Mark Johnston

When the Props are Pulled Away

When I was a kid, there was a tragic car accident just outside our small town.  A mom and several kids were killed.  I saw a photo of her husband on the front page of the newspaper a day or two later, taken as he arrived at the scene.  He appeared wild with grief; police officers physically restraining him.  I recall hearing a few days later that he’d been hospitalized under psychiatric care from the strain.

What happens when you pull away the props?  Some of us have already experienced a loss of similar magnitude; most of us will evade heartbreak that comprehensive.  But all of us, on some dark day of our lives, will be crushed by news we hoped would never come: a diagnosis of cancer; bankruptcy; the end of a relationship; the death of a spouse or a friend or a child.

What happens when you pull away the props?

I’m certainly not implying that our families, friends, health, or financial well-being are merely crutches we’re leaning on in our weakness.  But the stark reality is that everything outside of our souls is up for grabs.  We’re not promised perfectly clear skies.  So in some ways, yes: everything – and everyone – we have is ultimately a prop; part of the suspension system of our lives. 

Yet if we are in Christ, they’re not the substance of our life itself.

That’s because if our faith is in Jesus, our life is in him.  The apostle Paul put it this way: I have learned the secret of living in every situation… For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength (Philippians 4:12,13 – NLT).

I spent much of the past week sick with a crazy stomach bug.  At first I thought I was recovering; then suddenly, back in bed.  When I get sick, I get frustrated – like a little kid worried all the other kids are having more fun than me on the playground while I’m stuck in the house. 

My physical health is a prop, and I tend to lean on it too heavily.  When the prop is pulled away, the flimsiness of my faith is exposed.

This doesn’t mean we should face suffering with stoic rigor, unmoved by life’s calamities.  Mourning, weeping, and shuddering with pain are all legitimate reactions to the experience of loss.  But there is a central distinction between a believer and an unbeliever here: we do “not grieve like people who have no hope” (I Thessalonians 4:13 – NLT).

What will you do when the props are pulled away?  Maybe that’s where you find yourself right now.  If so, reestablish the hub of your hope.  It’s in Jesus alone.  And if not – if life is relatively smooth at this moment – then don’t procrastinate “learning the secret of living in every situation” until a disastrous one envelops you.

Be thankful for your props.  But build the kind of life in Christ that can, if loss cannot be avoided, stand firm without them.

First Things First: The Remix

To open 2011 at The Journey we did a series called “First Things First,” built around three basics of spiritual discipline:

• Gathering weekly with others for worship
• Connecting daily to God through prayer and the scriptures
• Serving regularly for the advance of the kingdom by giving

It’s been my experience that when these simple practices are consistent (without becoming robotic) we tend to grow spiritually; and that when they are absent or sporadic we tend to languish.  Of course, these aren’t the only hinges upon which our progress swings – but they are central, scriptural, and powerful.

They’re also linked tightly to each other.  To do one or two without the other(s) is to realize not 1/3 or 2/3 of their collective power, but far less.  Conversely, to embrace all three is to experience not three times any particular practice’s effect, but far more.

Simply put, if you and I give God the first part of our week, the first part of our day, and the first part of our finances – and we do all this from the heart, not out of guilt or manipulation or to look good to others – it is likely we will grow spiritually.

Something else is likely as well: that God will abundantly bless the remainder of our week, the rest of our day, and the balance of our money.  If we give him the first part, something remarkable will happen to the rest.  He will press into it his best for our lives.

This coming weekend, gather with others for worship.  Don’t just be a spectator – lift your heart and give God praise; receive his word into the deepest recesses of your being, committing to its application; and express biblical hospitality to the people around you, especially the stranger.  Give Jesus the first part of your week.  (If you’re a Journeyer, this Sunday you can do this at the finale of “Green Eyed Monster”.)

Tomorrow, start your day by connecting to God in prayer.  Read the scriptures.  Consider what they reveal about the majesty, power, and love of God.  Then review your calendar and task list through the lens of the experience you just had with Christ.  Decide what you’ll do (and what you won’t) to fully glorify God and bring fame to Jesus in your context over the next 24 hours.  Give him the first part of your day.

Today, serve his cause and house instead of just your own by giving.  If, like Jacob, your heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for God’s goodness and trust that he’ll provide for you, offer a tenth of everything he’s given back to him.  If you’re convinced tithing is not for today, gladly give far more than a tenth… as there can be no argument that generosity saturates both testaments.  Give God the first part of your income.

First things first: because the first part is the part that matters most, and the part that matters most belongs to the One who matters most.  

It Doesn't FIt

What are you missing?

What are you lacking right now that, if you had it, would enable you to do something noteworthy?

Let’s take it one step further: who does have it?  Who has what you wish you had?  Is where you wish you were?

Who has more money?  More free time?  Who’s further ahead?  More respected?  Older?  Younger?  Who has more friends, education, or opportunities?  Who has less worries, restraints, or hoops to jump through?

Who has a bigger budget, team, church, house, or job?  Who has it made?

If you’re like me, you’re tempted to think you’d be winning if you only had what they have.  If you’re like me, you often pine for a chance to try it on.

When David was about to fight Goliath, Saul gave David his own armor—a bronze helmet and a coat of mail. ³⁹David put it on, strapped the sword over it, and took a step or two to see what it was like, for he had never worn such things before (I Samuel 17:38,39 – NLT). 

David had watched soldiers and kings stride into battle wearing stuff like this, but he’d never been lucky, blessed, or accomplished enough to try it on himself.  This was the moment when the world would finally see that the trappings of royalty really did suit him.

But then: “I can’t go in these,” he protested to Saul. “I’m not used to them” (39).

Are you as honest as David?  Could you admit that someone else’s education, skill-set, relationships, connections, or achievements didn’t fit you even if you had a chance to try them on?

The fact is if you suddenly had the hot job or thriving ministry or perfect family or ideal opportunity you’re envying someone else for right now it wouldn’t fit, because you wouldn’t be used to it.

It would make your butt look big.

You have exactly what you need right now.  You’re not missing anything.  And if you step aside to try on someone else’s success, you’ll just be wasting your time.  A few steps and you’ll realize: “I can’t go in these.”

You’re shaped differently than they are.  A stick fits in your hand better than a sword.  A slingshot in your fist is more protection than a bronze helmet on your head.  And five stones find their place in your pocket better than a coat of mail does upon your chest.

That doesn’t mean you have to stay stuck at some trivial level: David didn’t kill squirrels with his slingshot, he slew giants.  You can use what you have to get to whatever height God wants you to go.  But Saul’s armor isn’t your ticket.

You don’t need someone else’s props.  You already have God’s power.

So David took them off again. ⁴⁰He picked up five smooth stones from a stream and put them into his shepherd’s bag. Then, armed only with his shepherd’s staff and sling, he started across the valley to fight the Philistine (39,40).

Dear Susie

Dear Susie,

Happy Valentine’s Day!  We spent our first Valentine’s Day in 1996 as college students just beginning to fall in love.  I remember the first time I kissed you a few weeks later, you know that?  I can still feel that delicious, tingly craziness I felt standing in the music room fifteen years ago leaning over you as you sat at the piano and kissing you, my lips drawing in yours, the connection, the adhesion that occurred.  All the silly schoolboy nervousness I felt.

In the years since, I’ve watched you bloom into a remarkable woman – a mother to kids who require and receive so much from you; an influencer who has thrown your life into the vision of our church; a friend to anyone who faces a moment of need; and the wife, partner, and biggest fan of a guy trying to find and hold onto his place in God and the world.

How you put up with my cantankerous, selfish eccentricities I’ll never know.  How you can trust me and respect me so fiercely, so passionately, in spite of my inability to love you back as well as you love me I can’t comprehend.  How you can be so affectionate and caring toward me, not just in public when it matters and makes you look good, but in private when it makes me feel good is a mystery to me.

You have an astounding ability to absorb pain and disappointment and continue to believe in me and in our life and ministry together.  You have at times had to live on so little – attention, recognition, money, and respect – and yet you have always made much of it, scooping together the crumbs and creating a banquet for our family to enjoy.  In each season of blessing we’ve known, you’ve remained simple and pure in your ambitions and intense in your integrity.

You’re the better person in our marriage.  I tend to get more credit and applause because I’ve been called to talk in public; but you’re the better person.  Stronger than I am.  Deeper than I am.  More like Jesus than I am.  I married up.  Thanks for saying “yes.”

Happy Valentine’s Day.  I really like being married to you.

Love,

Mark

Are You Sure?

Everybody wants their church to grow.  Until it does.

Suddenly not all of us are so sure anymore.  Think about it: if you’re a member of a church and it starts to grow, you’ll probably have to:

• Sit somewhere new
• Park further away
• Interact with someone you don’t know
• Let someone new talk to the pastor
• Give more so growth can continue
• Realize your personal preferences may not weigh as much as they once did
• Trust the people who are leading you

These are hard adjustments for some people to make.

If you’re a leader in a church and it starts to grow, it gets even worse.  You’ll probably have to:

• Increase your character
• Bite your tongue
• Grow your team by developing others
• Micro-manage less and macro-manage more
• Be willing to be held accountable for your performance
• Decide if it’s really worth it to you
• Trust the people who are leading you

Not everyone’s up to that.

If you’re a pastor of a church and it starts to grow, things can reach a fever pitch.  You’ll probably have to:

• Take your spirituality seriously
• Work harder
• Keep office hours
• Face your demons
• Abandon the comfort of control
• Say “no” to people who seem powerful
• Trust the One who is leading you

Some of us may not want the burden of that.

So are you sure?  When you pray for God to grow your church – whether you’re a member of it, a leader in it, or a pastor of it – do you really mean it?

Because chances are, when God answers your prayers, you’ll have to figure out what your life is really all about.  What matters most.  How much a lot of other people finding Jesus and following him fully is truly worth to you.

Before you go and put yourself in that uncomfortable position, or waste a lot of time praying for something you don’t really want and aren’t really prepared for, you should stop for a minute and ask yourself this simple question:

Am I sure?

If it means changing my seat, sacrificing my preferences, and giving more of my life… am I sure?  If it means going the second mile, living for something that doesn’t always directly benefit me, and dealing with the messiness of increase… am I sure?

If you’re sure, then I pray God will bless you and your church will explode with transformed lives.  If you’re not sure, then I pray everyone you could have reached if you would have been willing to make those sacrifices will find somewhere else to meet Jesus.

Who knows, maybe it’ll be The Journey.  Because although we’re not perfect, I’m pretty sure we’re sure.

Original Vision

I heard an interview the other day with an up and coming band about the temptations that come with succeeding a little. They talked about the palpable tension that’s created when you’ve made enough progress to no longer be dropping tunes in your garage, but not enough to have your ambitions fully realized. 

It’s the friction created by a congruence of forces: the drive to gain increased exposure and market share; the lure to settle instead for the safety of the consolation prize; the enticement of fame and money and the shortcuts that lead to them; and the fight to hold on, in the midst of all that, to the original vision.  

If your original vision is to make great music that influences people and changes the world, then you have to leverage any success you experience to fuel your original vision.  That means looking at every decision you make through that lens.  The moment you don’t, you’ll either settle for the incomplete or chase the distorted. 

In other words, moderate success is a lot like money: it’s a valuable tool, but falling in love with it leads to all kinds of evil.

Much could be written about how a little success can feed blind ambition and the prostitution of our original calling.  But I think an equally dangerous phenomenon occurs when we put down roots too early; buy a plot of land at a rest stop rather than continuing on our journey.  It’s what happens when we have enough to pay the bills, satisfy our self-esteem, and provide a reasonable amount of stories to tell about conquering the foothills (instead of taking on the mountains).

I saw it often when I traveled to preach in churches across the U.S: pastors leading “solid” churches who hadn’t changed anything significant in ten years.  They told stories of the good old days complete with risks, miracles, spiritual battles, and monumental decisions.  But the most important thing they’d done recently was hang a photo of themselves in the lobby.

This temptation to cave, to become satisfied too soon with a little success, is especially alluring if it has:

• Taken us longer than we’d thought
• Cost us more than we’d assumed
• Looking different than we’d hoped

My original vision was, and is, to reach an innumerable amount of not yet Christians and lead them into an authentic and flourishing faith in Jesus.  I can pinpoint moments of my journey when that original vision has prompted me to say “no” to things that could have made me more successful in the short term and “yes” to things that have scared me half to death.

I don’t want moderate success to rob me of that original vision.  So I’m willing to change everything again if I have to.  I’m headed to the mountains.

How about you?