When I started seminary, I read an article that talked about the danger of making Bible-reading and prayer into part of my professional job description rather than a spiritual discipline, but I didn’t expect it to happen to me.

It makes sense.  I used to do computer programming as a hobby – until I started doing that for a living.  Who wants to go home and do more work?  I didn’t.  It was no longer a fun thing I did for myself.

Reading the Bible and even setting aside specific times for prayer were painted with the same brush as church administration, expense reports, newsletter articles, and even preaching.  Stuff I have to do.  As I became more and more burned out, more things moved from the “Things I’m Passionate About” list to the “Things I Have to Do for My Job” list.  At some point, without my realizing it, reading the Bible became something to do because I needed to teach a Bible study or preach.  Not a good place to be if you consider that we don’t live by bread alone but by the Word of God.

God was gracious and gentle with me during that time, but I always had a sense that it wasn’t supposed to be this hard.  Part of the difficulty came from turning the things God intends as a blessing to all Christians into an obligation for a job.

So I didn’t finish reading the New Testament – that felt like an obligation.  But I did get to re-experience the joy of reading the Bible.  I can read any part that strikes my fancy that day.  I can research a topic I’m interested in.  Or I can just experience the comfort of one of my favorite Psalms.

I’m not quite out of detox yet, and it will be a challenge as I re-enter my pastoral role to make sure I don’t slide back into seeing it as an obligation/job requirement.

Anyone have ideas?  Let me know!

From Charles Spurgeon’s “Faith’s Checkbook”
Choice Men (women too, -ed.)
August 27
I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction. (Isaiah 48:10)
This has long been the motto fixed before our eye upon the wall of our bedroom, and in many ways it has also been written on our heart. It is no mean thing to be chosen of God. God’s choice makes chosen men choice men. Better to be the elect of God than the elect of a whole nation. So eminent is this privilege, that whatever drawback may be joined to it we very joyfully accept it, even as the Jew ate the bitter herbs for the sake of the Paschal Lamb. We choose the furnace, since God chooses us in it.  We are chosen as an afflicted people and not as a prosperous people, chosen not in the palace but in the furnace. In the furnace beauty is marred, fashion is destroyed, strength is melted, glory is consumed, and yet here eternal love reveals its secrets and declares its choice. So has it been in our case. In times of severest trial God has made to us our calling and election plain, and we have made it sure: then have we chosen the Lord to be our God, and He has shown that we are assuredly His chosen. Therefore, if today the furnace be heated seven times hotter, we will not dread it, for the glorious Son of God will walk with us amid the glowing coals.

Sent from Faith’s Checkbook Mobile Devotion Android app – www.WhitneyApps.com

We had the opportunity to spend a couple of days in Santa Cruz with Eleanor’s family, and someone in the group wanted to check out the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.  After getting everyone settled and feeding them, we made the short (by adult standards) walk to the beach.  By now it was evening, and the Boardwalk was really crowded, so we decided to walk along the shore.  The kids kicked off their shoes and walked through the water as it washed up on the beach.  Everyone was having a good time.  But the kids started getting more and more energized.  They dared to run farther out.  They cared less and less about getting wet.  Eventually, they tore off their shirts and started wading in the cold water as it was getting dark.   We expected them to come to their senses at any moment.  We thought they’d notice how cold they were and come back out seeking warmth.  But it didn’t happen because, as I mentioned earlier, my children have no common sense.

As parents, we tried to stop them.  We knew that they didn’t have spare clothes.  We knew that we had to walk a mile to get back to the house.  We knew that what the kids found so fun right now  was going to make them miserable very soon!  But now it was done.  The die was cast.

We (the parents) started talking about how to help our children.  Eventually, we decided that I would run back to the house, grab the minivan, drive back to the beach, and pick up the wet kids so they didn’t have to make the walk back in cold wet clothes.  You see, we love our senseless children and are willing to do completely unreasonable things to ensure their well-being – even when the problem is one of their own creation.

As I was huffing and puffing on the run back up the hill, I thought about my own life and my relationship with God, which is a lot like my relationship with my children.  God loves me extravagantly and – even though I frequently seem to have no common sense – continues to go to unreasonable lengths to ensure my well-being.

In fact, as I was trekking up that hill, I realized that I didn’t know the house number of the place I was trying to find.  I knew what street it was one, and I would know it from sight, but it wasaloooong street, and the kids were waiting for me.  I heard, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own insight.  In all your ways, acknowledge him, and he will make your path straight.”  (Proverbs 3:5)  I turned left and found the house with the minivan waiting right out front.  Even as I as working to care for my children, there was another pair of arms underneath, holding both them and me.