Sleeping is an essential leadership practice

In a time when the world feels like a swirling storm of constant chaos, the story of Jesus calming the storm is more relevant than ever. We long for Jesus to calm the world’s storms and to teach us how to speak peace to the world around us.

I’ve been thinking about this because I recently completed a sermon series about boat stories in the Gospels. There are several great ones — Jesus walking on water, the miraculous catch of fish — but one in particular took hold of me when I preached on it: the story of Jesus calming the storm (Mark 4:35-41; Matthew 8:23-27; Luke 8:22-25).

But it wasn’t the crashing water and foundering boat that caught my attention. What struck me in my recent readings was what Jesus was doing before he rebuked the wind and waves.

While the disciples panicked, Jesus napped. There he was, on a cushion, snoozing through the storm. Feels rude to me! I realize that maybe he was just exhausted or maybe it’s just a throwaway detail. But when I engage the story in a spirit of contemplative curiosity, I begin to wonder if there’s more to it.

There’s a theodicy component to this story. How do we make sense of God’s goodness when it feels like God is silent and sleeping in our times of greatest need?

There’s also a spiritual formation component. What kind of spiritual practice and perspective did Jesus have that made him into a person who could sleep in such a situation?

There’s yet another dimension to this story, a paradox that I find myself pondering: What if Jesus’ slumber was an act of leadership?

Though it’s natural to assume that bold actions make a leader, could sleeping be an essential practice for those seeking to live and lead like Jesus? I think so.

First, sleeping is an act of self-leadership. It’s an indispensable habit of self-care, without which we cannot practice community care. No matter how disciplined or passionate we may be otherwise, we cannot transcend this basic necessity of human life.

In a culture that fetishizes overwork, very few other people will protect our rest. It’s not that they don’t care; they simply have too much going on. We must establish and protect those boundaries that allow us to get a good night’s sleep, every night.

Second, sleeping is an act of spiritual leadership. It’s not only self-care; it is also soul care. When we sleep, we make what Christian writer Martin Shaw calls a “covenant with limit,” reminding ourselves and those we lead that we are not God. St. John XXIII often ended his day with a simple prayer: “It’s your church, Lord. I’m going to bed.”

As the Anglican priest Andrew Bishop (and Karl Rahner before him) points out, sleep is a spiritual and theological act. The Christian tradition includes a practice of theosomnia, “sleeping in God.” We let go of our ego and willfulness and surrender to the loving providence of God. We lay down our bodies at night trusting that we will wake up again in the morning, enacting a miniature death and resurrection.

Third, sleeping is an act of sustainable leadership. It is stewardship. When we sleep, we are not only caring for our body in the present. We also are investing in the future. We are making a choice that enables what Eugene H. Peterson calls a “long obedience in the same direction,” a long-term partnership with God and those we lead.

Too many good leaders are breaking down and burning out. Sleep is only part of the solution, of course, but it might play a bigger role than we realize. When Elijah was renewed in the wilderness, he first collapsed under a broom tree and slept. (1 Kings 19). An angel woke him to take a little food and water, then he fell back asleep. It’s as if God watched over Elijah, letting him take his rounds of rest before God ever “talked shop” about his prophetic ministry.

Fourth, sleeping is an act of shared leadership. In her book “Making Room for Leadership,” MaryKate Morse says: “The way you take up space in a room, the way you use or don’t use your body in group settings, influences others.” If the way we take up space in public is leadership, then our occasional absence may influence others as well. When we decline to volunteer for an event or chair a committee in order to protect our sleep (or other) boundaries, we are sending a message that leadership should be shared rather than concentrated. Done well, it can also be empowering: Stepping back makes room for others to step forward.

Henri Nouwen talked about the “ministry of presence” and the “ministry of absence.” Jesus modeled these through his rhythms of withdrawal and engagement and ultimately through his death, resurrection and ascension. His absence enabled the disciples to recognize the spirit of Christ within themselves. “We have to learn to leave so that the Spirit can come,” Nouwen said.

Fifth, sleep is an act of strategic leadership. There is wisdom we need for our leadership that can only be accessed through a good night’s sleep. Sleep cleanses our brain, consolidates memory and makes creative connections. It brings the perspective we need to make good leadership decisions and access ideas that will inspire our people.

Sleep also transports us into the symbolic space of our dreams. Scripture and our spiritual traditions invite us to attend to our dreams as what priest and writer John A. Sanford called “God’s forgotten language.” Whether we see our dreams as divine communication or simply healthy biological processes, they can be a source of self-knowledge and a resource for creative ideas. We don’t have to wait until we collapse under a broom tree; we can practice rhythms of rest in our daily lives.

What is your next act of leadership? Maybe it’s writing a sermon or visiting a parishioner. Perhaps it’s preparing a report or recruiting volunteers. And maybe, if you follow the example of Jesus, it’s a taking a nap.