Does Stepping Back From Success Mean I’ve Failed?
A number of years ago I found myself in a place where I had no margin. Work required a lot of travel and our family with little kids demanded a lot of both me and my wife.
With an increase in responsibilities came an increase in stature, leadership, and influence. I was speaking at conferences, leading bigger projects, and being successful in my work responsibilities. I felt driven to succeed.
That drive for success also found its way into home life. I wanted to live as an extraordinary family and thought that I could achieve it if I just worked harder at being a better husband and father.
I had no margin. Achievement was the aim of my day and I began to get weary. My solution? To work even harder on my own and drive through the challenges.
Eventually, the weariness became overwhelming. I'd find myself staring at my computer screen, knowing what I needed to do but not getting up to do it. It felt like I was trapped, unable to move or take action. I became less patient and loving with my family. I was less in tune with where their hearts were and more focused on the activities that I thought would help us grow as a family.
Physically and emotionally I was burnt out. Yet I found it hard to see it because I was still drawn into the attractiveness of success, influence, and stature.
Things began to get clear for me when I was in conversation with a group of men whom I trust. One of the men asked me the question "how's your heart"? At first, I just wanted to say that I was "busy but good" but instead I decided to actually share what I had been experiencing. At that moment I felt exposed and naked, as I told him the challenges I was facing with the busyness, lack of margin, and the feeling of being inauthentic.
After this conversation, another man from the group took some extended time to listen to my story. He extended empathy and shared some encouraging words. He recommended that I take some time away. So I listened to him.
The decision to take time away was honestly hard to do. I was used to working, achieving, and moving things ahead. I believed that taking time away was showing weakness and indicated to the world that I didn't have what it takes to win at work and be present at home. Taking time off was embarrassing. I felt like a failure.
Through a few more conversations with some trusted mentors and friends, I was encouraged to use this time to practice the disciplines of stillness and silence, every day. This wasn't a natural practice for me but I obliged. I went on hikes on my own. I spent time in prayer at our parish chapel. I would go to a lake or a deserted place and invite God to sit with me in the stillness.
At first, it wasn't easy. It was hard to shut my mind off. I was so used to having thoughts and ideas. In the chapel, I wanted to check my phone, or think about new ideas and strategies for work and for family life. I couldn't sit still and just be silent with God.
On walks or hikes, I would find myself focusing on getting to the summit or making personal best time. I was still being driven by the need to be successful at silence and it wasn't working!
I started to realize what I was looking for in stillness and silence wasn’t going to come through my efforts. I needed to rely on God.
I just needed to be faithful at showing up. I practiced actively trying to be present, passing every new worry that popped into my head over to God. I worked on two skills that I had learned when distractions show up in prayer: writing the distractions down on paper and thinking of the distractions as traffic in my mind that would drive away. I kept at it and over time, I learned to let go of my efforts and I began to make more room for stillness and silence in my heart, I began to experience peace. I'd go to the chapel and feel less distracted. I would sit with God, saying nothing, and would experience a "peace that surpasses all understanding" (Phil 4:7). I remember going on a hike and pausing at a waterful to listen to the rushing of the water, disregarding any sense of time. I thought, "God is here with me. This waterfall is part of the beauty that God created for me."
I would come home after taking some time on my own and found that my heart was more compassionate to my wife and kids. I deeply delighted in the things they would share with me. I was less concerned about whether we were succeeding as a family and more concerned with connecting heart to heart. I listened and heard not only their words but the experience in their heart. I was less quick to offer a solution or an opinion to a problem or situation. I realized this was God’s heart for me too.
I experienced what Paul wrote in Romans 12:2, “Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.”
I wanted good things for my life—to be successful, to do meaningful work, and to impact others in a positive way. I also wanted good things for my family. I wanted a strong and loving marriage and I wanted to be a compassionate and present father.
I was trying to achieve good things but I was trying to achieve all of it on my own. I didn't take care of my own well being and I didn't leave much room for God.
Although I was a faithful and dedicated Catholic, I didn't always see myself as a child of God who could go to Him for the things I needed. I felt like I needed to grasp for the things I wanted because I didn't fully believe that God would be a provider.
The practices of stillness and silence made sense to me intellectually, but in practice, I didn't see it as a way for God to provide.
When I made room for God through the practices of stillness and silence, God provided the answers to those things I desired in my life. Through silence and stillness, I experienced the fruits of the spirit as described in Galatians 5:22-23: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.
Through stillness and silence, God revealed to a better way to live.
I'm still dedicated to being successful at work and to raising an extraordinary family, but I'm relying on God to provide me with what I need. I’ve learned to be more aware of my own tendency to be driven and so I’ve built in rhythms in my day, week, and month where I can practice stillness and silence. When I find myself with no margin or staring at my computer screen being inactive, I’m more aware that I’m relying too much on myself. When I’m being impatient with my kids or frustrated at home—I know that I need to make room for God. I’ll make sure to find a time in my day where I can practice stillness and silence, to allow God into my heart.
So if you're asking yourself, “how can I be successful at work? How can I be a loving spouse and a present parent?” The answer to me is simple. Make room for God.
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