To my shame, I have not always been able to say this with full sincerity. Sure, there have been moments of deep appreciation for the church and its members, but my experience with the church plant has been one that has been characterized by commitment, principle, dogged devotion, and even gratitude, but dare I say it – not by love.

I consider myself a man of principle and conviction. When the church plant first started, I was fully committed in deed and action. It was something I had committed to, I knew it was the right place for me, I knew it was something that I wanted to be a part of. But my heart wasn’t fully there.

Last week, I evaluated myself through the lens of Galatians 5:22-23, the fruit of the Spirit – at the very top of the list stands the characteristic of love.

After looking at myself as honestly as I could manage against the lens of Scripture, I was crushed to realize how little love I have for the church that I helped to plant.

What am I doing wrong? Am I not serving the church? Am I not consistent? Am I not faithful? Do I not do my part? Don’t I lead praise on Fridays and serve on Sundays? Don’t I teach Bible Studies? Don’t I lead small groups? Don’t I try to draw people’s eyes toward God and Christ?

Am I not “doing” all that I can to be a part of this?

During our Superflock Christmas party on Friday, Pastor John shared some thoughts, basically baring his pastoral heart. Seeing his heart showed me clearly what was wrong with mine.

Love isn’t doing. Love is giving.

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her,

Eph 5:25

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.

Jn 3:16

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

Gal 2:20

Doing is just an action. Giving entails a real cost.

A hired hand can do an action. But a shepherd will give.

When did I become so small-hearted? When did I become so unwilling to give of myself to love others, and not just out of principle?

Yesterday, as I spent time with people from church, I was humbled. I realized how much my church has cared for me and in comparison, how little love I have for my church, and how little of myself I actually “give” to others.

I’ve been doing a lot, but not giving a lot. And therefore, not loving a lot.

But as I consciously began to turn my mind and my thoughts outward to those around me, I wanted to give.

I, for one, am sick of being small hearted: caring only about what benefits me, only caring about people with whom I get along, doing only what I am comfortable with, or convenient for me.

I can fully attest that it is tremendously painful to be large-hearted: to care deeply for others, give of yourself for them, inconvenience yourself for them, sacrifice what is valuable for them, put yourself on the line for them, only to be unappreciated, misunderstood, or even criticized and taken advantage of.

But I can also attest that to live small heartedly is to live without a pulse. It is to grow distant and numb, to a point where you don’t feel anything but apathy.

The choice is clear, yet not so easy. To be alive and hurt or dead and numb?

I feel as if my heart has been called back from being in a coma. I’m always cautious to say that I’m fully back on track after realizing things like this, because I know that real change takes time to root itself in someone’s life, and I tend to distrust good intentions, even in my own heart (actually, especially in my own heart). But I have definitely turned a corner.

I love my church.

Working from 5am to 3pm in and of itself can take it out of a guy. Throw in evening classes, taking over leading praise team again, and now shepherding and teaching for the new Friday flocks at church, and by the time the end of the week rolls around, I feel like the tank is bone dry, and the sleep debt needs to be repaid with compound interest. Add in work on Saturdays (hopefully not for too much longer!), and by Saturday evening the week really needs to end.

At least now I won’t have to do the commute back and forth from Daly City to the South Bay. Phew.

Have I been tired? Unbelievably so.

Have I been burned out? Only when I was working for the approval of man.

I don’t share all this to brag about my discipline, impress you with the amount of activity in my life, or draw your sympathies. I share because of a deep conviction that has formed in my heart about the nature of work, ministry, and burnout.

The past year, I’ve thought a lot about the idea of burnout. I found it hard to reconcile what I knew about the nature of work and service to God and our standard assumptions about what constitutes burning out and trying to guard ourselves from that.

Many a time, I have written long posts elaborating on the issue, most of which I have not published, not because anything I’ve written has been inaccurate (as far as I can tell), but because I felt my heart was not in the right place when writing.

A few months ago, I looked ahead and saw that I would have more on my plate than ever before, and that if there was ever a time to really evaluate my convictions on burning out, this would be the time to do it.

For the past few months, I’ve really lived at the edge of my capacity, but have mustered up as much discipline as I can, and have perpetually checked my heart as to what was driving me.

When working for the Lord, I was exhausted but wanted to work even harder.

When working for myself and for the approval of men, I was tired and also irritable, grumbling, and stressed out.

Yes, lots of activity tends to make us more prone to stress and burnout, but at the same time, I don’t want less activity to be a veil to hide a heart that is working out of a fear of man, or for self glory. Let’s not deal with the triggers, but with the heart problems.

For example, a friend of mine has a car that will start shaking unnaturally if driven above 50 mph (or something like that, I forget the exact speed). At speeds under 50 miles an hour, the car doesn’t shake, but that doesn’t mean that its fixed.

Would we say that there is a problem with the speed? Or would we say that there is a problem with the car? I think the answer to this questions reveals my conviction on burnout.

Like the car that shakes at speeds over 50mph, a heart that reveals anxiety in times of heavy activity is hidden in times of less activity, but problem is still there.

We look at those who are are feeling the burdens of work and ministry, and we have the tendency to say that they are doing too much, that they should scale back. I would completely agree, but at the same time, the level of activity isn’t the problem, it simply exposes the problem.

They problem isn’t the speed, the problem is under the hood. Let’s not be content to simply drive under 50mph and call that wisdom. Sure, drive slowly for now, but not to the neglect of taking the engine to the mechanic, to diagnose what is driving the heart.

In John 4, Christ himself said that his food was to do the will of Him who sent him. He said that he derived his sustenance from working. He said this when he was tired. We know he was tired because Scripture tells us he was tired (vs 6). We know he was hungry because the disciples were gone buying food (vs 8). We know he was thirsty because he asked the woman at the well for a drink (vs. 7).

Christ was not burned out, but it wasn’t because he was reserving himself in his ministry and carefully monitoring his workload. Rather at the peak of his tiredness – being hungry and thirsty – he was still furiously pursuing this woman’s heart. He was wearied, but yet his heart burned with the desire to do the will of the Father, because it was doing the Father’s will that sustained him.

The times that I had it hardest over the past few months were the times that I was trying to appear a certain way before men. I wanted to be the guy who could handle everything. I wanted to be the guy who was smart enough, disciplined enough, driven enough, strong enough, and talented enough to do everything and be awesome at it.

I wanted people to look at me and see superman. That is not an easy expectation to live up to. But how I tried.

I was driving over 50mph with a broken engine.

By God’s sovereignty, my body told me that I was being stupid and I couldn’t keep up what I was doing when I got sick a few weeks back. Apparently I’m not superhuman, and I ignored the memo.

But the primary issue is the heart. Would a heart that is seeking to please God really neglect rest because it fears what people think? Not likely. Would a heart that desires to please God take on tasks in the church that he cannot do faithfully because he fears what people think? Probably not.

Its fine to drive over 50mph, and I think we are meant to do that, whatever 50mph might mean. But we all have troublesome engines. Fortunately, we have a great mechanic, and must not neglect regular tuneups. This is what will ensure that we can continue to drive as we are meant to.

Dr. Baker went all John Piper on us today:

Ecstasy and delight are essential to the believer’s soul and they promote sanctification.  We were not meant to live without spiritual exhilaration and the Christian who goes a long time without the experience of heart-warming will soon find himself tempted to have his emotions satisfied from earthly things and not, as he ought, from the Spirit of God.  The soul is so constituted that it craves fulfillment from things outside itself and will embrace earthly joys for satisfaction when it cannot reach spiritual ones.  Not for nothing did Satan draw Eve to see that the forbidden fruit grew on a tree which was ‘pleasant to the eyes’ and on a ‘tree to be desired’. The believer is in spiritual danger if he allows himself to go for any length of time without tasting the love of Christ and savoring the felt comforts of a Saviour’s presence.  When Christ ceases to fill the heart with satisfaction, our souls will go in silent search of other lovers

(Maurice Roberts; The Thought of God; page 57).

In other words, if you don’t find yourself hungry for God, you’re snacking on something else.

If your love for God has gone missing, look at where you find your greatest joys and you may find the thief.

(edit: or your greatest sorrows. Both will show what you love)

Nothing new here. Just the same heart searching truths.

But looking up the Scripture from which that song comes, I found something more than insight into a song. I found a respite for my own soul.

5 For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. 6 He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. 7 On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God. 8 Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.

Psalm 62:5-8

How far have I removed myself from the beautiful simplicity of placing the entirety of my soul’s longings on God alone? Life in a fallen world, in my not yet glorified flesh, full of worries, full of idols that my heart so easily goes after. Full of restlessness.

Sometimes I feel as if people are leaning on me, counting on me to be strong. Eventually, it becomes clear that I’m not that strong. I’m not as steady as I wish I could be. As much as I want to be a rock that the church can lean on, I realize I can’t bear that weight. When you realize you don’t have the strength that others are counting on you to have, what is a man to do?

This Psalm turns the burdened heart back to an unending well of strength. God ONLY is my rock and my salvation. How many other things have I tried to make a rock to lean on in my life? In how many other things have I tried to obtain another version of salvation?

Bringing it closer to home, how many times have I tried to trust my OWN strength as my rock and my salvation? How many times have I simply thrown yet another load on my own back, figuring that my strength was sufficient to absorb that weight?

Eventually, this kind of thing will crush a man. It brings a mixture of frustration, self-righteousness, guilt, anxiety, and despair. In a word, restlessness.

But as I sang the refrain from Psalm 62 — repeatedly until I lost count — all those feelings that had seemed so weighty, so pressing, so imminent…suddenly they didn’t really matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was that I was singing to my God, joining a refrain that one day all His saints will sing in unison.

“O praise Him, Hallelujah! My Delight and my Reward! Everlasting, never failing, My Redeemer, my God”

For a few glorious moments, I forgot about that restlessness. It came when my thoughts were overwhelmed with God and nothing else. Truly our souls were made to find rest in Him alone.

But that said, I’ve been pretty tired as of late. Tired in almost every way. Physically, as I’ve been trying to stay active. Mentally, as I’ve tried to saturate every moment of my day with learning (praise God for podcasts. Yes, there is a sanctified use for a smartphone). Emotionally, as I’ve had to share burdens, and also reach out to people when there is very little response. Spiritually, as I think I’ve wrongly tried to assume more responsibility for people’s growth than is biblical.

Yes, I’m tired, and I know that some of that weariness hasn’t come from the right sources, but in general, I would rather be tired than not. If I’m not tired, then there is the nagging feeling that there may have been something more I could have done for the glory of God. A little more energy resisting sin, a little more effort to encourage someone who tends to be overlooked, a little more time training my body so it won’t get in the way of getting up early and setting up for church.

On that day, I want to be able to look back at my life and say that it was fully spent — that nothing was saved or reserved that could have been spent. I realize that the best way to ensure that I can say this on that day, is to be able to say it on this day.

Of course, running the race for the long haul requires wisdom and not recklessness. But I’m really starting to see that wise living doesn’t mean pursuing self preservation for its own sake (sleep now or you’ll be miserable tomorrow, say no to that ministry because it requires too much committment), but an understanding of myself and how I can glorify God best (sleep now so you can listen to someone more carefully tomorrow, say no to that ministry because you can bless the church more by focusing on this other ministry).

Just as a Christian’s money is a stewardship of God’s resources, to be invested and spent for His purposes, a Christian’s energy is a stewardship as well. How should I invest the energy He has given me? How should I spend it? Generously, no doubt. But where, and in what capacity?

Sometimes it seems as if my energy is spent for naught, which can get discouraging, but God has been more than gracious. He has been timely in showing me the wonder of salvation, in fresh ways. Whether it be a verse I’m reading one day, a song I hear on my commute, a sermon on the love of God, a devotional on the implications of the cross, or even a Bible study in the minor prophets, gospel truth always seemed to find its way into my heart. Not that I was even actively looking for it either. Instead, Gospel truth has been finding me.

Truly, gospel truth is what enables Paul to say:

“For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that he powerfully works within me.” – Colossians 1:19

and John to say:

“For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome.” – 1 John 5:3

Keep striving, friends. Spend your strength for the Lord, but don’t grow weary. There is something good at the end.

….how frequently does the wearied pilgrim put up the prayer, “O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away and be at rest;” but Christ does not pray like that, he leaves us in his Father’s hands, until, like shocks of corn fully ripe, we shall each be gathered into our Master’s garner. Jesus does not plead for our instant removal by death, for to abide in the flesh is needful for others if not profitable for ourselves. He asks that we may be kept from evil, but he never asks for us to be admitted to the inheritance in glory till we are of full age. Christians often want to die when they have any trouble. Ask them why, and they tell you, “Because we would be with the Lord.” We fear it is not so much because they are longing to be with the Lord, as because they desire to get rid of their troubles; else they would feel the same wish to die at other times when not under the pressure of trial.

They want to go home, not so much for the Saviour’s company, as to be at rest. Now it is quite right to desire to depart if we can do it in the same spirit that Paul did, because to be with Christ is far better, but the wish to escape from trouble is a selfish one. Rather let your care and wish be to glorify God by your life here as long as he pleases, even though it be in the midst of toil, and conflict, and suffering, and leave him to say when “it is enough.”

Bullseye, yikes.

So, being interested in what all the hubbub was about, I started the system. Although I haven’t been completely consistent in keeping up with it, I did keep plugging away at it, so that I could say that I gave it a fair chance.

Intitially, after some getting used to, I definitely saw the benefits of reading the Bible in such a way. God has had a plan throughout history, slowly revealed in the pages of the Bible. His character is consistent, and the major themes, covenants, events, and characters begin to fall into their respective places when getting a whole, big picture view of the Scriptures. And that’s just after a measly few months of reading this way…

But I’ve decided to stop reading the Bible in this manner. I’ve noticed lately that my times in the Word have been becoming more and more distracted, and I find I am remembering less and less of what I read. Although ultimately this is not the fault of the reading plan, but rather my own undisciplined mind, the RSS-style format was not helping, either. With the epistles in particular it seemed unnatural to me to read in such a fragmented manner. With the wisdom books, or even historical narratives, I didn’t mind reading a chapter a day, but most of the epistles were written to be read as a single unit, a letter, structured around linear arguments, with one historical context underlying the letter. It just seems more natural to read it on its own.

I’m not one to give up so easily on things like this, but I realized the reasons that I would want to stick it out were more prideful than helpful. I never made any sort of commitment to stick with the plan for more than a few months, and neither is there any Scriptural mandate to read in such a manner.

To be accurate, there is no Scriptural mandate to read the Word daily, either. The call is to meditate on the Word day and night. Certainly, the most straightforward way to have something to meditate on is by reading it, but I’m really beginning to think that sometimes I have put an emphasis on reading over meditation when it should be the other way around. If there is any emphasis in Scripture at all, it is meditating on it, delighting in it, and following it.

It makes sense. We take literacy for granted now, but for much of human history, literacy was an ultra-luxury. An exhortation to read the Scriptures, for a population that 1) may have had a high illiteracy rate, and 2) may not have had access to complete Bibles (still true in places) would be very difficult to follow.

But regardless of how literate a population is, if they have even a portion of Scripture, they can meditate on it. They can discuss it with one another. They can bind it to their minds. They can treasure it in their hearts. They can submit to it.

I’m starting to form the personal conviction that the practice of memorizing the Scriptures is actually more in line with how I ought to intake the Word of God than is daily reading. Naturally, “day and night” meditation as per Joshua 1:8 would probably mean that I would be reading daily as well, but the focus seems to be meditation for the sake of application, not consumption for the sake of information.

Some outside reading that I’ve been doing (Moonwalking with Einstein, a fascinating read, but take with salt) also seems to suggest that the average human memory is entirely capable of memorizing pretty much anything it encounters. We simply have stopped using our minds in a way that remembers things, and so we have forgotten how to remember. (Think of how many phone numbers you used to know by heart)

Regardless of whether or not every person has such incredible memory potential, when I practiced Scripture memory, it was one of the most beneficial disciplines in my life. Not sure why I stopped doing it…probably because it takes such long term effort.

So in place of Grant Horner’s Bible Reading plan, I’ll be renewing the discipline of memorizing Scripture. I would still recommend Professor Horner’s system, but not to the neglect of meditation and good hard study.

Now where did I put my Navigator verse pack?

For the essence of sin is man substituting himself for God, while the essence of salvation is God substituting Himself for man. Man asserts himself against God, and puts himself where only God deserves to be; God sacrifices Himself for man and puts Himself where only man deserves to be.

- John Stott, The Cross of Christ

Unmerited favor.

It’s not that I’ve been too busy. Though things are busy, that isn’t usually enough to stop me from writing. It’s not that inspiration hasn’t struck. It definitely has. It’s not that I haven’t been writing, either. Just not publicly.

Instead, it has been a helpful time of reflection, re-evaluation and perspective shifting.

It’s a bit hard for me to articulate, but essentially, sharing something with someone or writing something on a blog immediately holds me accountable to live in a consistent manner. Just as “hearers” of the Word are accountable to be “doers” of what they have heard, how much more are “speakers” of the Word accountable to do what they speak or write about?

In short, I’ve realized that in many ways, my life is inconsistent with my writing. I think a lot, and I write a lot as well, but how much of what I have written about have I applied to my life, beyond just thinking about it for a week or so? How much more profitable (and difficult!) would it be to live a godly life rather simply write godly words? I’m the last person to deny the power of godly words – fitly spoken, of course – but not in a way that at all detracts from the value of a godly life. I think I’ve allowed the content of my writing to exceed the content of my life by too great of a margin, and I’ve wanted to take some time to reevaluate things. Integrity is crucial, and far too rare.

Of course, there will always be a measure of disintegrity because Christians are called to speak the truth of the Word of God and we will invariably fall short of its standards, but that is no excuse. The solution is not to speak or write in a way that lowers or downplays the standards of Scripture, but with all our strength to pursue a life that is consistent with it. If I’ve been saying “Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God,” (1 Cor 10:31) and I realize that this isn’t true in my life, I shouldn’t start questioning whether “all” means “all” (at least in this case), but rather pursue the glory of God to the utmost.

So what does it mean to be godly, particularly as a Christian in my context? This question led me to fellow Navigator and my old friend (a friend who doesn’t know who I am) Jerry Bridges. I remembered that part of his book, Respectable Sins, had dealt specifically with the foundational sin of ungodliness.

We tend to think of ungodliness in terms of blatant pagan behavior and wicked deeds. We wouldn’t normally think of the person we seek walking down the street or sitting at a coffee shop enjoying a latte as “ungodly.”

But ungodliness, Bridges points out, is not so much defined by someone’s unrighteous deeds, but by his perspective. An ungodly person is one who lives his life as if God was functionally absent. I realized that in certain ways, I am very ungodly.

As responsibilities piled on in my life, I found myself complaining. “Why am I the one to have to take on responsibilities? Why aren’t other people taking care of this?”

I began to see the things that I had to take care of in my life as obstacles that got in the way of my agenda.

But the problem wasn’t so much the responsibilities that I had assumed. The problem was that I forgot where they came from.

If God is a sovereign God, then even these things that I tend to complain about are purposely given to me from Him. Far from being the obstacles that prevent me from glorifying God, these responsibilities are the specific opportunities that He gives me to do so.

Forgetting God’s purposes in my responsibilities opens up the door for complaint, frustration, and discontent. Remembering His purposes turns everything around to thankfulness for the opportunity to be faithful in service.

I was treating responsibility as an opportunity to complain, rather than seeing it as an opportunity to glorify God.

In the parable of the the ten minas (Luke 19:10-27) the servant who was faithful with his mina was given the responsibility for ten cities as his reward. The unfaithful and lazy servant had his responsibilities taken away as a rebuke.

It occurred to me that complaint about responsibilities is a sure sign of immaturity. In the quest to be a mature man of God, there is no room for complaining, and to my shame I was doing a lot of that in my own heart.

But it can all be traced back to the root of ungodliness. If God is not present behind the responsibilities that come up in my life, then perhaps there is reason to complain. But if a sovereign God who is working for the good of sanctifying His saints is behind the circumstances I face, then there is reason to be thankful that He is using me and giving me the chance to be faithful with much.

A simple shift in perspective (simple, not small) has made all the difference. I feel as if I’ve been revived, and rediscovered the joy that had been missing from the ministry of the church. Ministry is a mercy, and we need to see it as such.

Press on, friends. His commandments are not burdensome. That’s Scripture, not my opinion.

The question isn’t only for those who don’t consider themselves religious. The same question applies to those who would consider themselves religious, even Christians within the church. We would profess to worship God, and I certainly hope that we do…but maybe a more appropriate question may be: what else do we worship?

Here’s an excerpt from Mark Driscoll that I found very eye-opening. He was recounting a time when he was in another country, speaking with a Christian who was living in a culture where shrines and idols are nearly ubiquitous:

Driscoll: “Do you think you would ever visit my country?”

Christian: “I did once, and I will never come again.”

Driscoll: “Why not?”

Christian: “Because I cannot stomach the idolatry.”

Driscoll (looking around at shrines and idols everywhere): “…that’s not what I was expecting to hear. Where are the shrines of false worship and idolatry in our culture?”

Christian: “Well, your god is your stomach, and you have restaurants everywhere. Your god is your sports teams and you build multi-million dollar stadiums to house them. Your god is your television, and all of the chairs in your homes are lined up so that your family can gather around the altar and worship that god.”

Then it dawned on me that idolatry is what we often see in someone else’s culture, and in our culture we just think its the bass pro shop, the steakhouse, the place we go to get recreational sporting goods, the movie theater…we just see it as entertainment, we see it as hobby, we see it as sport. We don’t see it as religion, we don’t see it as spirituality, we don’t see it as idolatry.

Driscoll makes a horrifying point here: Idolatry is often invisible to the idolater.

This should wake us up, shouldn’t it?

This calls for a disclaimer: I’m not saying that every sports fan is an idolater, or anyone who watches TV is engaging in false worship, or that everyone who eats at a restaurant is depraved. But I am saying that these things become worship far more easily than we might expect. Just because restaurants and movies and entertainment are staples of our culture doesn’t mean that it is ok for them to occupy a worshipful place in our lives.

We need to guard our hearts (this is what Proverbs 4:23 is really talking about, more thoughts on that verse here) because our culture as a general whole has accepted this idolatry and we are prone to being swept up in it without even knowing, thoughtlessly giving our worship to other things, rather than to the rightful Object in the Creator God.

We need to ask the question: are we more American than we are Christian?

Its costly to be otherwise isn’t it? It means being countercultural in some instances where cultural norms are not compatible with a Christian life. It means being unaccepted in some instances, even hated in others.

It means being like Christ.

Makes sense doesn’t it? Being Christian means being like Christ. Being like Christ means you will experience much of the same cultural opposition as He did when we faced Jewish norms that were incompatible with the true kingdom of God.

It is costly to follow Christ and worship God because it means not worshiping what our culture worships. If we are unwilling to do that, we need to ask ourselves what is more important, what we consider worth more, what deserves our worth-ship.

It’s not my intention to prompt pointless navel-gazing, but neither can I ignore the fact that this heart-guarding requires “all vigilance,” meaning that one cannot be “over-vigilant” in this. For you NASBers, you cannot be “over-diligent.” Though guarding oneself from idolatry can be done in an idolatrous way -strange as that sounds – it cannot be overdone, either.