“Christian growth does not occur by behaving better but, rather, by believing better.” –Tullian Tchividjian
Most Mondays begin for me with several hours spent emerging from the fog of a marathon Sunday the day before. It’s understandable why most pastors take Mondays off as it seems that we aren’t exactly at our spiritual best. Truth be known, most of the tears I shed during an average week fall on a Monday morning. Before you feel sorry for me I should explain that those tears usually come from a combination of gratitude for a blessed Lord’s day the day before, an awareness that my tank is empty after that fruitful day of service and a forward-looking hunger for what is set before me as my calendar reminds me that I’m not sufficient on my own to accomplish what God has established for the week. Sundays are, by far, my favorite day of the week. Mondays? Bottom of the list.
The reason I quoted Tullian Tchividjian to begin today’s thoughts is because I’m finding his ministry to be a source of refreshing in my life lately. He’s a 38 year old Presbyterian pastor in Florida and one of the bright lights of my own generation. Tullian’s tenacious commitment to the doctrines of grace has been a tool in God’s hand to chisel away my natural-born performance oriented mentality. The above quote from him was something he said to about 200 pastors and Christian workers in a small gathering last week during the pastors conference I attended.
He was modeling for us what pastors need to model for the people who follow them: relationship with Christ is more about BEING than DOING.
That’s something we don’t hear a lot anymore. God has done all that He has ordained to do in order that we might know the bliss of being with Him. I would suggest that cultivating a relationship of abiding with God is much more delicate than fostering a lifestyle of doing for God. The former requires a wholeheartedness while the latter might only require busy-handedness. Have you thought about the one to which you most easily lean?
Along these lines, as I prayed this morning, I found myself needing to confess something. The confession that I brought before the Lord as my primary sin was not on the normal top ten list of male Christian confessions. It wasn’t ego or lust or covetousness or vanity. My confession this morning was that I have progressively cultivated a default pattern of thinking that deceives me into believing that the things I do are more essential to the Kingdom than they actually are. I really think that I presume somewhere deep inside of me that I am – somehow, in some way – crucial to the overall plan of God for the ages. Before you judge me, let me explain: this sin is not some arrogant trait which comes from a conscious inflated sense of self-worth. I believe myself to be supremely underqualifed and, at times, wholly unsuitable for the privileges I have been afforded in the Kingdom. No, this lingering fault in me that overinflates my importance masks itself as responsibility. I must be responsible as a husband because Amy’s well-being depends on me. Alicia and Landon need a top-notch daddy who doesn’t undermine God’s work in their lives through neglect or foolishness. Meadow deserves a pristine pastor, anointed, full of the Spirit, unblemished and dutiful. To top it all off, God Almighty has poured out His undeserved mercy, love and favor and I need to establish my gratitude to Him by living a life of burgeoning excellence. Amazingly, I DO believe that there is much truth within all of those statements. The issue is that I don’t yet know how to achieve them without transgressing into relying upon myself in some way that is independent of God’s grace. My soul tells me that it will be grace from on high that will bring it to pass… but my flesh tells me not to become a presumptuous sell-out and to man-up and take care of business on my own.
Back on the stormy sea, the disciples were rowing and toiling and bailing out water from a ship that was surely going to sink. They were alone in the tempest while Jesus prayed on the shore. The battle was outlasting their strength and, at the darkest point of a long night, Jesus came strolling across the waves. He reproved their lack of faith, got into the boat, and put the storm down for a long nap. I’m unsure what the disciples could have or should have done beside what they actually did. I think their toiling and striving against the contrary forces were part of the lesson which they needed to learn. It was part of the lesson, but it was definitely not the solution. You have your own battle today. You’re learning that the storm will often outmatch you. You are learning the insufficiency of your best efforts. The teacher is not the storm. The teacher is Jesus who takes what is over your head and puts it under His feet. Join me in this ongoing lesson for capable people and let us remember the high call of being above the lesser work of doing.