Burnout Prevention

For me, the manifestation of workaholism isn't finding excuses to skip days off; it's finding excuses to skip breaks during work days. Often the days immediately before days off are the worst. The sooner I finish everything on today's To Do list, the sooner I can start the weekend. The less I have to roll over to Monday, the less I'll have on my mind to interfere with my enjoying Saturday and Sunday.

Except that my mind may have long passed the point of being able to turn off constant preoccupation with "what I have to do next."

It's some comfort to know I have plenty of company. Well-established custom says, "Finish all your work [perhaps a whole life's worth] first, and then you can rest." Many a person who lives by that principle eventually winds up taking a longer rest than he'd planned on--after his physical functions go on strike to protest the constant wear and tear.

We often forget that God gave the Sabbath commandment--not to mention the human body's built-in fatigue indicators--for our benefit, that He meant days off to be genuine times of rest (not just a switch from office work to household chores), that He does want us to "stop work in the middle of something" if that's what our bodies and spirits need. One difference between the Jewish Torah's concept of God and that of contemporary Mesopotamian mythology was that the latter's gods were serious taskmasters; they kept people on earth primarily because humans' daily work furnished religious sacrifices that saved the gods the trouble of preparing their own food. Sad to say, many modern Christians live as if our own God were like that: caring only about what we can do for Him and prone to get irritable if we take time off without a very good excuse.

And while we strive to please Him through our work, He pleads, ignored, for us to stop and get to know Him.

If you feel you're drowning in work, work, work,
Yet seem never to get much done,
You may be hard at work on the wrong "good things"--
Or at too much work on the right one!
God instructed us, yes, to do His work,
But He also gave His command
That we take some regular time for rest,
Just to rest in the palm of His hand.

So take time to work, and take time to pray,
And take time just for fun as well,
And see to your health, and see to your sleep,
And the family with which you dwell,
And your friends in the church, and those outside:
But remember these things above
All the rest--give heed to the Word of God,
And receive and display His love!

It may be, when your earthly days are done,
And you enter the golden gate,
That your Lord's "Well done" for the life you lived
Will depend upon nothing "great,"
Nor on how many hours you prayed or served
As compared to time on "the rest"--
For whenever your heart is fixed on Him,
What you do at that hour is best!

God's Soldiers

I personally don't like to hear talk about how immoral and anti-Christian the world is becoming. I don't deny that many of the criticisms are valid or that a personal unwillingness of mine to face up to uncomfortable truths may be involved. But what stirs at least as much discomfort on my part is that the typical Christian social reformer rarely mentions loving one's enemies, let alone turning the other cheek or watching for one's own blind spots. Some attack the opposition with a viciousness that makes counteraccusations of hate speech all too understandable. One wonders if the campaign to bring the Bible back into public schools would allow for a history class pointing out that serious Christians once used the Scriptures to argue for slavery and segregation.

People still quote the Bible out of context to justify themselves--and more than one person has noted that of the seven deadly sins, anger is the one we try to justify most often. Now, anger isn't sinful if it involves indignation against true evil; it is a sin when based on a belief that we're too important to be subject to inconvenience. An appointment is fifteen minutes late? How dare he mess up your schedule! Someone contradicts you with a sneer? How dare she put you down! Can't find the job you want? It becomes all too easy to listen to malcontents who claim the economy would be perfect without those foreigners in the market--or that employers are just prejudiced against Christians.

While nothing in the Bible forbids taking a blatant injustice to court (but note Paul's admonition in 1 Cor. 6:1-8 that Christian-to-Christian disputes are best settled within the church) or fighting off a direct attack, a careful reading of the Scriptures would indicate that in the interest of love and compassion for one's fellow humans, counterattack should be a last resort.

For too many Christians, it's the first.

We live in a world of violence,
Where the answer to every blow
Is to strike back, and even harder:
"That's the only language they know."

We see nations fighting each other;
They all claim to stand for what's right:
Though they kill and drop bombs at random,
It's all justified in their sight.

People lash out against mistreatment--
Which may be in their minds alone--
And claim crushing the last oppressor
Is where seeds of true peace are sown.

And hate is not only directed
To the stranger or foreign foe:
It can grow in our hearts toward a brother
Or toward anyone we may know.

But it brings neither peace nor justice
Just to "punish the ones who sin,"
For we all have hearts tainted with evil--
The dividing line runs within.

And if we strike back, when wounded,
Only at the offenders we see,
We forgot it is non-human forces
Who are truly the enemy.

Let us not shun our Lord's own teaching
That submission is our true strength,
And that true peace begins within us,
Where true change can take place at length.

We as Christians are Heaven's soldiers,
And our swords are forged strong through prayer,
For true victory over evil
Has its only beginning there.

Let us put aside selfish anger
And the urge to despise and hate,
So we all can grow strong as warriors
In a cause that is pure and great,

Living lives based in humble mercy
And in eagerness to forgive,
Standing firm against Satan's army
As we live as our Lord would live.

Then our love may win others over
Without force that is fueled by rage,
And the way of our Christ spread outward
Till the day God turns earth's last page!

A Place for Everyone

Do What You Love, The Money Will Follow. I read that book so long ago I can’t remember one specific thing it said, but the title sums up a concept that has gained much favor: People wouldn’t be made with specific inclinations if they weren’t meant to earn their daily bread through those inclinations. Attractive as the idea is, and sensible as it seems in light of the Christian concept that God fits each of us for specific purposes, I’m somewhat cynical. To insist “your ministry and your daily labor should always be one and the same” is to disavow the example of St. Paul, who considered himself first and foremost a preacher of the Gospel and yet specifically chose not to make his financial living that way. (See 2 Thess. 3:7–10.) And with the exceptions of natural entrepreneurs and those blessed with skills in heavy demand, those of us who do (only) what we love rarely see money following all that closely. At least not in sufficient amounts to immediately and permanently absolve us from working at anything else.

Personally, not only do I have trouble selling my writing skills for more than a few hundred dollars, it often seems I can’t even give them away. My church has never found more than occasional use for my articles and poetry; the same goes for other volunteer-minded nonprofits I know. Even this blog and my other online writing have drawn limited attention.

There are people with far greater cause to moan “There’s no place for me in this world.” The ex-convict whose search for honest work is stymied by public distrust; the quadriplegic who literally can’t lift a finger unassisted; the inner-city resident who daily hears “the world won’t ever let us rise above poverty”; the person whose autism-afflicted brain can only comprehend the larger world through extensive mental calculations—these are the ones who rarely think about what they’d most enjoy working at. Any work would be welcome if they could be accepted as honest and competent—which often seems a hopeless dream.

We can be grateful that God doesn’t limit citizenship in His Kingdom to those who are “useful” in terms of physical strength, charisma, brains, or even spectacular testimony. Indeed, “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him” (1 Cor. 1:27–29). That’s not to say He has no use for the more obviously “capable,” just that when someone in any category of capability is fully surrendered to His will, He can achieve far more of eternal value through that person than through anyone depending on his or her own abilities. This also may explain why, instead of handing us detailed assignments, He so often seems to let us navigate by trial and error. While we think in terms of “getting things done,” God thinks in terms of getting us done—the work we complete for His Kingdom is far less precious to Him than the work He will complete in us. And only He knows the exact combinations of time, struggle, and success that will ultimately make each of us all we can be.

What’s important for each of us to know is that, whatever this world thinks of us, we fully “belong” in God’s society.

Every piece in a puzzle will have its spot,
Every part in machinery will have its slot,
Every creature in nature will have its place,
Every tint in the spectrum will have its space.
And each soul that belongs to the House of Christ,
Those He freed from their sin at an awesome price,
Has a place in His Body and Holy Nation,
The true home of each soul who has found salvation.
All empowered from above,
Joined together by love,
Every one will belong,
All in service made strong,
Through eternity part of His new Creation.

And God’s work will be done through His strength in all,
Every soul who has come to His holy call.
Let not one cast an eye of contempt or scorn
On another in Christ who has been reborn,
Nor sit idle and say “But my gifts are few.”
God has work for us all—yes, for even you.
Give no thought to your past or your earthly station,
But look up to the Lord of our great salvation.
We are drawn from each race,
From each climate and place,
And God uses each one,
Closes all He begun,
Till earth’s work all is done at the Consummation.

God Knows Best

More time than usual has passed between posts, because an electrical storm last Monday “fried” my cable connection and has left my online work dependent on the wireless services of public venues. Annoying, to say the least. I rarely work offsite; I can live very well without the bother of unplugging and reattaching a half dozen cords, the strain of packing around a ten-pound laptop on a stiff back, the hum of public activity intruding on my concentration, and the inherent hassles of either the coffee shop (with its sense of obligation to spend money I don’t have on caffeine I don’t need) or the library (with its increasingly limited hours).

“Limited hours” may be the greatest bugaboo. However much lip service we give to the Scriptural commands to “wait on the Lord” and “be still,” the conviction that it’s productivity that counts remains fixed in our minds. There’s a Christian song with a chorus something like, “It’s not in trying, but in trusting,/It’s not in running, but in resting,/It’s not in planning, but in praying,/That we find the strength of the Lord.” Biblically sound, but who really lives as if we believe it? If you’re anything like me, even prayer easily becomes a performance issue: how many hours a day, with what ratio of praise to requests, should one pray to achieve a Spirit-filled life?

Wayne Jacobsen, author of He Loves Me!: Learning to Live in the Father’s Affection and coeditor of bestselling Christian novel The Shack, tells of a time he was invited to serve a brief interim pastorate: “We’ve heard that you really emphasize God’s grace and the cross,” the church elders told him.

“That’s true,” he replied, “but before you decide that’s what you want, I’d like you to answer two questions. First, how much of what gets done at your church, gets done because someone would feel guilty about not doing it?”

The elders exchanged glances, chuckled, and replied, “About ninety percent!”

“So, are you prepared to accept that if your congregation fully understands God’s grace, ninety percent of what’s currently getting done at your church may stop?”

Dead silence.

Most Christians harbor the same fear as those elders: that if we give too much attention to God Himself, if we allow ourselves to trust that He will not be angry if we stop striving to do all we can, we will end up getting nothing done. Serving out of love rather than duty, let alone believing that the former is ultimately the route of greater accomplishment, has always been a stumbling block for human nature. It didn’t take long for the “striving trap” to infect even the Church; St. Paul wrote Galatians, perhaps chronologically the first book of the New Testament, largely to battle that enemy. It didn’t come close to winning the war.

Perhaps the real reason we get angry with God for not preventing our problems is that problems interrupt our work and interfere with our striving. My online difficulties started just when I thought I might finally have an effective priority-based work schedule, and I’ve had enough similar experiences to convince me it’s more than coincidence—that some angel or demon has an ongoing assignment to strike at my weakest point, my aversion to interruptions and disappointment, whenever I seem on the edge of a significant reduction in those annoyances.

To some degree, everyone’s most hated troubles have to do with the failure of human striving, whether to get to an appointment on time or to “positive-think” oneself into a life where everything always goes “right.” All our bitterness at our failures, all our frustration over glitches and roadblocks, has its roots in the idea that God is either punishing us for something He won’t show us how to remedy, or doesn’t care about our happiness at all.

The apex of spiritual maturity is neither always doing the right thing, nor the absence of grief or anger in any circumstance, nor understanding the “whys” of it all. It’s trusting that God understands the “whys”—and that He will make full use of all circumstances to finish the good work He began in us.

This life will bring its troubles
And unexpected pain;
Some days are bright with sunshine,
But some are full of rain;
Whatever roads we travel,
As we face every test,
Let us remember always:
In all things, God knows best.

God gives the perfect balance
Of happiness and tears;
He marks our mortal limits
And sets each lifetime’s years;
Though we seek wealth and wellness—
It seems the obvious guess
That these are good things for us—
Remember: God knows best.

One may grow strong through hardship
Or through prosperity;
And I can judge no other
By God’s best plan for me.
But when, in realms eternal,
Our souls at last find rest,
We all shall sing in chorus,
“Praise God: He knew the best!”

Our Once and Future Joy

"I can't say this for sure," notes author/journalist Laura Fraser in "My So-Called Genius" (MORE Magazine, May 2008), "but I'd bet it was a formerly precocious person who coined the term midlife crisis." Fraser's article reflects on the emotional side of her transition from a top academic achiever to an accomplished-but-not-world-famous fortysomething--and on the disappointment that awaits many child prodigies when they learn high potential doesn't equal effortless and spectacular success. Or even high self-esteem.

Of course, you don't have to be a former high school valedictorian to experience a midlife crisis. Many of us spend the first half of our lives figuring we have "plenty of time" to accomplish our dreams--and the second half figuring we've already blown the chance. That's the kind of thinking that leads to an obsession with the "good old days." It can also lead to embarrassing moments if we haven't yet outlived those who remember us as kids; have you ever complained to your mother that life was so much better when you were twenty-one and been told, "The letters you wrote home from college during those days didn't give the impression you found things all that great"? As often as not, the "worst time of our lives" is the one we're living through at this moment.

Regardless, God didn't put us on earth to waste the present living in the past or the future. More than that, He is the only One with a truly accurate picture of all three--and the only One Who brings meaning to any of them. The Scriptures don't call Him the One "who was, and is, and is to come" (Rev. 4:8) for nothing.

In Him is the wisdom to learn from the past. In Him is the strength to thrive in the present. And in Him is all hope for the future--not simply in time but through the timelessness of eternity.

Look to the future—remember the past—
Look into both for the things that will last.
Sweet are the memories of good times now done;
Sweet is the vision of things yet to come.

Look to the past for the lessons that guide;
Look to the future, where they’ll be applied.
Praise for the wisdom a lifetime has brought;
Praise for the insights of days yet unsought.

Open the Scriptures and look to the Word,
Wisdom far sweeter than ever was heard.
Praise all the things God has done for His own,
Praise for His planning of things yet unknown.

He Who was shaping the earth as it grew—
He is the One Who will make all things new.
He Who came once to free mortals from sin—
He is the One Who is coming again.

He Who stood by us through all that has been—
He is the One Who will reign without end.
Seek out His blessing for all that will last:
Look to the future, remember the past.

Master of Camouflage

"Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes.... Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (Eph. 6:11; 1 Pet. 5:8).

Anyone who lives with a cat knows that members of the feline tribe don't approach their prey openly. Rather, they sneak up soundlessly, every move patiently calculated, eyes fixed firm on the target, until they judge themselves close enough to deliver the killing blow in one quick leap. Often, they maintain a literal low profile, particularly useful if you're a lion and your preferred habitat is grassland where much of the cover is shorter than you are.

The "roaring lion" who is the devil uses similar tactics. He doesn't show his real self openly, and he saves most of his roaring for boasting about his kills. When scheming to deliver a crippling blow to someone's spiritual health, he's more likely to purr, speaking soothingly about how this really isn't sinful and would be so wonderful. He watches his targets carefully, keeping an eye on how they react to certain situations and what they aren't paying attention to. Carefully he maneuvers his victim into position, covering his true nature with whatever innocuous-looking aspect of the environment he can hide behind--then when danger is least suspected, he makes the fatal suggestion that leads his prey to fall hard and leaves everyone stunned, wondering what happened.

Also like the natural predator, which selects its victims based on the perceived ease of overpowering them, the devil has an eye for those souls most vulnerable to temptation. Ironically, these are often the ones who seem strongest to human eyes: the wealthy executive, the high-profile superstar, even the Christian worker who seems to be accomplishing great things for God. The devil knows that the more "successful" we become in human terms, the easier we find it to start relying on our own abilities rather than God's supernatural power--and human nature being what it is, there's no guarantee of an exception when those abilities are used for strictly "Christian" work. The megachurch pastor who commits adultery with an attractive young counselee may well have started with the purest of intentions, but brushed off warnings about the temptations of being alone with her because he was sure he was above such carnal thoughts. He put his spiritual armor in the closet months before because he didn't think he needed it any longer, and he learned the hard way that his flesh was still vulnerable.

We're all equally helpless against the devil when we have only our own strength to rely on. Just as a gazelle must eat daily if it's to keep up its strength to escape lions, we have to replenish our spiritual defenses daily through prayer and Scripture.

"But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Cor. 15:57).

The devil is a master when
It comes to craft and art,
For he can paint the blackest sin
To lure the purest heart.

The devil is a master of
Deceit and subtle change,
And he can take the truest love
And twist it for his gain.

The devil is a master who
Perverts each thing that's good:
Beware, or he may work on you
Like craftsmen carving wood.

The only way to dodge the plans
This master thief can weave:
Find strength in Christ, the Son of Man,
Who saves all who believe.

Humility

Here's another item from the "Christian books I've recently read" department: Jean Fleming's Between Walden and the Whirlwind is for the busy Christian who's fed up with not being able to get her life in order. Not because the book solves your organization problems once and for all (how many books, Christian and secular alike, have made that claim?), but because it helps you come to peace with disorganization. More specifically, it emphasizes accepting that the ultimate order of life is in God's hands alone, and that our best planning skills--or intentions--can't earn us the right to grab the controls.

"Jesus has not asked me to have it all together," writes the author. "Here on earth no one arrives. All Christians are en route.... Even after we get God's direction for our life... we sometimes end up living out God's will to the wrong audience [ashamed to admit, even to fellow Christians, that God has called us only to "humble" tasks].... In our ardor to serve, we often overlook a critical truth: The servant doesn't choose his task. Our concept of serving God may be doing what we would like to do--for God. We tell God what we'll do for Him, and what we won't do; where we'll go for Him, and where we won't go. We even tell Him what mustn't interfere with our plans to serve Him" (1985 hardback edition, pp. 17, 31, 88).

Can you say "Ouch!"?

However obviously a task seems to be "God's work," God will not be pleased if it is done in a prideful spirit. This doesn't apply only to the "showy piety" Jesus condemns in Mt. 6; it includes deliberate or thoughtless disregard for seeking God's will in our decisions. How many times do we rationalize something just has to be God's will for us because we want it so much? ("I've realized my first marriage was really against God's will, so the only Christian thing to do is end it and be united with the person God wanted me to marry in the first place.") Some of us even presume to tell others what God's will is for them: "I don't care if you prayed about it with fasting for three weeks, dear; I'm your mother, and I know God couldn't possibly want you to take a dangerous job like that." "You have to marry me; God told me we're meant to be together, even if He didn't tell you." But true servanthood is being willing to accept God's will as He reveals it, not to try to change it to fit our wishes or our logic.

Where would we be now if Jesus had convinced Himself the Cross was not God's will?

Lord, I would like so much
To do great things for You:
But may "greatness" not overwhelm my power
To stay humble through and through.

Lord, I have glorious plans;
My heart is full of dreams;
But may they come true only if their glow
Never blinds to Your Truth's gleams.

Lord, minds so quickly stray
When they have pride to chase;
If I turn away, please do trip me up,
Lest I fail in faith's great race.

Lord, I still long to stand
With those who can achieve:
But please never let me achieve those things
That would weaken my belief.

Lord, all my days are Yours:
May what I gain and do
Never be so great as to tempt to pride,
Or distract my eyes from You.