Rest, in peace

Who am I in Christ? Where are the answers?

 

The question was an easy one, or should have been. Where does your passion lie? Why do you do what you do? Why do you preach? Teach? Lead?

At a retreat on Monday, we asked ourselves (through prompting) these questions.

The answers lie somewhere in the category of, uh, I’m not sure, to where are the questions?

I struggled with what seemed to be the easiest of questions, the one about why do I preach. There was a time when I could immediately tell anyone. I preached because someone once preached to me. I preached because I hoped that someone would catch the same little bit of comfort that led to the great ocean of grace that God gave me. I preached because somehow from the first moment in the pulpit, Jesus spoke through me, changed me, made me different for 20 minutes on a Sunday. I preached because....

Now, I wonder. I still am changed, but the rush I once felt is not the same rush I feel now. And I see very few coming to Christ. I was so naive as to think that once the Gospel was really explained, with my little life as the fulcrum, well, they would rush the altar.

They never rushed.

They never do.

Though I've read much of the leadership material, I feel so little like a leader. I've been in leadership positions all my life, all the way back to high school. It's what I've been. But now I find that it was the wrong kind of leadership. Now I find that leadership is getting people to go where they don't necessarily want to go. And I wonder. I wander. I think that might just be someone else. That might truly be someone else.

I manage things. I've always managed things. Give me a job, and I will do the job. On time, I might add. But what if the job is what needs to be changed. What if people really don't want to do what I think is the job? What is people think they've been doing it well, and they want to take a break?

Then a friend of mine preached, and the words reminded me why I came there. Although we might learn much about leadership, I feel somehow the answer I came closer to having was the one given during the sermon.

We were told to rest in peace, in the literal sense. To give up on the notion that we ever find peace in this lifetime with Christ. Know that connecting to the vine is the best I can do. Know that my own leadership iskills are insufficient, and in all likelihood will always be insufficient.

But knowing Jesus is the best thing I can aspire to, and it is the best thing I can have.

Where are the answers? In the throne room of God, not the silent and empty offices of the churches I "lead."

Who am I in Christ? I am a son of God, one of his masterpieces, created to serve him.

Lately it’s like I’ve forgotten why I do this. The true answer is I preach, I teach, I pastor, I serve, I do all that I do because someone did it for me. No more, no less. I preach well, someone has said, and as near as I can tell, that's true. But the rest? As Paul said, I'm the worst of sinners.

Someone, when I was at my lowest stage, preached a message of grace. Someone Monday night called it the attitude of grace. I think that’s about right. That’s what we have left after we’ve culled the depths of God’s love.

Perhaps the most meaningful statement I heard came from a Rabbic source, a quote that I paraphrase. It was said that a Rabbi said that when he reaches heaven, God would not ask, "Why weren't you Moses?" Instead, he would ask why the Rabbi hadn't been himself.

I cling to that. I must be the best Billy God has created me to be. No more. No less. I fear I haven't been.

So I seek to rest in an unimaginable but completely understandable peace. That’s why I came. That’s why God has called me again, and again, and again.

I’m just a poor wanderer. But what a journey it has been.