubles until you break. Don’t be afraid to put your ideas and creations out there. And, hey, if your organization doesn’t like your idea or find use for it – PLEASE DON’T BURN IT! Shelf it for later*! God inspires things in us that are not specifically meant for a stage or a projection screen or to be done in the name of an organization. To be serving and living and creating from the overflow of God’s inspiration in my every day life is the most freeing and peaceful place I have ever been. Imagine that. 

I pray the same for all of you wonderful, beloved ones.   

“Whatever you do, work at it with all of your heart, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.”

Colossians 3:23-24

*P.S. Now by “shelf it for later” – I mean it! Not everything is meant to be created for immediate use or to be used once and forgotten in a sea of multimedia presentation files. Some things need to simmer . . . for a long time. Give your creativity some breathing room. God began to inspire a BIG idea in me that I thought was a the solution to a big problem, and I was admittedly disappointed when it was shot down. I’d had tons of ideas passed over through the years, but this one bothered me. However, at the time God had only given me a tiny glimpse of what was to come, what the big idea actually looked like. The idea was never meant for the organization, it was specifically for me to grow outside the walls of the organization. At the time I foolishly thought every inspired idea that burned in my heart and spirit could only be for the organization . . . I even allowed myself to feel frustration toward the organization because they turned it down. BUT they were supposed to. It wasn’t meant for there. I just needed to slow down. And heal. And listen. And fully trust what Jesus was just beginning to inspire in me . . .