(Don't) Take Some Initiative

A major component of growing up is learning to take initiative. Kids complain to their moms that they're starving to death only to hear their mom reply, "Then get up and get something to eat." Athletes complain to their coach that they want more playing time only to hear their coach say, "Then get yourself to practice early and show me you deserve it." In the world, successful people are defined as those who see what they want and do whatever it takes to get it, regardless of the cost to themselves and those around them.

In my own life, I have seen my desire to take initiative, to make things happen, slowly creep into my walk with Christ. When I see a situation that I feel needs to change, I pray about it, wait 5 seconds, and then jump in to see how I can best alter my circumstances. When I feel that God needs to step in somewhere, I pray about it, give it a minute, and then jump in to give him a hand. I fear that God is not going to take initiative so I choose not to wait on him.

The strange thing is that any time God has ever done anything for man, he took the initiative. I didn't think at the foundation of time, "Hey. You know what you should do Lord? You should create the world and everything in it." I didn't blow the whistle 2,000 years ago and ask him to send his son to come and save mankind. I didn't ask him to find me almost 18 years ago and invite me into relationship with him. He did that. While I was still weak, Christ died for the ungodly. While I was still a slave to fear and sin, Jesus made a way for me to be free. Sometimes I look at my life and I think, "How are you going to work this out Lord? How are you going to get me from where I am today to where I need to be tomorrow?" When I don't see clearly how God is going to move things around on my behalf, I panic and start moving myself around. I forget that he will take the initiative. When I see someone I care about in a place I think they should move on from, I move in to move them. I forget that God knows how to take initiative.

The really, really scary thing about my not-so-little self-initiative problem is that it is a control problem. It's an idolatry problem. I am actually taking Jesus off the throne of my heart, telling him he is not big enough or wise enough or good enough, and taking a seat somewhere that belongs to him. Psalm 127 says, "Unless the Lord builds the house, the builder builds in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives his beloved sleep." My controlling is in vain. Whatever I build is in vain if it is the work of my own hands. Whatever I guard so vigilantly is not safe if it is under my protection and not the Lord's. Whatever I try so hard to keep is exactly what I am sure to lose if it has not been given me by God. 

So I ask, Lord, what do I do now? And he responds in all of his love, "Nothing."

Let's Get You Home

This morning in class, a professor asked me something no one ever has before. I've been asked many times about my dreams, visions, and passions and I have gladly spilled each time as much information as was appropriate for the moment. In this past season, God has been doing a new thing in my heart, and the mission and vision for my life has been more deeply and intricately developed than ever before. I have been able to more easily define what I have been created for and who my heart yearns for, and recently put on paper for the first time a rough draft of the ministry the Lord has implanted in my heart. My professor didn't ask me about any of this, though. He didn't want to know my vision, or my game plan, or my life goals after this final year of college. My professor simply asked, "What is your personal philosophy for ministry?"

We went around the room one student at a time as each person shared their own personal philosophy for ministry. It was such a beautiful thing to see the tender hearts of my peers and to dream of everything God has for each one of them in future seasons. Some discussed a philosophy of servanthood, others a philosophy of evangelism, and others a philosophy of obedience. Then came my turn. I introduced myself to the professor, told him my major, where I was from, and that this was my senior year here at Oral Roberts University. I had been thinking for the past 30 minutes while others students were speaking about how I would answer this foreign question when my turn finally came. There only seemed to be one appropriate answer for me.

My philosophy for ministry is to take people by the hand and show them the way back home.

So many times people wake up one day and realize that they are a million miles from home. How they got there, they couldn't tell you. How to get back, they have no clue. Like the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15, they have found themselves miles away from their father, empty-handed, yearning to be anywhere but the place they have fallen. They want to know what it would feel like to sit down for dinner with their family, laughing and delighting in their father, but which way is it to their father's house? If they ever found it, would He let them in? The reality is that they are not going to find their way home on their own. They need someone to intersect their life and say, "Let's get you home. I know the way." We can't make the journey for them- it must be their decision- but we can make the journey with them.

The thing about accompanying someone on their journey home is that sometimes it can get messy. Those whose hands we hold have the tendency to hurt us, to kick up dirt that will soil our clothes, to wander in circles and get distracted when all we want to do is take them the straight shot back home. The journey takes time. What we think should be a two-night excursion can turn into weeks or months or years of venturing. As people are being restored and healed and brought back to health, a process takes place that has no determined time frame. It isn't easy, and though it is full of joy, it isn't always fun.

The reward, however, comes as our new friend rounds the corner and sees the Father standing at the door looking into the distance awaiting his arrival. He sees his Father take off running not away from him, but toward him, coming to embrace him. His Father takes him into the house and throws him a party to celebrate his arrival. His son that was lost is now found, and we got to be a small part of that journey. What greater privilege do we have as sons and daughters of the Father than to be sent by our dad to take the hand of our little brothers and sisters and lead them home?