If I were to boil Enduring Ministry down to two essential actions, both would relate directly to vision. Most importantly, take time for solitude with God and anchor yourself in the vision of being unimaginably loved and cherished. There is no better orientation for ministry. Then, stay connected with those who hold you to a wholesome vision for ministry and who support you in your ongoing discernment.

On the far edge of winter

a frozen lake quakes and groans

as a warm sunrise hints at Spring.

Part of effective Christian leadership is learning when to reach beyond and when to accept our own limitations. A spiritual director offers some thoughts and advice on how to do that. This article was first published on 7 Mar 2017 in Faith & Leadership from Leadership Education at Duke Divinity. Editor's note: This reflection is adapted from Rahberg’s book, “Enduring Ministry: Toward a Lifetime of Christian Leadership.”

This past week I found myself right at home in Mark 6. The disciples are sent out two by two, preaching, casting out demons, and anointing the sick. After a time they return to Jesus and tell “him all that they had done and taught” (6:30, NRSV) Jesus replies, "Come away by yourselves to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while" (31). Sometimes that's exactly what we want to hear, the expectation we have as we climb into the boat with Jesus. Listen for what really happens: “Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them” (33). The disciples did not get the deserted place they wanted. What the disciples do get is a boat ride with Jesus between crowds. This book and this evening is about the boat ride. What happens, what needs to happen when we're sent out, when we're serving, and when we're on the boat journeying with Christ on the way to the next crowd so that we get off the boat and continue serving like Jesus? “As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things” (34). Whatever happened on that boat, Jesus sets foot ashore and demonstrates an enduring ministry.

By the time you find yourself drawn to the phrase "befriending your limits," you have likely built a home between a mountain and a shoreline. The desire to seek new perspective may well be an invitation that involves some element of discomfort . . . and a dash of hope. This peculiar mix suggests to me that God is at work and that it is time to pay attention. We cannot help but respond with honesty.

Most Christian leaders can understand the way the most sincere intentions for well-being too easily give way to the everyday demands of ministry. Even so, with the new year upon us, something deep inside refuses to dismiss the impulse of grace and promise in a new beginning.

As a spiritual director, I hear people express both the desire for new beginnings and the sense of being stuck. This reminds me that I am not alone.

We all have limits. It is an undeniable truth for every member of humankind. Whether we understand them to be the end of our capacities or the boundaries of our identities, we know the discomfort that accompanies the attempt to exceed them. Were discomfort the only outcome, we would simply discount them as inconveniences and pretend to avoid them. That would, however, dismiss the potential appreciation for limits that Benedict has been encouraging since the sixth century. In Ch. 4 of the Rule he urges the reader, “Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die”