Some delude themselves because of God’s mercy. They say: “I still have a little time left to live how I like. Why shouldn’t I live how I like as much as I like and then turn to God later? After all, God has promised to pardon me.” I respond, “True, but he has not promised that you are going to be alive tomorrow.”

—Augustine, Sermon 339.7

So those who imagine that they are called to contemplation because they are attracted by contemplation, when the common duties of existence steadily block this path, do well to realise that our own feelings and preferences are very poor guides when it comes to the robust realities and stern demands of the Spirit.

St. Paul did not want to be an apostle to the Gentiles. He wanted to be a clever and appreciated young Jewish scholar, and kicked against the pricks. St. Ambrose and St. Augustine did not want to be overworked and worried bishops. Nothing was farther from their intentions. St. Francis Xavier’s preference was for an ordered life close to his beloved master, St. Ignatius. At a few hours notice he was sent to be the Apostle of the Indies and never returned to Europe again. Henry Martyn, the fragile and exquisite scholar, was compelled to sacrifice the intellectual life to which he was so perfectly fitted for the missionary life to which he felt decisively called. In all these, a power beyond themselves decided the direction of life. Yet in all we recognise not frustration, but the highest of all types of achievement. Things like this—and they are constantly happening—gradually convince us that the overruling reality of life is the Will and Choice of a Spirit acting not in a mechanical but in a living and personal way; and that the spiritual life does not consist in mere individual betterment, or assiduous attention to one’s own soul, but in a free and unconditional response to the Spirit’s pressure and call, whatever the cost may be.

—Evelyn Underhill, The Spiritual Life

Are you kicking against the pricks or surrendering your life to the Will and Choice of the Holy Spirit? Your decision will greatly affect how much joy you have in living, a joy that is not contingent on the fickleness of life and this world, but rather a joy that flows from living in the kind of relationship with your Creator that he created you to have.

Then Jesus said to them all: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23).

A Christian leader is a [person] of hope whose strength in the final analysis is based neither on self-confidence derived from his [or her] personality, nor on specific expectations for the future, but on the promise given him [or her]. This promise not only made Abraham travel to unknown territory; it not only inspired Moses to lead his people out of slavery; it is also the guiding motive for any Christian who keeps pointing to new life even in the face of corruption and death.

Without this hope, we will never be able to see value and meaning in the encounter with a decaying human being and become personally concerned. This hope stretches far beyond the limitations of one’s own psychological strength, for it is anchored not just in the soul of the individual but in God’s self-disclosure in history. Leadership therefore is not called Christian because it is permeated with optimism against all odds of life, but because it is grounded in the historic Christ-even which is understood as the definitive breach in the deterministic chain of human trial and error, and as a dramatic affirmation that there is light on the other side of darkness.

Every attempt to attach this hope of visible symptoms in our surroundings becomes a temptation when it prevents us from the realization that promises, not concrete successes, are the basis of Christian leadership. Many ministers, priests and Christian laymen have become disillusioned, bitter and even hostile when years of hard work bear no fruit, when little change is accomplished. Building a vocation on expectations of concrete results, however conceived, is like building a house on sand instead of on solid rock, and even takes away the ability to accept successes as free gifts [from God].

—Henri Nouwen, The Wounded Healer

Nouwen points to several truths that are applicable to any vocation a Christian chooses; it doesn’t have to be ordained ministry. He reminds us that life is finite and we are mortal. If all we have to hope for is in this world, we really might as well eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die. Instead, Nouwen reminds us of the Christian hope—living life now and forever with the Living God, a life that transcends the worst that can happen to us and our physical death, a life made possible by the death of Christ. This takes the pressure off of us to “succeed,” defined as producing results. The Christian defines “success” as the extent to which he or she is able to imitate Christ, to be able to deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Jesus (Mark 8:34).

On a personal note, having taken clinical pastoral education (CPE), I appreciate Nouwen’s sentiments above about a strength that is not our own and about the Christian hope stretching far beyond the limitations of one’s own psychological strength. With the strength of Christ living in me, it would be utterly impossible for me to minister to the sick and dying; on my own I have nothing to offer. When I embody Christ, however, I have everything to offer.

After this, the word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision:
“Do not be afraid, Abram.
I am your shield,
your very great reward.”

—Genesis 15:1

Do you consider God your “great reward” or are you pursuing other things you consider to be of greater reward? Do you see him as your shield or are you still looking to yourself or something else? How you answer these questions will give you keen insight into your relationship with God (or lack of one). If God is not your shield and great reward, can the alternatives you have chosen raise you from the dead and give you life? Can they help transform you into that which your highest hopes for being human desire?

He who will not part with all for Christ, is not worthy of him, and cannot know him; and the Lord is true, and cannot acknowledge him.

To let their light shine, not to force their interpretation of God’s designs, is the duty of Christians toward their fellows. Had you given yourselves to the understanding of his word that you might do it, and not to the quarrying from it of material wherewith to buttress your systems, in many a heart by this time would the name of the Lord be loved where now it remains unknown.

Men, undeterred by your explanations of Christianity—for you would not be forcing them on their acceptance—and attracted by your behavior, would be saying to each other, “I will turn and see this sight” [just as Moses did with the burning bush]. They would be drawing nigh to behold how those Christians loved one another, and how just and fair they were to every one that had to do with them! [They would see] that in no house of [Christians] was religion one thing, and the daily life another.

—George MacDonald, The Creation of Christ

Christianity is often unfairly criticized on the basis of its followers. But let’s be fair. We Christians are cracked vessels just like non-Christians and we sometimes, perhaps often, get it wrong. Do not, however, judge our Lord or his Gospel based exclusively on the imperfection of his followers. Doing so implies that you can do better. If you can, then do it. Show us how it is done without ever making a mistake or being in error.

As MacDonald rightly points out, Christ has not failed, but his followers sometimes do. It is to the glory of the Gospel, however, that Christ still loves us, warts and all, and works in those who profess to be his followers to help rid us of our warts. But doing so is a long, slow, arduous process and is often fraught with setbacks and temporary failures. That is what Paul et al. refer to in the NT when they talk about dying to self. It ain’t easy for anyone but we do not have to do it alone. We have Christ in us.

If we turn MacDonald’s argument around and focus on the positive aspects of discipleship rather than on our failings, MacDonald essentially argues that the extent to which we are able to overcome our sinful nature, with the help of Christ living in us, is the extent to which we are indeed able to be Christ’s bright lights who will be attractive to a broken world that desperately needs real hope and Good News.