I was sitting in the back of a seminar at a counseling conference, and a member of the audience asked a thoughtful question:
“My husband is a counselor, and he struggles with not picking up the phone if a counselee calls while we’re together as a family. How do I get him to stay focused on us and say “no” more often?”
I sat there, mumbling what I thought should be the lecturer’s answer: He’s got to learn to say “no” or else he won’t survive in ministry. But, this was the presenter’s humble reply: “To be honest, I struggle with the same thing…”
Counselors are a merciful people. After all, we got into this business to help hurting people. We hold out hope for the hopeless, comfort the grieving, love the disenfranchised and victimized, and welcome the outsider. So, when a troubled soul comes along, normally, if time and availability afford the ability to help, that’s exactly what we do.
But where do we draw the line and say “no”? When do you let the phone go to voicemail? When do you not answer a text or email and leave it to the next workday? When do you say, “It’s got to wait,” or “I can’t right now,” or “I’ve got to focus on my kids”?
Most counselors I know struggle with saying no because their entire life is dedicated to showing mercy. Andrew Dealy said on a panel at Christian Counseling & Educational Foundation’s (CCEF) pre-conference in October 2020:
Saying “no” is one of the hardest things ever for a counselor….when we do say “no,” it crushes our souls.
I wonder if you can relate to Andrew’s sentiments? Let me offer a few redemptive principles and warnings to help you—as a counselor—know when to say “no.”
Principle: God doesn’t need you to be a mini-Messiah.
Warning: You can self-justify overworking yourself because you are working for God.
When I was a brand-new (and very green) counselor, I would tell anyone who needed me to call anytime. Guess what? I got calls at all hours of the day and night. It was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done as a counselor. What was behind it? I had a mini-Messiah complex—I had such a bleeding heart, I’d stretch myself (to the point of exhaustion) to reach anyone and everyone who came for help.
Gospel work involves self-denial and sacrifice, but not self-inflicted misjudgments. It was far too easy to self-justify going in early, staying late, seeing anyone and everyone because I was a gospel worker, after all.
- I was helping weak and hurting people.
- I was fulfilling God’s calling on my life.
- I was making a difference.
- I was theologically trained and equipped.
- I was advancing God’s kingdom.
A mini-Messiah has too much of “I” in the center of his or her work, and not enough of Christ in the middle of it all. If this is you, repent of your mini-Messiah complex, and beg for God’s mercy to make you secondary to Christ.
Principle: Outside of God, your first responsibility is to your family.
Warning: If you don’t say “no,” your spouse and children will grow resentful and bitter.
If you do a decent job, and people are helped, and, by the grace of God, lives are changed, then your counselees will tell others. Jill proclaimed: “I came because of how much help you were to Sally. She said I should come see you!” The word gets out. New people show up. Pretty soon, you’ve got more believers asking for your help than you have time to give out.
The temptation then is to stretch yourself beyond what is wise. You start robbing from your family and giving more to your counselees. And sadly, if you are overworked, you come home exhausted, so even when you are home, there is not much of you to give to your loved ones.
You and your spouse (and in accountability with mature Christian friends) decide what’s wise for your schedule, and then before God and your family, stick to it. If you say, “I’m coming home by 5:30 p.m. on weekdays,” then arrive home at 5:31 at the latest. When you are home with your family, be fully present with them. Don’t let your counselees intrude on your time. Unless it is a true emergency, don’t respond to the text or pick up the phone.
Our family created an LSED (life-sucking electronic device) box. When I get home from work, I put my cell phone in the box, and I take a dinner sabbatical from my phone. I don’t pick it up again until after our last child goes to bed. I know myself well enough to know that if my cell phone is in my pocket, I’ll pull it out and check email for the fortieth time in an hour (well, not exactly, but that’s pretty close on some days).
If you are not proactive in putting up and maintaining boundaries around your family time, your spouse and children’s hearts will grow cold, hard, and bitter. And both you and I don’t ever want that.
Principle: Wisdom dictates that you’ll take care of yourself.
Warning: If you don’t say no, you’re in danger of burnout.
You can’t survive in gospel work if your engine is constantly running on empty. That’s a recipe for disaster and, eventually, a self-implosion and burnout. To stay happy, healthy, and sane, you must take care of yourself.
Exercise. Eat well. Drink lots of water. Go out on a date night with your spouse or parent-kid dates with your children. Read for enjoyment. Take a walk. Enjoy the warmth of the sun on your face or the change of colors of the trees in the fall. Meditate on God’s Word. Don’t rush through it. Don’t read God’s Word just to check it off your to-do list. Read extra in your Bible whenever you can.
Self-care is not wrong when it’s done with an eye towards being a godly steward of your mind, body, and life. You care for yourself, not ultimately because it’s good for you, but because you want to bring glory to God (1 Cor. 10:31).
Saying “No” for the Glory of God
The exceptions to these principles and warnings are suicide cases or similar critical situations, like when a counselee gets assaulted and calls you immediately afterward from the hospital ER. There are some things that you must stop your family time for and rush to a troubled believer’s side. But these are the exceptions, not the rule. Most things I deal with in counseling (and I deal with a lot of hard things) can wait until after I’ve gotten my kids to bed or my next day in the office.
Counselors who persevere over the long-haul—20, 30, or 40 years—have learned to say “no.” Learning to say “no” is hard and uncomfortable, but it’s vital for your survival.
Are you willing to say “no”? Can you kill the mini-Messiah that rages within you? Can you protect your family time? Can you take care of yourself rather than run yourself into the ground? Saying “no” is not easy, but it’s a kindness to your family, a wise way to live, and honoring to your God.
Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at the Biblical Counseling Coalition. It has been republished here with permission from the author.