Compassion fatigue: a form of words that describes being drained – not just of physical energy but of love too. A state we find ourselves in after long or intense periods of care. A place where we sink into our chairs and exclaim, “I just can’t do this anymore – I’ve got nothing left to give.” A not-uncommon experience for those who are passionate about walking alongside those who are deeply broken and pointing them to Christ.
Most of us don’t like admitting we struggle with it. After all, Colossians tells us to clothe ourselves in compassion (Colossians 3:12). Compassion should be what people see in us with ease. But, after difficult periods of giving, sometimes we look down at those clothes and are confronted with the fact they’re pretty battered and torn. Caring for one another can be hard, it can be deeply costly and there are moments when we begin to drown.
Great leaders of the faith are not immune. Moses got pretty exasperated with the Israelites. Elijah (for a variety of factors) reached the place of “I can’t keep doing this, Lord.” And across our land, there are pastors and people who are plodding on with those words resounding in their ears too.
Where not to look
At times like this, we need to choose where we will put our eyes, where we will find our hope. Many of us respond by looking longingly into our own ‘personal reserves’. We tell ourselves to try a bit harder, work a bit smarter – push on – and hopefully it will all be OK. Maybe it will for a while. We can run on empty for a bit. But that’s not a long term strategy – eventually exhaustion will lead to despair.
Looking over to the person we are walking alongside, hoping they will suddenly need less support, is another common place to put our eyes. If only they would try more, then the burden wouldn’t be so heavy on us. There are, of course, moments to encourage change in those we support but we cannot fast-pace recovery – or sanctification – both are progressive and often necessarily slow. Expecting the person (or people) we have offered to support to carry more so we can carry less usually ends up in disappointment. Maybe it ends up with us harbouring feelings of resentment towards them too.
Where to glance
When it comes to compassion fatigue there is wisdom in the world. Books – workbooks – blog posts abound. Each contains a good degree of common wisdom, encouraging us to: rest, challenge our negative thoughts, engage in relaxation exercises and more.
Not all of us like the term ‘self-care’ but remembering that God encourages us to lived at a grace-paced life (taking care of the body he has gifted us and remembering his instruction to sabbath) is undeniably a biblical call. Some of the techniques set out by secular professionals can truly serve us well. The Lord provided Elijah with food and rest in his time of exhaustion (1 Kings 17:6). Sometimes for us, too, things like sleep and healthy fuel is what we need. And we can ask people around us (medics, charities, friends) to help facilitate such things if we find them hard to access ourselves.
Where to gaze
But it is in God’s word that we find most strength and hope. There we find deep nourishment for our weary souls. As we care for others, in the name of Christ, we can be confident that:
- We are loved. So deeply loved. Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, prays that they will be able to grasp the scope of God’s love for them, and we can pray likewise for ourselves and those around (Ephesians 3:18). When exhausted and wrung-out, we don’t always feel loved – we can begin to believe God has left us or that he doesn’t care. Those are ‘old self’ thoughts to be captured, to be brought to God’s word and to be transformed (Ephesians 4:22-24). Don’t have the energy to do that yourself? Then maybe a friend can message you each morning with a reminder of how much you are adored – with biblical evidence that brings light to your heart.
- We are not alone. The God who loves us also provides. He does not provide for us to work beyond what he calls us to but he does provide for what he asks of us. In the same prayer, Paul prays for the Ephesians to be strengthened (Ephesians 3:16) and we can ask likewise so we labour in his strength not our own. It is worth asking ourselves the question whether maybe – just maybe – we are trying to take on too much, be too much to the people around us, and maybe it’s wiser to do less. It might be that we are thinking of ourselves as the saviour rather than Christ, and that is something from which to repent. But it may be right to press on. If so, asking for God’s help to do his work of love is a prayer the Lord loves to hear.
- We are part of a family. Our local church congregation may not be large but there will be more than just us (Ephesians 3:18). We are in that family because we have one Father (Ephesians 3:14) – and one Saviour. Burdens are designed to be shared in the church family, not carried by a single individual alone. It’s hard to ask. I know how those words get stuck in our throats. But there is maturity and wisdom in being willing to say, “I need help”. Even if the help given is small, the load is at least slightly shared and that in itself brings relief. Maybe we can ask for someone to meet with us regularly to share our heart and gain their wisdom. Maybe we will be able to take a step back for a while – like a relay runner passing on the baton to another, we can have a period of rest before beginning to run again.
- We have hope. God is able to do extraordinary things. On those moments when we feel we are at our limit, he is able to turn things around. As the prayer continues, he is described as the God who is able to do more than we ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20). It would not be wise to rely on this point alone. Sometimes the means by which he achieves the unexpected is by us taking the steps above to live slower, with more dependence on him and interdependence on others. But even with those practical steps in mind, he still often brings help and hope in the most intriguing ways.
None of these things automatically makes caring for others easy. It will remain the sacrifice it is designed to be. But it will hopefully seem more possible – and a more beautiful a call than it does today.
