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C. S. Lewis said, “He who has God plus many things has nothing more than he who has God alone.”
“If God gives you a dream, and the dream comes to life and God shows up in it, and then the dream dies, it may be that God wants to see what is more important to you—the dream or him. And once he’s seen that, you may get your dream back. Or you may not, and you may live the rest of your life without it. But that will be okay, because you’ll have God.”
Why would God want us to let go of our dreams? Because anything I am unwilling to let go of is an idol, and I am in sin.
And then there was Henri Nouwen. A Catholic priest with a brilliant mind, Henri was invited to teach at Harvard. (Yes, that Harvard.) As a teacher, could you possibly have any more impact than that? God was clearly positioning Henri for some major impact. And then in 1985, after just three years at Harvard, Henri walked away to spend the rest of his life living in a community for the disabled, devoting a significant portion of his time every day to the care and feeding of a severely disabled young man named Adam. Why? Because he was convinced that is what God wanted him to do.
Henry Blackaby is a lifelong Baptist pastor and church planter who unexpectedly became a successful author in his late sixties after penning the devotional study Experiencing God, based on his own life experiences.
“If you start something and it does not seem to go well, consider carefully that God, on purpose, may not be authenticating what you told the people because it did not come from Him, but from your own head. You may have wanted to do something outstanding for God and forgot that God does not want that. He wants you to be available to Him, and more important, to be obedient to Him.”
“It is not more head knowledge we need; it is a heart relationship we must develop.”
“It is not what is in your heart, nor what you want to accomplish for God, nor what you want to see in your church, nor even what you want to see in your group of churches. The key is not what you want to see (your vision), but what is in God’s heart and what is in His mind.”
“We have no business telling God what we want to accomplish for him or dreaming up what we want to do for him.” And “The people of God are not to be a people of vision; they are to be a people of revelation.”
The Christian life wasn’t about running like a maniac; it was about walking with God. It wasn’t about impact; it was about obedience. It wasn’t about making stuff up; it was about listening.
asks you to do each and every day. Living in active relationship with him. Filling your mind with his Word, and letting that Word penetrate every waking moment.
“When God encounters His people . . . sin is exposed immediately. People cry out to God, ‘Oh God, forgive me!’ ”
At first I was anxiously expecting God to reveal the next “big thing”—the next mountain he wanted me to climb—the next life-changing story he wanted me to write. But after a few weeks stretched into a few months, I didn’t care so much anymore. Eventually it struck me that I no longer felt the need to write anything. I didn’t need to have any impact at all.
Whatever needs I had were being met by the Scripture I was reading and by the life of prayer I was developing. My passion was shifting from impact to God.
There is a scene in C. S. Lewis’s Voyage of the Dawn Treader involving Eustace, a boy so selfish, prideful, and greedy that he wakes up one day to find he has literally turned into a dragon. Life as a dragon proves so lonely and the dragon skin so uncomfortable that he soon longs to return to his friends, longs to be human again. In this scene, Aslan the lion leads Eustace the dragon to a pool. Eustace enters the pool and tries unsuccessfully to scratch off the aching dragon skin. Then Aslan says, “Lie down. This is going to hurt.” And with a long, terrible claw, Aslan digs deep into Eustace’s
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God could have spared me from the pain of Big Idea’s collapse. He could have spared me from the consequences of my own mistakes and missteps. But he didn’t. And it wasn’t about “God and Big Idea.” It was about “God and Phil.”
I realized this when I heard myself say to my wife one night, “I don’t want to write anything.” I was ready to be done, if that’s what God wanted. To just rest in him and let everything else fall away. At long last, after a lifetime of striving, God was enough. Not God and impact or God and ministry. Just God.
God doesn’t love me because of what I can do for him. He just loves me—even when I’ve done nothing at all. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). That’s wild, wild stuff.
I believed I could change the world, and the weight of that belief almost crushed me. But guess what—apart from God, I can do nothing. I can’t get anywhere. I’m useless. Spineless. Without form. My ability to accomplish anything good is dependent on my willingness to dwell in the current of God’s will. To wait on God and let him supply my form and my direction. Like a jellyfish.
Here’s the deal, and this is important, so listen closely: If I am a Christian—if I have given Christ lordship of my life—where I am in five years is none of my business. Where I am in twenty years is none of my business. Where I am tomorrow is none of my business. So our plan at Jellyfish—and it’s an odd one, I’ll admit—is to make no long-range plans unless God gives them explicitly. No “BHAGs,” no inspiring PowerPoint vision statements. Just a group of people on their knees, trusting God for guidance each day. Holding everything loosely but God himself.
God has taught me to focus not on results, but on obedience. Not on the destination, but on the journey.
First, God loves you. Not because of what you can do, or even because of what you can become if you work really, really hard. He loves you because he made you. He loves you just the way you are. He loves you even when you aren’t doing anything at all. We really shouldn’t attempt to do anything for God until we have learned to find our worth in him alone.
Second, when it is time to do something for God, and that time will come quickly if you’re listening, don’t worry about the out-come. Don’t worry about “10 percent more” or “30 percent less.” That’s his job. Your responsibility is simply to do what he asks.
Finally, and I am very serious when I say this, beware of your dreams, for dreams make dangerous friends. We all have them—longings for a better life, a healthy child, a happy marriage, rewarding work. But dreams are, I have come to believe, misplaced longings. False lovers. Why? Because God is enough. Just God. And he isn’t “enough” because he can make our dreams come true—no, you’ve got him confused with Santa or Merlin or Oprah. The God who created the universe is ...
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God was enough for the martyrs facing lions and fire—even when the lions and the fire won. And God is enough for you. But you can’t discover the truth of that statement while you’re clutching at your dreams. You need to let them go. Let yourself fall. Give up. As terrifying as it sounds, you’ll discover that falling feels a lot like floating. And falling into God’s arms—relying solely on his power and his will for your life—that’s where the fun starts. That’s whe...
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The impact God has planned for us doesn’t occur when we’re pursuing impact. It occurs...
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I realized God had let my dream die, not because he didn’t love me, but rather because he loved me so much—because I was actually more important to him than any “good work” I could possibly accomplish.
