I press on...

Philippians 3:12-14

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

It is amazing how tiring it can be to follow Jesus. He tells us that His yoke is easy and His burden is light… but it seems to be the pace that is killing us. What with all of the healthy (and unhealthy) expectations we place on ourselves… our churches… our leaders. The mixing of our lives with passionate following and passionate leading, focused living and space for others, pouring our hearts out to God and pouring our lives out for people (or is that the other way around) can leave us so… well, tired. And this tiredness is made all the more complicated by the psychology of yester-year that says avoid that which is hard… flee from that which hurts… following Jesus should be painless… blah, blah, bla. How are we to know the balance?

The other day Britany and I had our kids at a park just outside of the Minster in York. It was glorious. A peaceful quiet clear day that was only broken by the occasional gusts of autumn wind that sent orange and yellow leaves spiraling through the brisk air. My kids knew intuitively what MUST be done and they began running through the park chasing floating leaves that fell like snow upon the green lawn. As the wind gusted it was almost like a frenzy of leaves, arms and hands… even our youngest Hallie joined in! Celtin was breathing so hard (I thought his heart was going to explode)… never quite able to get to the leaves in time, he would suddenly forget about the leaf he had be pursuing and move with explosive redirection towards his next object of passion… straining forward toward his next prize.

So often, that is what this life feels like to me… but with one notable exception. The smile on Celtin’s face could have outshone a thousand suns.

I wonder sometimes if balance isn’t the point. Not that balance is bad (in fact, I am in a season of relearning what it means to live with balance); I just wonder if it is not the real issue. I wonder if it isn’t the smile that makes all the difference or, more accurately, the source of the smile… “because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” What if the real issue is connected more to the heart that beats within? “because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” What if the power to forget, to strain, to press on toward the goal, comes not from frantic service but from joy? “because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” What if the difference between tiredness and weariness is the heart you are left with at the end of the day? “because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” I wonder…