As it happens, my “hitting the wall” moment happened to coincide with her being out of town for a week at a women’s conference. As the church grew, my wife Debbie found herself with more to do and more places to be. I wasn’t the only one in our household stretched increasingly thin. But I had been running on empty for years and it was finally catching up with me-physically, mentally, and emotionally. So, I had been striving mightily to live out that conviction. Indeed, my heart, value system, and biblical beliefs all demanded that I put family first. Of course, I was also fully committed to being the best husband and father I could be. And that as a good steward, I was obligated to take on everything that came my way. “After all,” I reasoned, “surely the invitation wouldn’t have come my way if God didn’t want me to go help those people.” I presumed, often without asking, that every invitation was an expression of God’s favor and blessing. I felt obligated to say yes to as many of these as I could. Within a few years I found myself preaching five or six times each weekend and leading a large, seemingly ever-growing staff during the week.Īt the same time, the increased profile of the church and some well-received books resulted in a steady stream of invitations to speak across North America and around the world. A second Sunday morning service was added, followed by a Saturday night service. Growth brought help and increased division of labor, but the pressures and demands expanded in parallel. In the early days of any church startup, the founder is not only the preacher, but also the business manager, operations manager, personnel director, and the custodian. We’d all pretty much been charging forward at a dead run from the day we founded the church with only a small group of friends in a living room, but me most of all. “How little,” you ask? One morning several years ago, I discovered that nothing more challenging than an empty sock drawer was sufficient to push me over the edge.Īt the time, Gateway Church, the church in the Dallas–Fort Worth metropolitan area it is my privilege to pastor, had been in hyper-growth mode for years. What does it take to reduce a grown man-the respected head of a large and rapidly growing enterprise with scores of employees, no less-to a weepy, bewildered, half-dressed heap on his closet floor? Surprisingly little, it turns out, under the right circumstances. Read it, then read it again.Ī century ago Charles Spurgeon gave this advice to his preaching students: God has given him a message for our generation. He is a dear friend, generous with his wisdom and gracious with his leadership. In this powerful, restorative book, Robert Morris calls us back to the ancient practice of regular renewal. That plan includes ordained moments of rest. The One who leads us has a plan to restore us. Yet we are so busy making a living, we have no time to ponder the meaning of living. And these are the kind of questions which, left unanswered, will steal our sleep. From where did I come? To where am I going? What is right? What is wrong? When I’ve done wrong, how can I be made right? Do I have a Maker and does my Maker care about me? These are the primeval questions of the soul. We are eternal creatures and we ask eternal questions. But much more importantly, our souls are tired. (Somehow we forget to mention Albert Einstein who averaged eleven hours of sleep a night.) In 1910 Americans slept 9 hours a night, today we sleep 7 and are proud of it. We idolize Thomas Edison who claimed he could exist on fifteen-minute naps. They need a shepherd to help them “lie down in green pastures” (Ps. Unfortunately the sheep cannot find safe pasture, nor can they spray insecticide, deal with the frictions, or find food. Consequently, they are hesitant to relax.įor sheep to sleep, everything must be just right. When they fall over, they struggle to stand up. Perhaps the reason we count sheep to help us sleep is because they are awake.
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