Let me just go ahead and lay my cards on the table now. This post was unabashedly inspired by Billy Joel’s “Vienna” and I hope you’ll forgive me if I quote the lyrics repeatedly throughout. Go ahead and listen to it when you get a chance, because this man speaks truth. I’ve been addicted to this song lately, and I can’t stop thinking about the difficulty of actually taking Joel’s advice and “slowing down” when the ambition and zealousness of youth is such a powerful driving force. Sometimes we, or should I say sometimes I, get so excited and inspired by an idealistic goal or a perceived good thing, that we (I) just jump right in headfirst. It’s good to have passion and I hope I never lose mine. But, my passion has an ugly twin named pride. And sometimes it’s not simply my desire and heart for something that drives me, but it’s also my sense of self-efficacy and personal accomplishment. For me, the trouble is that most of the time it’s tough to distinguish between the two.
Since I’ve been in Chicago this summer, I’ve been frequently confronted by both passion and pride. I came to this city to help out with a few new churches that are getting started, serving as summer staff with one in particular that is just getting off the ground. The goal is to help this church become more established and more firmly planted in the rocky soil of Chicago’s Wicker Park community by the time I leave. I love this church and I love the people of Wicker Park. There is no doubt that I’ve fallen in love with the city of Chicago (I keep a mental list of all the reasons this place is incredible and it grows everyday). I’m so happy to be passionate about the work that I’m pouring myself into and the way I’m spending my summer.
The sneaky thing about starting a church, however, is the pressure that you tend to put on yourself. I’m constantly thinking through our strategies and methods for reaching the community: What could we be doing better? What should we change or do differently? What can I contribute to this process? And there’s a constant questioning of time: How long does it take to start a church? How long should it take to make an impact on the community? How much can I help in the limited time that I’m here? I start to feel rushed and suddenly I want to jump to action and work double-time. When passion and pride join forces, an irresistible whirlwind of ambitious and romanticized visions take over the rest of my sensibilities.
I think this is the part where Billy might say, “you’re so ahead of yourself that you forget what you need”. And suddenly I’m reminded by this still small voice to “slow down”. Chill out, seriously. When I take a moment to breathe, and to pray, I am miraculously reminded that I didn’t come to Chicago because I loved the city or because I thought it was within my power to spearhead a spiritual revolution or even to start a church for that matter. I came here simply because God was telling me to. For those of you that don’t know God, I know that sounds crazy. But for those of you that do, I think you know what I’m talking about. God told me to come here and be a part of the work that He was already doing. This subtle reminder that God doesn’t need me to do anything is a necessary blow to my pride. As if that isn’t enough, I’m also reminded that God loved Chicago first. God loved Wicker Park first, and He was the first one to decide that a church should be started here. The only reason I have a passion for this place is because He has a passion for this place. And I’m going to need His help and direction pretty much every second of every day that I’m here, because this was all His plan in the first place.
Well, that’s humbling. But it’s also a relief. It’s good to know that the fate of this city, or even of another human life, doesn’t rest in my incapable hands. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to spend the rest of my life putting these feeble hands to the plow in an effort to labor for the truth that I know Jesus Christ offers. But, the harvest won’t belong to me. The results are all up to God.
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