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To those who tried to tell me, thank you.
For years you all have petitioned that I take a break, citing that were I to maintain the exorbitant level of output that I have prided myself on giving to all undertakings, I would dramatically decrease by ability to be effective at all by decreasing the amount of time I have to be of any good. You tried to tell me for so long. Back to my undergraduate years, you were there, seeing my bloodshot eyes, telling me there was a better way. In my days at the ARISE Institute, you were there, cautioning me not to take on burdens that were not my own. And as I moved on to a meadow of miracles, there you were, holding signs of warning.
For years I have heard you, I have fought you, and I have denied your reality, but now I acknowledge your wisdom. It has taken much for me to "see the light," but the nail in the coffin came just this past weekend as I read the following from one of my favorite authors:
The misuse of our physical powers shortens the period of time in which our lives can be used for the glory of God. And it unfits us to accomplish the work God has given us to do...Those who thus shorten their lives and unfit themselves for service by disregarding nature's laws, are guilty of robbery toward God. And they are robbing their fellow men also. The opportunity of blessing others, the very work for which God sent them into the world, has by their own course of action been cut short. And they have unfitted themselves to do even that which in a briefer period of time they might have accomplished. The Lord holds us guilty when by our injurious habits we thus deprive the world of good. {Christ's Object Lessons 346.4}
The Christian life is not made up of unceasing activity, or of continual meditation....Christians must work earnestly for the salvation of the lost, and they must also take time for contemplation, for prayer, and the study of the word of God. It will not do to be always under the strain of the work and excitement, for in this way personal piety is neglected, and the powers of mind and body are injured.
Our God is ever merciful, full of compassion, and reasonable in all his requirements. He does not require that we shall pursue a course of action that will result in the loss of our health or the enfeeblement of our powers of mind. He would not have us work under a pressure and strain until exhaustion follows, and prostration of the nerves.
Though the harvest is great, and the laborers are few, nothing is gained by sacrificing health and life.
{Review and Herald, November 7, 1893}
Message understood, loud and clear. Change is on the way.
Another night preaching gone by, I leaned forward on the couch staring into a blank document I had just begun on my computer. I had work to do. Fluttering through my mind were the events of the past two days. Just two nights before I had watched as one of the perceivably most hardened boys broke down in tears under the conviction of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit would not let the boy rest until he came and told me the truth. After praying with him and sending him off to bed, I walked into the office, looked at my team leader, and shook my head in disbelief. “Every day something new,” I breathed out, “I didn’t see that one coming.”
The next night I was sitting on a couch beside another boy, explaining to him my “big picture” theology, meaning that, as we understand that we are insignificant of ourselves, that our only value comes from the one who declares us to be worth something, and that every aspect of our lives will be meaningless, senseless, and worthless without Him, we see the “big picture,” of which we are a small part. The more I shared with him, the more it seemed to make sense to the both of us, and I began to feel the conviction that I needed to explore the entire subject more deeply. I started outlining that evening and considered the possibility of it turning into a larger scale project.
The following day I remember intending to get lunch in the cafeteria and pull a student to brainstorm on some goals for his academics. I decided first to check if Sir J. could cover worship on Saturday night. A moment’s check turned into a much longer time of discussion of a subject that hadn’t even been on my mind. Now late for lunch, I hurried through line, found the student, and had the necessary discussion, never actually stopping to consume the meal I’d taken for myself. When I finally did get the chance, a former student came by to ask me a question, but looking into her eyes, I knew there was something else going on that she needed to express. Before we could talk, another student came by and something told me to have her sit down for a moment. She was trying to appear ok, but, within a moment, she shared some things that were weighing heavy upon her. Just as she was finishing, the former student returned. I finally got her to agree to talk about what was bothering her, and we left campus for her to vent freely. As we sat in DQ, the 23rd Psalm came to mind, and I shared it with her from a perspective I had never seen before, then combining it with some thoughts I’d just developed on the “big picture.” I knew I had to preach on the “big picture” theology I was developing that very night; there was no time like the present.
After the sermon was all said and done that evening, I made an appeal for all who wanted to see the big picture with God’s eyes, and the response was overwhelming, but as I lingered upon the appeal, I caught glimpse of a boy still sitting. My eyes wandered about and then found him again.
Now, an hour or two later, back in the dorm, the boy came to me and asked if we could talk tonight. “Not tonight,” I said, “I have too much stuff that needs to be turned in for work.” He asked if we could pray together, and I prayed with him. Somewhere inside of me, a voice whispered indiscernibly. Moments later, I had to go downstairs to close a phone call. Sitting in the office the whisper grew discernable, saying, “Don’t let this opportunity pass.” I had the boy sent down and called him into the office, and I listened to him vent for a long time about his past. I didn’t say much, not seeing much necessity, but finally I had to share my perspective. As I spoke, I felt a tear begin to form in my eye and saw one fall from his. I rose from my chair and sat on the floor beside him, placing my arms about him and telling him, “I love you.”
As I sat there, I felt a spiritual battle commence, but this one was to be unlike any other I had ever engaged in. As I continued speaking to him, upon the mention of his need to call upon the name of Jesus, I felt him tense his muscles. Every time I said the name, he shifted his position. Before I knew what was happening, I began rebuking demons in the name of Jesus and telling them to leave. The boy began to shudder more violently, and clutching his face, he groaned, “Stay! Stay!” I cannot tell you how long the battle raged, but it was unlike anything I have ever experienced. He began fighting to push my hands off him and pull my arms from around him, but I kept rebuking the demons in Jesus name. And finally, the shaking stopped, and the boy called upon the name of Jesus. The demons were gone. We prayed, and the boy was clearly transformed.
Dear friends, can we ever be too busy? Could the work I needed to accomplish that night really have been worth neglecting a soul in need? Thank God that He checked me that night, for, because of it, another soul is safe in His Kingdom. Another soul has been torn from slavery to the accursed one. Another soul is free from bondage to sin. Forget paperwork. Forget deadlines.
Can we ever be that busy?
Priorities.
Life is full of "what if" moments--those moments when you stand back a look at a situation, whether good or bad, and imagine how things might have gone if you had done things differently. Without question, these moments are usually pointless, as they only serve to waste time and cause eventual depression. "What if" moments are not productive, unless, of course, you make them so.
A mere seven hours ago I drove towards the main building on campus, preparing to lead evening vespers, only to realize that I had left my Bible by the door at home. After apprehending it, I crossed paths with Sir Julien, who informed me that there was some anxious anticipation that I had not yet arrived inside. I made my way inside to hear the lively, almost frighteningly so, songs of worship, and pulled out my Bible, and glanced at a card with notes I had jotted down earlier in church, preparing to speak that evening. A mere 20 minutes earlier I had been sound asleep, but awakened and roused quickly, knowing the time limit. Now I heard the call for opening song and saw everyone stand.
"I might have prepared better," I thought to myself. The notes were basic. Five passages, one illustration, and two Bible stories. On a wing and a prayer, I walked toward the front, bumbled over an introduction, and offered opening prayer.
Fast-forward.
Appeal time. I recapped the points on friendship, and called for all those willing to have an unashamed relationship with God to stand. Most did. I exhaled softly and offered a closing prayer. As I made my way towards the back, some of the kids approached me, stating that they enjoyed and appreciated the message. Moments later, several staff members commended me for bringing such a timely message. I smiled and gave glory to God, knowing I really hadn't done anything.
The evening waxed late, I made my way home, warmed up a snack, and retreated to the small confines of my room. Tired, but not sleepy, I pulled up a random movie online that looked amusing enough, and leaned back to pass the time. Now here I am, taking stock of the day.
What if...
What if, I say, what if I had taken the time to ensure that my heart and mind were fully prepared to present the message? What if I had determined to pray and not faint? What if I neglected the sleep before preaching and engaged it afterward instead of wasting my time with some foolishness through the middle of the night? Could not the Spirit have moved more freely? Would not the effects have been more powerful?
Were this an occasional occurrence, I would have naught for which to abase myself, but timelessly, consistently, I find myself to be an unfaithful steward of the most costly commodity--one that cannot be bought or sold, made nor destroyed, only used or wasted--time. One of my favorite authors made a statement that if we would but make the Word of God the object of our focus, we would find no need to look for further revelation and inspiration.
And now begin the hours of Sunday, a day upon which most men in my country find able time to waste--3 to 6 hours, if not 9--Football Sunday. Now I determine to engage myself thusly, that I no longer leave the "what if" moment unimproved, but rather embrace the Word for a solid hour to see if the world becomes less tasteful and more wasteful. And then, a day before, how much better suited may I be to rightly deal the Word of truth, in word, in conversation, in deed? Time will tell.
Next time, do yourself a favor. Make your next "what if" moment a productive one.