Off my Starbucks cup—with apologies to Solomon:
“There’s a difference between interest and commitment. When you’re interested in doing something, you do it only when circumstances permit. When you’re committed to something, you accept no excuses, just results.”
--Art Turock
Now, while Art is an entrepreneur, and as such, is applying this to the business world, I think this applies to our whole lives, and certainly to the most central part: our spiritual lives.
Too often I have known people who are interested in being Christians…they go to church, they participate in the activities, they read their Bibles—as long as nothing else comes up. They would consider themselves good people, on their way to heaven; surely God will honor their interest!
But in truth, they are giving half-hearted efforts. They will live a degree of faith as long as they are not inconvenienced to interrupt the rest of their lives. Their identity comes from what they do and who they know—not who God has called them to be.
However, I also know people who are committed to God and the life to which he has called all humanity. While they recognize their deficiencies and the war between what they are comfortable with and what they know they are called to, they also refuse to give up. They realize that their commitment is not convenient—nor is it meant to be—but it is important, their first priority, and as such, minor things give in to its weight.
And while I would like to classify myself in the committed category, I know my heart too well. There are times when my spiritual walk slips into last place, and other priorities clamor for my attention. I become interested in acting like a Christian, instead of letting God take control of my life. The choices I make which determine how I relate to others, how I entertain myself, the thoughts I feed into my mind—all this is a reflection of my priorities, of where my commitment lies.
I know the cost—it demands all of me, who I am in the very core of my being. How much worth is Christ to me? Can I section off my life, and give him only what I’m comfortable with?
I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.
I want to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, sharing in his suffering and becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.
Not that I’ve already gotten there, or that I’ve already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. I know my deficiencies. But I also know this: only by forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead will I be able to arrive where I’ve always wanted—at the finish line, holding the prize of a faith well-lived.
(loose paraphrase by me)
So what’s it worth to me? And am I willing to pay the cost?
“There’s a difference between interest and commitment. When you’re interested in doing something, you do it only when circumstances permit. When you’re committed to something, you accept no excuses, just results.”
--Art Turock
Now, while Art is an entrepreneur, and as such, is applying this to the business world, I think this applies to our whole lives, and certainly to the most central part: our spiritual lives.
Too often I have known people who are interested in being Christians…they go to church, they participate in the activities, they read their Bibles—as long as nothing else comes up. They would consider themselves good people, on their way to heaven; surely God will honor their interest!
But in truth, they are giving half-hearted efforts. They will live a degree of faith as long as they are not inconvenienced to interrupt the rest of their lives. Their identity comes from what they do and who they know—not who God has called them to be.
However, I also know people who are committed to God and the life to which he has called all humanity. While they recognize their deficiencies and the war between what they are comfortable with and what they know they are called to, they also refuse to give up. They realize that their commitment is not convenient—nor is it meant to be—but it is important, their first priority, and as such, minor things give in to its weight.
And while I would like to classify myself in the committed category, I know my heart too well. There are times when my spiritual walk slips into last place, and other priorities clamor for my attention. I become interested in acting like a Christian, instead of letting God take control of my life. The choices I make which determine how I relate to others, how I entertain myself, the thoughts I feed into my mind—all this is a reflection of my priorities, of where my commitment lies.
I know the cost—it demands all of me, who I am in the very core of my being. How much worth is Christ to me? Can I section off my life, and give him only what I’m comfortable with?
I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.
I want to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, sharing in his suffering and becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.
Not that I’ve already gotten there, or that I’ve already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. I know my deficiencies. But I also know this: only by forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead will I be able to arrive where I’ve always wanted—at the finish line, holding the prize of a faith well-lived.
(loose paraphrase by me)
So what’s it worth to me? And am I willing to pay the cost?
1 comment:
Thanks Sarah. I appreciate this.
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