SORROW CAN'T CANCEL JOY

“Jesus, the Son of God, is the man of sorrows, but also the man of complete joy.” (Henri Nouwen, "The Return of the Prodigal)

Just this morning my wife asked me, "How did you sleep?" I'm supposed to answer, good or bad. If I woke up for an hour, then it was bad even though I may have slept a solid six hours before I woke up. 

We often feel that way about joy and sorrow. We're like the kid in the ice cream shop faced with vanilla or chocolate, orange or grape sherbet. You can have one but not both.   

We have good days and bad days. We say, "When will life be normal? Can't I have just one fun day with no problems?" 

I find myself feeling that way during sabbath. I'm not religious about it, but I practice a discipline of ceasing from normal work one 24-hour period every week. I have an agenda in my head to do all the things that fill my tank: reading, piddling in the garage, gardening, a nap, even splitting wood. 

But sometimes, emergencies happen. My loose "agenda" for fun and rest changes abruptly. And I can get frustrated, even to the point of anger. "Well, there goes my sabbath." 

In "The Return of the Prodigal," Henri Nouwen writes how all the sorrow in the world doesn't cancel God's joy. God sees it all: rape, war, child abuse, murder and grief. At the same time, He hears a child's laughter, a choir singing, and a prodigal's prayer. And yet, for Him, one doesn't cancel the other. Jesus, the image of the invisible God, was a man of sorrows and a God of unspeakable joy. He is the widow who finds her one lost coin, the shepherd who finds his one lost sheep and the Father who runs to meet his wayward son. And there is joy in heaven over the one, He says. (see Luke 15)

For us, sadness cancels happiness. Bad news cancels good news. Happy times are here or they're gone. Suffering cancels joy. 

For the last many years, we have held a Good Friday service. We reflect on the cross, and His suffering. We often have sensory stations where you can smell the sour wine, feel the nails, see a crown of thorns. The lighting is low. The songs are more reflective and provoking. We still call it "Good Friday." But the joy is tinged with sorrow and the goodness is bittersweet. 

For many of us, it makes Resurrection Day, even more glorious.

It reminds me that suffering cannot cancel joy. Sadness cannot snuff out the flicker of happiness. An emergency can't ruin a sabbath. The sound of tanks rolling into Ukraine can't drown out the singing of heaven. A funeral dirge can't eliminate the feeling of sunshine on your face. A cloudy day can't ruin the wonder of a field of red tulips. 

The suffering of this temporary world can't cancel true joy.         

Four Ways to Cope When You Are Ghosted

"I don't know what I did but she apparently thinks I do." The older Mom of an adult daughter wept as she told the story. "I thought we had a good relationship. Of course there were moments when we were frustrated and downright angry with each other. But I don't recall any major fight before the long silence." Days, weeks, then months. Nothing. Although the Mom continued to reach out, there was little or no response to any of her calls. And the worst part? No explanation. Until one day the Mom drove to the daughter's house, walked to the door and knocked. When the daughter came to the door, the Mom asked if she could come in. "No. You're not welcome here." When the Mom pleaded and said, "I don't understand. Can we talk?" "No. You know what you did and I won't let it go." Then she shut the door. As far as I know the Mom and the daughter never reconciled. 

I've had experiences like that. Maybe you have. Today they call it being "ghosted." It's when someone suddenly breaks off a friendship or relationship and there is no explanation. When you text or call, there is no response or if there is one, it's one or two words, or worse...an emoticon. Argh. It could be a long-term friendship like one I heard of. Two couples who played cards every other week, frequently had date nights together and went on short road trips. Then after one card game that got a little squirrelly, one couple got ticked off and stormed out the door. Although the other party tried to reconcile, it was over. Silence. A friendship that was years in the making was suddenly over. Ghosted. 

We expect things like this from the world. But it's shocking when it happens in God's family. In my view, it's simply unchristian. How can we "ghost" people and still obey this? 

Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. (Colossians 3:13 NLT) 

Yes, I recognize that some friendships can't be the same after major fallout. Boundaries have to be exercised to maintain emotional safety. That's understandable and healthy. But forgiveness and restoration of relationship are two different things.

Still, how do we cope when we are ghosted? It feels like someone has suddenly gone missing or like we're living with the specter of a loved one's suicide. It's the unanswered questions that you're forced to live with: "What did I do? I don't understand. What about all the years of friendship? Were they faking?"

Here are a few ways to help us cope: 

1. Realize it may have nothing to do with you. 

It's hard the first time you realize not everyone likes you. Usually, it happens as a child or teenager. We begin life thinking that if someone doesn't like us, it's something we did wrong. We correct it. We make up. We move on. But then you discover that there are some people who simply don't like you. Full stop. Hopefully, some mature adult in your life helped you understand, "This doesn't mean that you're unlikeable or ugly. It's just life. Some people don't like some people and you may never understand why. You're gonna be okay." 

The same goes for being ghosted. It may have nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. There are biological, emotional, even physical reasons that people change. Something like what happened when I got sick after eating corn chowder. To this day, the smell or sight of it makes me nauseous. I can't explain it. I just don't like it and I can't help it. And that has nothing to do with the cook. 

2. Treat them like an adult even if they are acting like a child. 

Ghosting looks childlike. For them, it feels like a mature decision. As an adult, people have the right to choose their relationships, their friends and their church. 

I've had to remind myself of this when someone leaves our church. For me, it's personal. For them, it often isn't. I can't forget their cards of encouragement, their hugs and kind words. I thought we were friends. What I discover is that it's usually not personal for them. They simply made a choice: "We prefer this children's ministry." Or, "We don't want to drive this far anymore. We want a church in our neighborhood." Adults have the right to make those kind of decisions. 

This goes for friendship or love. We get to choose our friends. We get to choose who we spend life with. Family? Not so much. God chose our family---like it or not. We can unfriend someone on Facebook. We can't undo the blood bond. Yes, we can draw safe boundaries and sometimes we must. But adults have the right to choose friends--even if they act like a child and ghost you. 

3. Pray for them. 

There's a reason Jesus said, But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, (Matt. 5:44). And it's not because Jesus was trying to increase our grief or relational difficulty. It's because prayer brings about change. 

You and I don't know all the variables that brought about the silent departure. For all you know, it could be tragedy, a secret affair, or an addiction. They likely need God's help. Whatever it was that precipitated the ghosting may be undone through the power of prayer and you may be reconciled. 

But the best part? It changes me. When I pray for those who have ghosted me, it softens the callouses of my heart. Compassion that comes from the Holy Spirit begins to flow through me. Like a clogged sink that is filled with the gunk of yesterday's lunch, it's a relief when it swirls down the drain and the sink is clean again. Through prayer, the debris of hurt is cleansed away and compassion begins to flow. 

4. Learn the gift of lament. 

There's a reason there's a book in the Bible called Lamentations. And the Psalms contain 42 songs of lament, of which 30 are individual. This reminds me that godly people weep. Christians cry. Followers of Jesus grieve. 

When you've been ghosted and there appears to be no reconciliation, no explanation and no remedy, one of the best things you can do is have a good cry. Don't ignore the grief. Feel it. Take a day off. Sit near a waterfall or under a big old tree and read one of those psalms of lament. Like Psalm 42. 

Consider vv. 3-4: 

My tears have been my food

day and night,

while people say to me all day long,

“Where is your God?”

4These things I remember as I pour out my soul.

Pour it out to God in a safe place. Tears, even cries of anguish, are not a sign of a lack of faith. Jesus wept. And no one had more faith than he did. 

And finally, a word to those who "ghost." Be big enough to tell the truth. If there's a reason you are ending a relationship, leaving a friendship, exiting a church, then say it. Be concise. Be honest. And be kind. Whatever you sow, you will reap. 

Have you been ghosted? How did you cope? What helped? Let me hear from you.    

DEHUMANIZING THE IMAGE OF GOD

When I was a kid, late October was the time for the state fair in northwest Louisiana. I remember the strange sensations of the midway. The smell of cotton candy, corn dogs, and Coca-Cola spilled on the hot asphalt. The cacophony of the carousel and the whirling zipper ride with teenage girls screaming with glee. But stranger than all was the loudspeaker blasting the recorded promo in front of the trailer with faded images of the bearded lady, the midget, and others. "Come and witness these strange human oddities," the announcer bellowed. Our family never paused there and my parents never said anything that I recall. We never asked to see the bearded lady or any of her cohorts. And I'm glad. 

Human beings come in all shapes and sizes. Some like me have skinnier legs than others or a bald head. Some have petite noses and beautiful lips. Or bushy eyebrows and no beard. But all have the image of God. 

As a Christian, I am pro-life. I believe that every human, born or pre-born, is marked with an indelible mark of God's handiwork. Yes, the world is broken and flawed. Disease and deformity are real and heartbreaking. Tragedy happens. Sin has left its mark on creation and continues to. But like a dollar bill that has been abused and torn, it still contains a watermark that identifies it as genuine currency of the United States Treasury. The value is still there as marked. 

Every human being still has value—even those we despise: abusers, rapists, and Islamic terrorists. Lying politicians, extremists, and Ponzi-schemers. We all have a list of those we are tempted to put on that "less than human" list. Many of our lists have commonalities. Who doesn't have some disgusting feelings for those who profit from child-porn? Yet, they too, are people who bear the image of God, although distorted by sin and evil. They were once a baby, fragile and crying, dependent on some other human to love and care for them. 

In yet one more political conversation with a seasoned Christian recently, I was saddened at how they spoke of their political enemy. There was the smirk, the scorn, the absolute disgust in their voice; speech that sounded vaguely similar to the announcer on the midway, "Witness the gross deformity of this person!" In every other way, this believer shows compassion for the lost, a love for God and His people. My wife mentioned on the way home, "It's like they don't see a human being behind that political position." I agreed. As much as I disagree with a politician's stance on the issues, saddened by the impact on the land I love, I must not forget that there is a human being behind that rhetoric. 

When have I sinned by forgetting the Imago Dei in someone? 
--the popular preacher who twists God's Word for financial gain
--the guy who collects welfare and abuses the system, even though he could work
--the rude server, flight attendant, or receptionist
--the panhandler who degrades my neighborhood by standing on the corner with a sign

I am not immune to dehumanizing the people I don't like. Wouldn't the world be better without them? That's not for me to decide, any more than it is for me to support abortion. Being pro-life compels me to find value in every person, from the womb to the tomb. 

"In the image of God, He created them" (Gen. 1:27).  

Do You Know Who You're Talking To?

I still feel like a beginner. You would think that after 50+ years of praying, I would be better at it. The questions still hammer me: 

·       Is God bored with my conversation? 

·       Have I prayed what's most important? 

·       What business is left undone? 

·       How selfish are my prayers? 

·       I wonder how Paul, the apostle, would advise me regarding my prayer life? 

So, I continue to learn, but also to beware of the pride factor. Feeling like a beginner isn't all bad. It is the professional pray-ers that God turns a deaf ear to. As Jesus said, "And when you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard for their many words" (Matt 6:7 ESV). Or might we say, "for their well-crafted words"? 

I recently listened to John Owuchekwa's book, Prayer: How Praying Together Shapes the Church (which I highly recommend.) He has a fine section called, "Do you know who you're talking to?" and relates the story of how his Mom would ask that very question when he had a request. Many of us heard that phrase as a warning from an authority figure. Kind of like, "Be careful, boy. Watch that attitude." But in his case, it was often as a plea for faith: "C'mon! Quit asking like that. Don't you remember? I'm your Mom. I can do something about that."

A friend of mine makes it a practice to pray regularly with men and women before appointing them to leadership. It seems like an “of course” thing to do, but he does it from another standpoint. He says you can learn so much about a person's theology by how they pray. I agree. When people pray, you find out they either know or don’t know who they they’re talking to.  They may reflect a small view of God with chatter and hip talk as if they are talking to a radio personality or a timidity that says, “Why should God listen to me,” ignorant of the gospel truth that by grace we are God’s chosen and beloved. And I’m prone to fall into both camps from time to time.

When I fall into the “just wanna chat with my buddy, Jesus” trap, I need a good dose of Isaiah,

"To whom then will you compare me,
    that I should be like him? says the Holy One.
²⁶ Lift up your eyes on high and see:
    who created these?
He who brings out their host by number,
    calling them all by name;
by the greatness of his might
    and because he is strong in power,
    not one is missing." (40:25,26)

And when I fall into the “why should God listen to me” camp, I need to hear Jesus’ words again:

"Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:9-11)

Both are in the Bible. Both are true. Our God is both immanent and transcendent. Both as close as the breath you breathe and as far as the proverbial edge of the universe. He is high and holy and he is meek and lowly. This should be reflected in our prayers.

Worship leaders as well as pastors would do well to remember this. God’s people learn to pray by listening to its leaders. They get their theology from the prayers you pray as well as the songs you sing. Give some preparation to your prayers as well as your songs and your sermon. Even if you need to jot down a note or two. Where did we get the idea that prayer is only effective if it’s off the cuff? Does your spouse appreciate your thoughts less if they are written down? Do they say, “Your words don’t count because you thought about what you would say”? Spontaneous is often honest, but isn’t it sometimes pretentious? When you feel the pressure to perform on the spot haven’t you sometimes said what you didn’t mean to say? Spontaneous doesn’t necessarily equal honesty.

I went through a period of a year or more where I prayed the prayers of Paul. I typed them out on a half-page and put it in my Bible; notably Colossians 1:9-12, Php. 1:9-11; Eph. 1:15-21, 3:14-21. I didn’t just read those verses but they often became a launchpad to some other more spur-of-the-moment prayers. I found the prayers of Paul shaped my theology and gave me verbiage for things I often felt but didn’t know how to articulate. (To my previous point, wise is the lover who takes some tips from Shakespeare or Ed Sheeran.)

Like me, you may feel like a beginner at prayer. Stay at it. Have confidence that as Dallas Willard said, “'Now when you pray, Jesus will walk right up to you and he will listen to you...”

A BEAUTIFUL ELUSIVE TRAIT

My wife and I have a standing joke. She loves the word "cute" and I'm still trying to decide. Before marriage, I didn't know the multitude of things that could be considered cute: a puppy, shoes, an over-stuffed chair, artwork, and an over-forty husband. For me, cute was reserved for girls but not guys so when my wife would say on a Sunday morning as I'm walking out the door, "You're cute," I didn't know what to say. "Thank you" felt odd and "You think so?" felt worse. So I went with, "I know" and we have a chuckle. Why? Because we generally disapprove of anyone who would reply that way. Even if we think it's true, it smells arrogant, like a woman who is proud of her designer perfume and uses it too generously.  

Pride stinks. At least in others. I can always recognize it in "those people" but it's more subtle in myself. I find it an absolute turn-off in a prospective friend and the way to kill a long-term camaraderie. I mean, when have you listened to someone talk non-stop about themselves for an hour and said, "Wow, I can't wait until we do this again." Nope. We look for ways to exit. We try cues. We pray for a text, a phone call, anything to give reason for escape. Pride in others is repulsive. 

But do I excuse it in myself? "Hey, it's my turn." And how do I acquire pride's polar opposite--that elusive trait of humility? There are no quantum leaps to humility. No conferences to attend: "Join the top leaders in America and learn how they achieved humility." But it's a beautiful quality. At least the kind of humility that is truly Christian. 

It's easier to describe what humility isn't than what it is. It isn't groveling. It isn't self-deprecation (which is closer to pride than we are prone to admit.) Neither is it necessarily shy. Even shyness can be connected to self-preservation. Rather, Christian humility is others-focused. 

Some of C.S. Lewis' snapshots on humility help us. Like this one, 

"Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call “humble” nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him...He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all." (C.S. Lewis, "Christian Behavior, 1944, p. 49)

A humility test might be, "When I leave a conversation, did I spend more time thinking about myself, my words, my experience, or them, their experience, their heart?" That may be the test, but how do I get there? How do I acquire such a beautiful characteristic? 

Here's what I can do. I can practice putting others first by considering their desires. I can serve and give anonymously. I can practice gratitude for others' abilities both in public and in private prayer. I can celebrate my enemies' success. (Ouch. I was doing okay until that last one!)

Most importantly, I can embrace humility by frequent reminders to worship the Creator more than the creature. I can gather in worship as one of many on the common ground of grace before the throne of God--where I don't deserve to stand yet take my place among the millions of blood-washed recipients of a holy God's kindness. 

So are you with me? Will you register for our next conference on humility? The speakers are gonna be great. The music will be off the chain... 

Just kidding. 

Cussing Christians

On the weekend, I told how I grew up hearing, "Real Christians don't cuss" and how this falls short of helping us understand the impact of words. Now, I'm not suggesting that you should start dropping four-letter bombs but there are plenty examples of more destructive speech. 

Snide comments. Sneering jabs. Passive-aggressive rolling of the eyes. None of it is becoming of a kind, mature adult, let alone someone who follows Jesus. 

In my small group later the same day, we discussed the challenges of being aware of harming others yet preserving some latitude for humor in friendship. For example, I love great sarcasm and irony. It's a trademark of southern culture. Friends, especially guys, do this as a rite of passage and inclusion. You know you're accepted in the group if people are comfortable enough to tease with some sarcasm. Our Elders do it in every meeting. An example might be as a dude is drinking his healthy smoothie: "So what is it this time? Australian pine bark extract and goat toe jam?" We have a good laugh and the banter helps with the seriousness and heaviness of ministry. At least, in my view. 

But I've found that it doesn't always translate. Humor is subjective. I have a friend who thinks the movie "Kangaroo Jack" is the funniest movie she's ever seen. Me? I don't get it. I didn't think "Home Alone" or any of its 10 sequels were funny. I know. I'm weird. But so are you. Go on RottenTomatoes.Com and you'll find polar-opposite reviews on every so-called comedy.

This means that we need to know each other well enough to know what is/isn't funny. Someone who grew up with a passive-aggressive Mom who had a barb in every sarcastic reply may be triggered by what you think is an endearing jab. This is the first rule of comedy and public speaking: know your audience. Using the word "randy" in Australia or the word "bloody" in the UK would communicate something you didn't intend to. On Sunday I said, "I'm a big tweaker"--meaning that I love to improve things. I've often said, "Small tweaks help you reach mountain peaks." I learned something following the talk. According to a fellow elder, I had every recovering addict's attention because they refer to meth users as "tweakers." Uh, that's not what I meant.

Forbearing with each other in love means that I need to be socially aware. Some things should be off-limits in humor no matter who you are: 

-- jokes about stereo-types of masculinity and femininity (I want to devote a future blog to this one. But cracking a joke about a boy running "like a girl" is wrong at so many levels. What girl exactly? The soccer star Mia Hamm? Or the Olympic runner Tori Bowie?)

-- sexual prowess. I've been around guys who boast of their sex drive. Sorry. I can't see the apostle Peter laughing with his protégé Timothy like this. It's not appropriate for any gentleman.  

 -- jokes about someone's physical features like their short stature, skinny body or obesity. 

There are more but I'll pause there. I've been guilty of many offenses in my speech. I've had to repent to people and to God so many times I've lost count. I'm a man whose tongue has taken me places I regret. I need lots of grace. You do too. 

At the same time, I'm hoping my friends never become so "politically correct" that we can't serve up some friendly jabs to each other. There's enough in this world to be uptight about. Some of my best memories are sitting around a campfire with guys laughing about dumb things we've done or said. But I should never forget my audience. 

This quote by John Newton in "Controversy" has been haunting me the last few days. In it he advises another minister of how to think before criticizing a fellow brother: 

“The Lord loves him and bears with him; therefore you must not despise him, or treat him harshly. The Lord bears with you likewise, and expects that you should show tenderness to others, from a sense of the much forgiveness you need yourself. In a little while you will meet in heaven; he will then be dearer to you than the nearest friend you have upon earth is to you now. Anticipate that period in your thoughts; and though you may find it necessary to oppose his errors, view him personally as a kindred soul, with whom you are to be happy in Christ forever.”

  

LEAD YOURSELF

There are signs recovery is taking place. The major disruption may be behind us but the fallout is still evident. The research regarding the impact on emotional health and family is a work in progress. But a couple of facts seem clear:

• People who were self-disciplined before COVID are doing better during and after the pandemic. 

• People who lacked self-discipline are faring worse.

Surprised? Not really. Self-discipline leads to flourishing. Without it, we simply don’t do as well. It is the path to freedom. 

Discipline is doing something within my power that I do to enable me to do what I cannot do by direct effort.^[i] Discipline paves the way to greater freedom.

You can’t play the violin by sheer willpower in one single day. But what is in your power to do? Scales, study, watching instructional YouTube videos, and taking lessons.

In the beginning you have no freedom. You are locked into playing “Twinkle twinkle little star.” You cannot play Beethoven. It isn’t in your power. You are not free to play Beethoven.

I play piano and studied jazz at a local university. Great improvisation is the goal of jazz. For the non-musical it might be described as artistic freedom. It’s to create music on the fly within a certain structure of keys and chords. Sort of like riding a bicycle with no hands.

I can improvise a little. But when I hear someone like the famous Jazz-pianist, Joey Alexander, I realize that he enjoys a freedom to improvise that I’ve never known. He’s free to play in any key and over any structure of keys and chords because he did what he had power to do and now is able to do what he couldn’t do by sheer willpower.

Discipline = freedom. Not boredom. Not joyless, no frills life. As disciples, as followers of Jesus, as leaders, and examples to others, as people who want to grow in their craft, there are habits (disciplines) that you can practice or NOT that will lead us toward freedom to become better leaders.

What should I do, then?

A better question is: Who do you want to be? Who do you admire?  Decide that. Then do the habits they did in order to have the freedom they had.

Do you want to lead others? How are you doing in leading yourself? The less supervision you need the more freedom you’ll achieve. The more supervision you need, the less freedom. That’s why we have prisons. That’s where people go who are unable to supervise themselves.

Raw talent is inspiring. I’ve met countless people with amazing gifts—an innate sense of humor, natural beauty or a great speaking voice. Others with charisma galore who are a delight to be around. But sometimes they are infected with sloth. Lazy busy.

I remember a guy I’ll call Mick. He had an infectious laugh. He was a blast to be around. He went to college for two years. He studied leadership and theology. He had a fantastic sense of humor and great timing in his speaking. But he couldn’t lose his slothful ways. Today, he’d rather be playing pool or video games and throwing down a few beers. His natural talent and charismatic personality could only take him so far. No one wants to follow him because he can’t lead himself.

The wise man says the slothful has something to learn from the ant who has no overseer. The wise and diligent person supervises himself. She works when nobody is looking.

Not so the slothful. He needs a chief because he cannot achieve by himself. Not only that, but the wise man says the sloth lives only in the present. Not the wise ant:

"She prepares her bread in summer and gathers her food in harvest. How long will you lie there, O sluggard? When will you arise from your sleep? A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest, and poverty will come upon you like a robber, and want like an armed man." 

(Proverbs 6:8-11)

The self-disciplined person recognizes the season. The ant lives for the present too, but she prepares for winter. She voluntarily enters some hardship in order to be ready for the reality of winter.

In summer, there is sunshine. There are long days, tomatoes, peaches and swimming in the pool. But winter is coming, ready or not.

The slothful? He thinks the good times will always last. “I’m making money today, I’ll always make good money.” He doesn’t save for a downturn in the economy, for sickness, for slow times, for children. If it’s summertime now, it will always be summertime. He doesn’t plan for a rainy day. ‘Why do that when the sun is shining?’ Wise building contractors know that January will be slow. Successful car salesmen know sales will not be the same in November as they are in April. They lead themselves by preparing for what’s coming.

Occasionally, as an elder, I will prepare a couple for marriage. After some initial conversation, I let them know that before I will marry them, they must see a counselor and complete the pre-marital sessions called, PREPARE.^[ii] I let them know it will cost them several hundred dollars. It’s surprising how many couples will wince at the price tag even though they will gladly fork over that much for a wedding cake. They will try and find a shortcut through the sessions, perhaps even find another pastor, because they think the burning-hot-love they feel right now will be how they always feel. I reason with them that relationship trouble and possible divorce will cost them a lot more than a few hundred dollars! Prepare for winter in relationships.

Life has seasons. Winter is coming. Prepare now with self-discipline.

"A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest,
and poverty will come upon you like a robber,
and want like an armed man."

Slothfulness leads to loss. Notice how the wise man says, “a little” three times. It’s not the big choices that sabotage self-leadership, it’s often the little ones.  

Derek Kidner comments on the slothful as one who “deceives himself by the smallness of his surrenders…as inches and minutes of opportunity slip away.”

The ant recognizes harvest time is short. Momentum is short-lived. Youth is short. As the ant leads herself, so the leader must lead himself while there is opportunity.
We often lose sight of this. We miss:

• Opportunity to raise kids while you have youthful energy
• Opportunity to go to college before parenting
• Opportunity to train children for adulthood before they leave the nest
• Opportunity to invest time in your personal growth instead of the next season of your favorite sitcom

So how do I begin to lead myself? The solution isn’t only to “just do it” as Nike would say. For the Jesus-follower, it is also to understand who you’re accountable to.

“Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord.” (Romans 12:11)

The writer, Paul, first gives us the negative: Don’t be slothful in zeal. Give up your passivity when it comes to passion. Then the positive: Keep an eager attitude. Keep your spirit flame-hot. Then he gives us the why: you are serving the Lord.

Paul says it in another way here:

"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ." (Colossians 3:23,24)

Self-leadership isn’t just about you. Neither is it just so your team can have a better leader. It’s for Jesus.

John Bunyan describes this vividly in Pilgrim’s Progress,

My name is Pilgrim. Yesterday, at dusk I met along my way
An enemy. His name was Sloth. He tried to lure me, like a moth, exhausted, to his idle flames.

As always, he used other names:
Relief and Respite and Repose and Rest, and Leisure…
“So, Pilgrim,” Sloth replied, “you’ll earn your heaven with your arts? Go learn your Bible better. Saved by grace, not works, the book is clear. Go chase your heaven, laboring. That’s not my taste.”

“My heaven, Sloth” I answered, “chased Me long before I found my way to it. Grace, to be sure! The day will show again the half-text you left out. Sloth, we are made to do: We are his workmanship in Christ, made for good works. He sacrificed His life that we might live in them. He the vine, and we the stem, and they, the fruit. Is not the fruit of love our life?”

“Pointless dispute!” Sloth muttered to himself. He turned to go, and said to me, “You’ve spurned My offer of sweet rest. Go waste Your life. You are a fool. You’ll taste your sorrow. Mark my words.”

And he was gone.  And so, one victory obtained, my weary soul was kept. And I lay down my head and slept.

John Bunyan’s Pilgrim, experiences a personal victory. The victory isn’t over the fictional Sloth as much as it is over self. He is victorious over the sluggard within.

When I feel my soul getting numb, passionless, when I’m tempted to not give the full time needed in preparation for a message and instead fritter away my time surfing the web---I remind myself of the gospel of grace and that I’m serving the One who gave Himself up for me, who is listening to the cries of my heart. That’s when I say, “Lord unless you breathe life into this message and into my discipline, it will be lifeless.” I am reminding myself that my paycheck is no reward for self-leadership. It is more. I’m serving the Lord.

When I’m tempted to quit because of laziness, foolishness, despair, or weariness, I will sometimes say it out loud: “I do this for Jesus!”

LEAD YOURSELF.

[i] Dallas Willard, “Live Life to the Full,” https://dwillard.org/articles/live-life-to-the-full

[ii] https://www.prepare-enrich.com/