Many years ago my mentor and friend, Richard J. Foster, and I had lunch. Not long into the lunch, Richardâs face looked very serious, and he said, âI want you to hear this word, and take it to heart. Your career is going to change. You are going to move from the minor league to the major league in the next few years. You must take care of your soul.â
I said, âWell, I have no idea what that means, but . . . thanks for the advice.â
âNo, I am serious, Jim. You need to write this down and remember it.â
So I wrote it down. I assumed Richard was just being nice; I never expected he might be right. I kept the napkin I wrote it on, but I did not heed his advice.
Richard was right. The next few years of my life, in terms of my career, changed. I went from being a college professor and part-time teaching pastor in a local church, to the head of a ministry with a growing number of staff. We were blessed with financial resources beyond our expectations, and we did our best to increase our impact for the kingdom of God. New opportunities came, and doors were opened that I had never dreamed of. I was traveling around the world, and it seemed clear that God was doing a lot of good through our work. I found myself feeling two things at once: excitement to do the work and enormous pressure to succeed.
I did what many people do: I poured my heart into it and worked harder than ever before. I read books on how to be a leader, studied ministry programs, learned about marketing and branding, and honed every skill I had in order to advance our work. Success kept coming, in terms of how success is measured in ministry work: more people were being reached and more influence was being exerted and more resources were being given. But I was enjoying it less and less.
I did not have a moral failure, I was not experiencing burnout, nor was I suffering under an addiction, though I suspect I had not sought help I could have. There was a lot of grief and unhealed trauma that I had suppressed. As a result, I simply lost joy and was suffering in silence. I made the common mistake of thinking that doing work for God was more important than caring for my own soul. And now I was paying the price, because my soul refused to be neglected. I had pursued and achieved successâbut at what cost?
I confided my concerns with my longtime pastor and friend, Jeff, who said, âMaybe you need to talk to someone, a trusted counselor.â I had never done any kind of therapy work, but I was desperate enough to try. God led me to a therapist in Colorado, and I set aside a week to go for some intensive counseling. I did not want to admit it, but I knew that I needed help. The only thing in my favor was a small amount of courage to ask for it. I knew that I would soon be going into the office of a therapist, and for the next week baring my soul.
âSo,â my therapist, Michael, asked, âWhat brings you here?â
âI cannot go on living this way,â I said.
âSay more,â he inquired.
âI feel empty inside. I have lost my joy, my smile. I just feel nothing,â I said.
He invited me to share anything and everything I was comfortable sharing. I thought to myself, Well, I am here, and it is safe, so I might as well let it all hang out. I shared all of my biggest mistakes and regrets; I exposed all the skeletons in my closet; I confessed my worst sins and darkest fears, and the thoughts, words, and deeds of which I was most ashamed. This took around thirty minutes but felt like an eternity.
Michael sat in silence and listened, then said nothing for a minute. Then he said, âI am so impressed with your integrity. You are such a man of integrity.â
âWait, what? Did you not hear a thing I just said? I confessed my worst failures, most shameful sins, my darkest secrets, and your first response is that you are impressed with my integrity?â
âYes, and it was such a joy and honor to hear it, not because you are James Bryan Smith, the author, but because you are Jim Smith, the wonderful human soul. In that confession, you were truly in alignment with God. The integrity I see in you is not because you named your struggle; the integrity is in your soul. You opened up your soul, the place no one can see, the place where there is pain and fear and shame, but there is also so much more that you do not see.â
I was stunned.
âJim,â Michael said, looking right at me, âGod sees into your soulâinto the totality of who you are. Jesus looks at our worst and puts his arm around us and says, âWell, of course.â Jesus knows the truth of where we are, and he does not condemn us for it. But he does have great expectancy for how much we can heal, for how free and alive we can be. It was an honor to see the core of your being. Right now, you only see the junk . . . I see the goldâI see Christ in you. Your soul is longing to be made well, and you have taken the first step toward that by coming here.â
By the end of the week I felt like a new person. A burden had been lifted. On the last day, as I was leaving, I noticed for the first time that the name of the counseling program is Restoring the Soul. I suddenly thought of Richard, and what he had said many years earlier. I would learn that week and for the next few years that it was my soul, the thing years earlier Richard had asked me to guard, that was both the cause of my pain and the hope of my healing. I had, in fact, not guarded my soul. But now I would, and I resolved to try my best never to make that mistake again.
OUR SOULS WANT LIFE
Not long after my own time in therapy, I was listening to a podcast in which the guest spoke about his time in counseling. The guest was one of my favorite spiritual writers, whose books have been helpful to me. I was surprised to learn that he had struggled for years with clinical depression. He said he felt ashamed of his depression, feeling as if he had to keep it secret, and keeping the secret was exhausting. He assumed that the spiritual life was like an ascent to a high mountain where you try to touch God, but that spirituality had nothing to do with the valley and he had been living in the valley.
He said during his depression he never felt âless spiritual,â but that the things he relied on in his life for meaning and purpose, such as his intellect and his emotional life, were gone; his willpower had been shattered. And yet, âthere was this primitive core of being, this life force that was alive and holding out hope.â He said it was his soul. He said, âThe soul is this wild creature that knows how to survive where our intellect and our feelings and our will cannot.â Then he said this: âCatching a glimpse of my soul kept me alive, realizing I was more than my mind and my will, because when those things are gone, the soul is still available.â
I have come to believe that our soul is the most essential, precious thing about any of us. And, paradoxically, ...