LUMINOSITY REFLECTION MARCH 2026

Am I to blame for my burnout? 

Just lately I have been wondering. And I am not even burned out! 

Not really. Not compared to some people I know. 

During the second week of March, I was one of three members of Mt. Laurel Presbytery who left the comparative cold of eastern Pennsylvania for the sunny swamps of Orlando. We gathered with over 300 of our PC(USA) colleagues for the very first Luminosity Conference, sponsored by the Presbyterian Foundation. 

In all honesty: I was drawn to the conference less by my interest in any of the advertised presenters and more by the prospect of a reunion with old friends and a respite from the wind chill. 

But The Rev Ayana Teeter (of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary) has got me pondering a painful question:

Who is to blame for this burnout? 

Because I hear about burnout all the time. I hear about it from ruling elders and deacons and volunteers in my congregation, who feel stretched to their limits. I hear it from  colleagues in a wide variety of settings, who wonder if they have anything left to give. I hear about it outside of the church as well, from all kinds of people in all kinds of places.

Welcome to The Era of Burnout. 

We are, all of us, so very deeply tired. Why are all of us so very deeply tired? And what can we do about it?

But look what I just did.  Even posing the question in this fashion–”what can we do about it?”--that question may well be part of the problem. 

Why do I assume that I am to blame for my burnout? Why do I always think I need to do something about it? 

Drawing on the work of Villanova professor Eugene McCarraher, Rev. Teeter invited us to consider the ways in which neoliberalism–an economic ideology that shapes so much of our life–will burn all of us out eventually. 

It is a long story. I do not claim to understand it entirely. But this much resonates with me: Neoliberalism confers responsibility on me to make something of myself -whether I want that responsibility or not, whether I have that power or not. I am my own greatest opportunity. I am, therefore and consequently, the source of all my own deepest problems. 

Neoliberalism shapes us in so many ways. It makes us into the kind of people who respect the hustle, celebrate innovation and very nearly worship those willing and able to just do more than the rest of us.  It leads us, always and inexorably, to address church decline by doing more: More worship services! More programs! More innovation! 

(The sabbath is for suckers. We can sleep when we’re dead). 

We are, to use a biblical image, trying to make more bricks with less straw. We consent–sometimes with reluctance, sometimes with an almost fanatical faith–we consent to the setup for our own inevitable failure. Then we blame ourselves for the inevitable result. 

No wonder we feel burned out.

I do not have the answers. Neither, I suspect, does Rev Teeter. But I have a sneaky suspicion–call it a holy hunch–that I will do better if I can somehow shift my perspective. 

In Orlando I heard an invitation to give up on the whole business of making something of myself. Maybe even (this one is harder) to give up trying to make something of my church. Who am I? Who are we? And what will we become? Maybe none of that is any of my business. Maybe it was never mine to establish or control. Maybe our identity either comes to us as a gift or does not come at all. 

What does that leave for me to do?

I can wait on God. I can watch for the Spirit to move beyond all of my plans and predictions.  I can give thanks for all of God’s good gifts to me, to the church, to our world.  I can let go of the hustle and lean into gratitude.

I mean, I can try. I am pretty sure I can not manage any of that  by myself. I am not even sure my congregation can do any of that by itself. Maybe that is why we have a presbytery.

The Rev. Dr. Matt Mardis-LeCroy is Pastor of College Hill Presbyterian Church in Easton.