The weekly task of writing a sermon is the best and worst part of a pastor’s job. I once heard a pastor say it’s like having a baby on Sunday and discovering on Monday that you’re pregnant again. One of the biggest challenges I faced as a bivocational pastor was finding enough time to write my sermons. In order to kill two birds with one stone, I decided to preach through some of the topics of this book.
My first sermon in the series was roughly based on chapter 3, “It’s Okay to Be Normal.” I could tell that most of the church was enjoying the message, but Nate sat in his third-row seat furrowing his eyebrows. After church he and I had a little conversation. “If my wife and I would have followed your advice about being normal,” he said, “we would never have adopted Odessa.” I had to agree, adopting a child from India who might have special needs isn’t exactly what most people would call normal.
Is that what I wanted? To discourage Christians from doing great, radical things? If I had preached my sermon a year earlier, would Odessa still be stuck in an orphanage? Can radically normal Christians be radically obedient without being obsessive? What if Mother Teresa had been satisfied with the status quo? Or what if the apostle Paul had been content just making tents?
I knew that wasn’t what I meant—I wanted to see a church filled with believers pursuing greatness, not mediocrity. What was the difference between Nate’s radical sacrifice and obsessive Christianity?
The Body of Christ
I’ll tell you in a minute how I responded to Nate’s objection. First, think about the expression “the body of Christ.” We use it so frequently that we forget it isn’t so much a title of the church as an illustration.
Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many (1 Corinthians 12:12-14).
The church is like your body, made up of many different parts, each with a special job. You may not think about how important fingernails are until you cut one way too short and discover how much your fingertips need to be protected. Each part of the body of Christ has a vital role to play, yet most parts either overvalue or undervalue their role.
The beauty of Paul’s analogy is that it so effectively illustrates how much each part needs the others. A couple years ago, I needed to build a fence around our backyard, but I’m an abysmal handyman. Assembling IKEA furniture pushes the limits of my building skills. Fortunately, I have a lot of friends who are good at building. They helped me build the fence—mostly by keeping me out of the way with simple jobs while they built the fence. After watching me try to use a hammer for several minutes, one guy stepped in and asked, “You don’t do this very often, do you?” I suppose I could have been insulted, but instead I just laughed. I love the way God made me, with all my strengths and weaknesses, yet I’m keenly aware of how much I need the rest of the body.
If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body (1 Corinthians 12:17-20).
Have you ever compared yourself to some other part of the body and come up short? Maybe you think, “I could never care for the poor like Mother Teresa.” Or “My pastor is much better at comforting hurting people than I am.” Of course you can’t do what they do—you’re not them. We have a habit of comparing ourselves at our weakest point to other people at their strongest. But don’t forget that they have their weaknesses too.
My wife makes a far better mother than I ever will. I lack many of the necessary qualifications for that job, but that hardly makes me a failure. I make a better father than she does. Joy isn’t found by being good at someone else’s job, but by playing your part and allowing others to play theirs.
I think it’s pretty clear no one gets to be the entire body, yet it’s easy to create a composite picture in our heads of ideal Christians. They pray and read the Bible an hour a day and witness door-to-door. They are warm and outgoing and immensely gifted in ministry, yet they never struggle with pride. They’re secure in God’s love, yet they easily empathize with the hurting. They always know when to comfort and when to confront in love.
This is a myth. No such people exist, nor could they unless they lived off of a large inheritance and had multiple personalities. Our composites are made of contradictory skills and personalities. The man who excels at mercy usually struggles with confronting. The woman who has never doubted God’s love doesn’t naturally understand her friends who struggle day by day with acceptance. Our weaknesses aren’t flaws in our design—they’re features of it. The body needs each part in order to get the job done. God designed us to need not only his grace but also each other.
Different Calls
Your individual strengths and weaknesses give you a unique place in the body of Christ. So do the specific roles and callings that you get excited about. Think of some of the many things God has called the church to do.
speaking truth with boldness
helping people
teaching about God and the Bible
encouraging the downtrodden
providing for those in need
leading others
sharing grace and mercy
This list is based on Romans 12:6-8. As you read through it, I’ll bet that some items excite you more than others. As I’ve said, no one person can do everything that needs to be done. God has made some of us passionate about certain things and some of us excited about others. Whenever we focus exclusively on one calling (as Keith Green seemed to do with missions) and try to tell all Christians they must pursue that one calling, we’re implying the church doesn’t need any eyes, just a whole bunch of mouths.
Here’s an example of how I’ve learned to appreciate someone else’s calling. Some pastors are Democrats, and some are Republicans. I’m just this side of apathetic. The biggest problem in my country isn’t which political party is in power but how much sin is in people’s hearts. Jesus is the only effective way to fix that problem, so I’d rather put my effort into changing hearts with the gospel.1 It’s fair to say that politics isn’t my calling.
At one time, I used to think my calling as a pastor was higher than a calling to politics. Then I watched the movie Amazing Grace and had to acknowledge that God called William Wilberforce to help end slavery in the British Empire. Frankly, I don’t want every Christian to adopt my attitude toward politics. Woe to us if Christians were to abandon the political arena. God has impassioned many Christians to make a lasting impact through politics, and I gladly encourage them.
After Nate challenged me that Sunday morning about adopting Odessa, I spent most of the afternoon brooding and trying to understand the difference between radical obedience and obsessive obedience. Then it hit me, and I quickly called his cell phone. No answer. I couldn’t wait, so I left this message.
“Nate, if I were to adopt a child from India because I thought that’s what good Christians do, that would be obsessive. But you didn’t adopt Odessa because someone said you should. Adopting her was what you really wanted to do. God had been preparing you to do this for years. It was a great sacrifice, a radical sacrifice, but it was also your joy.”
Similarly, I’m not in vocational ministry because that’s what obedient Christians do, but because I’m doing what I love. Preaching is not a higher or better calling than building a house, teaching preschool, or collecting trash. But it’s my calling.
I don’t want you to go be a missionary or pastor unless you’re sure God has called you to—not because it’s too ambitious or too great for you, but because it’s below you. The highest calling you can find is the one God gave you. He made you, he knows how you tick, he knows your life stories and experiences, and he says, “Here’s what you can do better than anyone else.” Any other calling may sound noble, but it will be a distraction. Obsessive Christianity has distracted far too many believers from their real calling. If you’ve been told that you should be a missionary, it might be hard to see that your true calling is to be a really good barista with a listening ear.
The difference between being obsessive and being radically normal has nothing to do with the magnitude of your sacrifice or how strange it sounds to others. If your sacrifice is based on guilt, obligation, or legalism, you’re being obsessive. However, if you do something because it’s your joy to obey God in that way, you’re being radically normal. I have some missionary friends who love what they’re doing and really hope God doesn’t call them back home. Yet they’ve known missionaries who are miserable and driven by obligation, not joy. Who do you think is more effective at sharing the love of God?
But what if you refuse to pursue your calling because it sounds too hard? What if all you want to do is play video games or be rich and go on lots of vacations? This is what I mean by nearsighted, complacent Christianity.
Low Ambitions
Our Starbucks had one customer who spent more hours at the store than I did. Moe was the stereotypical nerd. He dressed in outdated clothes that hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and he wore thick glasses that had been out of style since…well, I doubt they had ever been in style. Each morning, Moe arrived at ten a.m. and stayed until around eight p.m. For almost ten hours, Moe would hide in the back corner and play video games. Other than asking for water or going to the bathroom, he’d just sit there, contentedly building and defending virtual kingdoms. Occasionally I’d envy his lack of responsibility (usually when I was banging my head against the wall trying to come up with a sermon), but most of the time I pitied him. His seemed to be an empty, depressing life.
We had other customers who worked hard, dressed nice, and tipped well. From the outside, they were on the opposite end of the spectrum from Moe. But as I watched them and overheard their conversations, I saw that their ambitions were just as low as Moe’s. They were content to spend their time and energy building their own little kingdoms—being the big shots at work, having the hottest bodies at the gym, or making lots of money to spend on themselves. Their ambitions were as self-focused and shortsighted as playing video games all day.
That is not what God wants for you or me. He wants you to be great. He wants you to shine in this world “like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life.”2 He wants your life to count for something that outshines those stars. We are destined to advance the kingdom of God and change the world, to bring healing and hope to the earth and its inhabitants. Most of us aren’t overly ambitious—we’re not ambitious enough. We are, in the words of C.S. Lewis, too easily pleased.
How to Be Great
I recently read an inspiring book about editing your life and making it into something great. It was filled with inspirational stories of men and women who had charted their lives to some great purpose. I loved the way the author pushed me to intentionally craft each scene of my life. However, one thing about the book bothered me. Most of the stories were about people who already had something going for them at the outset, such as owning a multimillion-dollar business or being famous.
What about the rest of us? As I write this, I’m an unknown pastor whose greatest accomplishment has been shrinking his church from small to really small. I don’t have the leadership ability to create a world-class nonprofit. Maybe you don’t have the money to start a massive foundation the way Bill Gates has. Neither of us have been invited to serve as the chaplain for our favorite NFL team. Have you ever seen the poster that says “Potential” in big letters and has a picture of French fries? Under the picture is the caption, “Not everyone gets to be an astronaut when they grow up.” Is that our fate? Do we simply lack the potential for greatness?
My answer is a resounding no. I believe God destined all of his children to greatness. He doesn’t have favorites. He didn’t give the keys of the kingdom to a select few while the rest of us get safety scissors and crayons. Here’s how I see it. If God’s goal were efficiency, he probably wouldn’t work through any of us. The least of his angels could probably do a better job than all of us combined.
I think of all the times I’ve had Grace and Sarah help me wash the car. Believe me, the point is not free labor. The job takes longer with their help, especially when Sarah gets hold of the hose. But that’s okay because efficiency isn’t my goal. I want to spend time with them while teaching them how to work. Likewise, I’m pretty sure that God’s goal for working through us is to draw us closer to himself and to train us for eternity. The Bible hints that even now we’re learning skills we’ll need in heaven, where we will judge the angels.3 Therefore, is greatness found by washing a bigger section of the car? Or does it have more to do with completing the tasks he has given us regardless of how insignificant they may seem?
Our propensity for idolizing celebrities shows that deep down we believe Christianity is about what humans can do, not what God does. Every one of us, from the apostle Paul to Billy Graham to you and me, desperately needs God’s grace to accomplish anything. It is and has always been about him.
Our problem with greatness isn’t that we aren’t capable of it, but that we have a distorted view of it. The church unwittingly perpetuates this distortion by focusing more on celebrities than on everyday folks. Greatness isn’t measured by the amount of money we give, the number of people we serve, or the books we write. Your greatness is measured by how completely you fulfill God’s mission for you.
When you stand before your heavenly Father, he won’t measure your greatness the same way we measure it on earth. He will measure by the way you responded to your calling. I’ve talked to people who’ve met famous actors, and they often say, “I thought he was taller,” or “I thought she was prettier.” I’m convinced that in heaven we’ll be underwhelmed by the greatness of many of the celebrities of faith, not because they failed in some way, but because we had an inflated view of them. We will likely be surprised to find that many of the greats are men and women we have never heard of.
Finding Your Calling
So how do you find your calling, your path to greatness? What can you do better than Mother Teresa or Billy Graham? I was talking to my friend Heather about this because her calling (and career) is helping people find the perfect job to match their skills, passions, and experiences. Here are two questions she suggested to help you get started.
What Are You Good At?
Have you ever heard people say, “God equips the called rather than calling the equipped”? I cringe every time I hear that. I understand what they’re trying to communicate—the greatest feats are done by men and women who feel so completely out of their depth that they have to desperately rely on God every step of the way. Amen. Yet God begins equipping you at the moment of conception—his empowerment is written in your DNA. Then he weaves together your strengths, weaknesses, and experiences to prepare you for your calling. Don’t forget that by the time Paul was converted, God had spent years preparing him through his training under Gamaliel.4 Likewise, Peter’s passion and impetuousness (which caused him to lop off someone’s ear one moment and deny Jesus the next) was molded, not overridden, by the Holy Spirit.5
What Do You Enjoy Doing?
My mom has had a passion for missions since I was young, but her greatest fear was that God would send her to India. That fear came from what I call “misery theology.” I’m referring to the teaching that says, “Never say, ‘God, please don’t send me there’ because that’s where he will send you!” The idea is that if you refuse God in any area, that area becomes the most important battleground. That may be true enough, but misery theology implies that God is most happy when you’re most miserable.
My experience has been quite the opposite. If (and this is a big if ) our desire is to obey God, he is more likely to lead us by the desires of our own hearts. After my siblings and I moved out of the house, my mom and dad were able to spend several years on the mission field. Where did God send them? Mexico. And they loved it.
I love the way author and pastor Frederick Buechner put it.
The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work (a) that you need most to do and (b) that the world most needs to have done. If you really get a kick out of your work, you’ve presumably met requirement (a), but if your work is writing cigarette ads, the chances are you’ve missed requirement (b). On the other hand, if your work is being a doctor in a leper colony, you have probably met requirement (b), but if most of the time you’re bored and depressed by it, the chances are you have not only bypassed (a) but probably aren’t helping your patients much either.
Neither the hair shirt nor the soft berth will do. The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.6
My calling lies where my deep gladness to study and proclaim truth meets the world’s need to know that truth. That’s my calling. What’s yours?
• Your deep gladness might be to care for the sick and dying, and the world’s deep need is for nurses and caregivers filled with God’s Spirit to bring his comfort into nursing homes and oncology wards.
• Your gladness might be to swing a hammer and build things (or tear them down!), and the world’s need is for ethical carpenters who work hard, don’t steal from their companies or clients, and are examples of God’s love.
• Your gladness might be chatting with people and making coffee, and the world’s need might be for caffeine made by people who genuinely care about their day and whisper a quick prayer under their breath.
• Your greatest passion might be to raise, nurture, and train children, and the world’s need is for adults who have been loved, are well-disciplined, and follow Jesus.
If you could do anything for God and knew you couldn’t fail, what would it be?7 Don’t focus on your shortcomings, but on his grace. I’m not promising that you’ll accomplish that exact thing, but you’re far more likely to find your true calling if you’re moving in the right direction. Nor am I promising that you’ll be able to make your living through your calling. Since my time at Starbucks, I’ve developed a great respect for people who work a full week and then pursue their calling in their free time.
I know the ambitions I have for my daughters. I want them to be great and excel at whatever they put their hands to. Part of the reason I have them help me wash the car is to prepare them for greatness. I’m convinced that my ambition for my children is a reflection of our heavenly Father’s ambitions for us. “He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:32).
If he loves and values you enough to send his Son to die for you, to pull you out of the pit of your sin, do you think he will be satisfied leaving you at the edge that pit? He has much greater aspirations for you than merely keeping you out of hell. Pursue greatness. Pursue your calling and don’t worry whether others think it’s spiritual enough—God’s opinion is the only one that really matters. God can’t wait to start washing that car with you.
Working at Starbucks, I was bothered to see how often the quirkiest customers turned out to be Christians. Many Christians seem to take being “a peculiar people” just a little too literally. Well-intentioned but misguided attempts to be separate from the world have led to a great flood of weirdness, including (but not limited to) building our own Christian theme parks and having our own list of Christian swear words. Being indistinguishable from our culture is a problem, but so is being completely detached from it.