by Tim Knappenberger

My last year of work grew increasingly hard for me to deal with. Actually, it was a problem in the making for over two years. In my field (social services), we are undergoing the illustrious managed care revolution: Doing more with less. Trying to prove and document those we work with are measurably better. Demanding more "billable hours" from an already overworked and over-regulated staff. Funding cuts in the face of accountability increases. Staff morale strain and turnover. I could go on; I won’t.

I had gradually come to the conclusion that I, along with others at my work, was burned out and fed up with my career in social work. After almost 20 years in the profession and coupled with the realities cited above, it seemed logical to me that I was exhausted and needed a change. When I began my descent into the career doldrums, I went to Christ in prayer asking for strength, perseverance, and grace. Day in and day out (through His strength, I’m convinced) I managed to get out of bed, stuff my increasingly sour attitude back into it’s box, and plod through my responsibilities. However, I never managed to climb higher or rise above my circumstances. The most I could say was that I "was surviving;" my frequent and favorite response to the "How-are-you?" queries of others.

Then in July of this year, things really came to a head. A situation that had been brewing for years with one of our supervisors and her staff erupted. The staff revolted, went to the top and demanded something be done or else they were prepared to walk en masse. Having had the same issues with the supervisor in question, I understood their upset and identified with their frustration. However, having had about ½ pint of "gas" left in my own emotional "tank," I was not anxious to confront the issue head on. Nevertheless, that’s exactly what my boss was requiring of me. The plan was for me to essentially oversee every meeting, every session, and every movement of the problematic supervisor and to hold her to account for her actions and words. Given the past tensions this person and I had already experienced working together, I firmly believed that I was simply not up to the task; physically, emotionally, nor spiritually. I was ready to resign.

My boss carefully laid out the reasons for the unpleasant task, all of which I agreed with and understood. My wife patiently listened to my tale of woe. God listened to my daily pleadings for His will, strength, and deliverance from this mess. Despite it all, things only seemed to grow darker. My mind was made up. I needed to resign. I needed to find a new, less stressful job. I needed to be out of social service altogether. Then something unremarkable, but noteworthy occurred: In two separate conversations on the issue, my boss and my wife (without secretly conferring with one another, I must add) gave me the exact same advice in almost the exact same words: "OK, maybe you can’t do what the situation is calling for you to do and you’ll need to quit. But before you do, at least give it a try. Then if you’re right, you can always walk away after a couple of weeks or months knowing you at least gave it a shot." Maybe they’re not words that will ever be chiseled upon a marble column, but they rang in my ears with the Lord’s quiet voice whispering behind them "Tim… please listen." So I listened.

I agreed with my boss to at least initiate the unpleasant process, with the understanding that I could "bale out" should I find myself unable to meet the demands. The supervisor was then confronted, the issues laid out, and the process presented. Tense as that meeting was for all concerned, it paled in significance to what would have to follow; months and probably years of daily monitoring and confronting. The supervisor was allowed one week to decide whether she would agree to cooperate with the plan or not. By her verbal and non-verbal responses made throughout the intervening week, I had concluded she would, in all likelihood, be going along with the it. "OK Lord," I thought, "If this is to be, then I’ll need Your grace and strength more than ever. And if I can’t ‘cut it’, help me find another job." One week later, she resigned.

What followed demonstrated where my lack of understanding of what I really did and didn’t need hit home. After eight years of living with the on-again/off-again tension from this relationship, I was relaxed for the first time in a looooong time. Not only was I relieved, but so were the staff of the specific program in question and essentially, our entire organization as well. The stress of this one, long-standing and problematic relationship had infected our entire organization. It had, unbeknownst to me, infected my spirit and soul.

Was I aware of that? No. I had wrongly concluded it was me who needed to go. Did that one resignation eliminate all of the other stresses and strains of my profession? Absolutely not. However, it continues to amaze me just how manageable and non-overwhelming those same stresses now are. Am I really just another burned out social worker? Well, I won’t claim to never getting weary, but I’ve recently found surprising new energy and vitality that I thought had long since "withered on the vine." So once again, I am reminded that whatever I think I need is just that: something I think I need. Conversely, whatever it is I actually do need is that which is known by my Lord and something I need to discover from Him.

"Thanks Lord, I didn’t know it, but I needed that!"

"All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you."

(Psalms 38:9 NIV)