Finding God’s Rhythm in Ministry
I sat on the edge of my bed this morning, staring at my planner with its mile-long to-do list. Bible study to prepare, blog posts to write, ladies' retreat sessions to plan, Holiday Bible Club to coordinate, missionary reports due... My heart ached with the weight of it all while my body protested with its usual chorus of pain.
"Lord," I whispered, "I don't think I can do this anymore."
Have you felt caught between these two realities? On one side, there's the undeniable truth that souls hang in the balance—real people who will spend eternity somewhere. On the other, there are the physical, emotional, and spiritual limitations of our humanity.
This tension is as old as ministry itself.
When Change Seems Impossible
Have you ever heard the story of the frog in the kettle? Place a frog in boiling water, and it will immediately jump out. But place it in room-temperature water and gradually increase the heat, and the frog will stay put until it's too late. While this analogy may be more folklore than science, it illustrates a profound truth about human nature.
In Jesus' day, the religious system had gradually shifted from God's original intent. Like that proverbial frog, the people didn't notice the slow drift from true worship to ritualistic religion. The Pharisees had added layer upon layer of rules and traditions until the heart of God's law was nearly unrecognizable. As Jesus said, "Making the word of God of none effect through your tradition, which ye have delivered" (Mark 7:13).
I wonder how many of those sincere worshippers realized something was amiss?
Mimicking the Master
On a recent walk through town, Jason, Tess, and I encountered another dog walker along our usual route. In typical terrier fashion, Tess approached the other dog, exchanged the customary sniffs (you know, the canine equivalent of "How do you do?"), and then bounded over to the man. But before he could even reach down to pet her, she'd already turned tail and continued her journey, clearly satisfied that she'd fulfilled her social obligations for the moment.
Jason burst out laughing, nudging me with his elbow. "She gets that from you," he teased, and I couldn't help but chuckle because, well, he wasn't wrong. Like my furry friend, I too prefer to keep my social interactions brief and purposeful. Give me my quiet office with its book-lined walls or my peaceful garden over a crowded social gathering any day!
Beyond the Noise
Have you ever played the "telephone game" where everyone sits in a circle and whispers a message from person to person? By the time it reaches the last person, the message has usually transformed into something hilariously different from the original.
I was thinking about this recently while reading about Elijah in 1 Kings 19. Poor Elijah was having what we might call a spiritual breakdown. After his magnificent victory over the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel, Queen Jezebel threatened his life, and suddenly our brave prophet was running for the hills—literally.
He ended up at Mount Horeb (also known as Sinai), exhausted, depressed, and feeling completely alone. "I, even I only, am left," he lamented to God, "and they seek my life, to take it away" (1 Kings 19:10).
Thou Art the Man!
I once watched a little boy on the playground point accusingly at another child who had pushed someone down. "That's not nice!" he shouted, his face twisted with righteous indignation. Not five minutes later, I observed this same boy shove another child who wouldn't share the slide. The irony wasn't lost on me. How often are we like that little boy—quick to condemn in others what we tolerate in ourselves?
This reminds me of one of the most powerful confrontations in Scripture: when Nathan the prophet faced King David after his sin with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah.
David had everything—the kingdom, wealth, multiple wives and concubines. Yet he coveted another man's wife, took her, and then orchestrated her husband's death on the battlefield to cover his tracks. For nearly a year, David lived with this sin festering in his soul, apparently unbothered by his own wickedness.