Sick days
It's better to take the day and heal than to work through it and accomplish next to nothing.
I don’t remember the last time that I took a sick day.
I mean, I know that I have taken sick days over the course of my professional life. I just have no memory of taking one since I’ve been a pastor.
I had diverticulitis during the pandemic and ended up in the emergency room. But I had already recorded and uploaded the pre-recorded worship service, so we were good. And I think that I still did some work on the Sunday that I didn’t really miss because we weren’t meeting in person anyway.
I had COVID for about a week after the world reopened. I didn’t go into the office or go to meetings, but I still did everything that I could. And by the time Sunday rolled around, I was testing negative and we were all set to have worship outside. So I preached the sermon that I had written while I had COVID. And I think it was one of my better sermons.
I had a vicious cold a few of weeks ago. And again, I didn’t go into the office, and I cancelled a meeting, and I didn’t do the home visits that I had planned on doing. But I did as much as I could. And when Sunday rolled around, I was in the pulpit, preaching the sermon that I had written when I should have been resting.
And that can’t be healthy.
Let’s start with the reason that sick days are important: they give you a chance to get better.
My wife once told me that I am an armadillo when I’m sick: I roll into a little ball—well, I curl up under a pile of blankets—and sleep. And she’s right. When I am sick, all I want to do is sleep, take the occasional warm bath or shower, and generally let whatever I have run its course. I am even one of those people who avoids taking medicine unless it’s really necessary. I want the fever and the mucous and the general grossness of the immune-system-at-work to do their jobs.
And that means taking the time to be sick.
I don’t know if this is true, but it seems like trying to work through an illness just makes it last longer as important resources are taken away from the immune system and put towards things like writing sermons and planning worship and thinking about meeting agendas. I also don’t know if this is true, but it seems like taking medicines that alleviate the symptoms also makes illnesses last longer as the immune system tries to do its work with one hand tied behind its back.
And, as an aside and just to be clear, I am emphatically not saying that we should not take medicine when we’re sick. I’m just saying that it seems like there is some benefit from letting mild symptoms run their course. But that is far more true when we’re talking about a cold than it is when we’re talking about diverticulitis.
In a sense, sick days are a kind of permission giving. They’re a way of telling someone to take the time, get some sleep, eat nothing but chicken soup and peanut butter crackers, and let that mild fever do its thing. And that’s important, because those are the things that help us actually get over that nasty cold or mild flu or whatever.
Let’s continue with the reason that I don’t take sick days: because I believe that I am indispensable.
A while ago, I told the moderator of my congregation that I was going to take a light week—no meetings, no office hours, no visits, nothing that wasn’t absolutely necessary—so that I could focus on some other issues that I needed to address. In fact, that’s what kicked off this newsletter and the work of being honest about being a pastor.
He asked me if anyone would notice.
And I’m writing that because the truth is that most people wouldn’t notice if I skipped office hours or failed to stop by the assisted living place for a week. And while people would notice if I missed a committee meeting, most people on most committees probably wouldn’t care that I had missed it.
But people would notice on Sunday morning. That’s why I still have to do the necessary things like planning worship services and writing sermons and putting slides together. Being gone for a week—or for a couple of days—isn’t a question of whether other people could cover by work. It’s a question of whether people would notice some things just not getting done.
But the truth is that we could still worship on Sunday even if I didn’t have a sermon ready to go. We could still worship even if all that I could offer was a short impromptu reflection. We could still worship even if I couldn’t offer anything at all, and we didn’t have any slides, and the bulletins all had to go into the recycling, and we had to make everything up as we went along.
The truth is that most of the things that happen in the church could still happen—in some way or another—even if I wasn’t there to lead them. But, because I think of myself as indispensable, I work through sickness so that I can make sure that the things that I think are necessary—and that only I can do—get done.
And that robs me of rest. And it robs my congregation of opportunities to lead.
And let’s finish up with how not taking sick days messes everything up.
Obviously, it means that I feel sick longer. And it robs my congregation of an opportunity to take on the work of being the church.
But it also makes me feel resentful
When I had that nasty cold a few weeks ago, I stayed home and worked on my sermon for the next Sunday. And I ended each of those days that I stayed home with, well, not exactly nothing, but nothing that I was happy with. And I ended each of those days resenting the fact that I had not only spent time working, but that I had nothing to show for it.
So I was in a bad mood because I was sick. And I was in a bad mood because I was working while I was sick. And I was in a bad mood because I wasn’t being productive.
And the hard truth—the truth that’s hard for me to hear—is that it was my own fault.
I need to remember that no one will be upset if I take a sick day. And no one would know if I made some changes to the rest of the week so that I could take a sick day and still get the necessary things done. And no one would be angry if the Sunday after a sick day was a little different. And all that I do when I refuse to take a sick day is make things worse for myself.
So I should just take the sick day. And so should you.
Just a quick note that the holidays are a busy time for pastors. I’ll see you—well, you’ll read me—in the new year!