I Don't Want to Be in Charge

Welcome to Scattered Moments. For roughly half my life, which at this point represents a rather substantial amount of time, I've wanted to be in charge. Not necessarily officially in charge. I didn't need a title, no. I just needed everybody to recognize that things would probably go a lot better if they would simply do what I thought they should do. I had this little inner monologue going on. If only I were in charge of this situation, if I was only in charge of this church, if only I were in charge of this organization, if only I was in charge of this government. Which is quite a thought when you consider that there are days when I can't remember where I put my glasses. But I was confident. If only I were in charge. The older I get, however, the less interested I am in being in that position. I really don't want it because life has slowly taught me something. I'm really not that good at being Lord. Take my time, for instance. When I'm in charge of my time, everything becomes urgent. I'm overbooked, I'm overextended, I'm exhausted, I'm distracted, nearsighted. And usually running about 12 minutes late. I'm busy doing six things at once and wondering why none of them are going particularly well. But when God is in charge of my time, something changes. These margins start appearing. There is rhythm. I become more present. People stop feeling like interruptions. Rest stops feeling like laziness. I begin to recognize the difference between something that's urgent and something that's actually important. My life becomes less about squeezing everything in and more about being present for what God has put in front of me. So I've decided I don't want to be in charge of my time. And I don't want to be in charge of my gifts either. Yes, God has given me some gifts. As Randy Stonehill says, I have gifts, but I don't want to talk about it because I don't want to get puffed up. He's also given me some eccentricities, peculiarities, some weaknesses, and assorted piccadillos. It's all a package deal. And when I'm in charge of my gifts, something strange happens. I start comparing. Is that person better than I am? Did they notice what I did? Why did he get that opportunity? I could have done that. How many people listened? Did anybody comment? Did anybody care? A gift that was supposed to glorify God suddenly becomes a very complicated way of glorifying self. But when Jesus is in charge of my gifts, I remember something important. They were his gifts in the first place. Then I can share them. I can enjoy them. I can celebrate somebody else's gifts without feeling threatened. I can create something and release it without demanding that the world applaud. The gift becomes purposeful, joyful, active, sacrificial. And every once in a while, God takes some little thing that I offered him and does something with it that I never could have orchestrated myself. So no, I don't want to be in charge of my gifts either. And while we're handing things over, let's talk about money. When I'm in charge of money, I get a little strange. I worry, I hoard, I calculate, I become fearful. I can become amazingly generous in theory. I have given away millions of imaginary dollars. Actual dollars require considerably more discernment. Because when I believe it's my money, scarcity starts whispering. What if you need that? What if something happened? What if there's not enough? And suddenly my hands start closing. And when Jesus is in charge, generosity becomes an adventure. I become resourceful, willing, courageous. Sometimes even that scary kind of generosity, the kind where you give something away and immediately think, was that wise? And somewhere underneath the nervousness, there's this little bit of joy because you know you've stepped into something larger than a financial transaction. You've you stepped into faith. And sometimes, inexplicably, provision comes from somewhere you never expected. So I'm learning. I don't want to be in charge of my money. And certainly don't want to be in charge of my emotions. Because when I'm running those, everything depends upon circumstance. Good news, I'm wonderful. Bad news, everything is terrible. Someone compliments me, it's the greatest day of my life. Someone criticizes me, I begin to mentally compose my defense before they finish the sentence. When I'm in charge, my emotions can become reactive, defensive, bitter, shame-filled, unforgiving, and disconnected. But when Jesus is Lord of my emotions, they don't disappear. They become honest, truth-based, grace-filled. I can grieve without despairing. I can be angry without becoming cruel, and I can be cruel. I can admit that I'm hurting without somebody else paying for it. I can celebrate without needing to possess. I can forgive. I can listen. I can be empathetic. My emotions don't have to be hidden. They simply don't get to sit on the throne. And that brings me to something even bigger. My story. Oh, I definitely wanted to be in charge of that. I wanted to decide how everything turned out. I wanted to choose the chapters. I'd prefer to select the characters. And there are several scenes I would very much like to edit out. But when I'm the author of my own story, I inevitably make myself the main character. Sometimes I'm the hero, sometimes I'm the victim, sometimes I'm the misunderstood genius nobody fully appreciates. But strangely enough, I'm almost always somewhere near the center of the book. That's a terrible place for me to live. Because when Jesus authors the story, suddenly even the chapters I would have deleted can have meaning. Failure can become redemption, heartache can become compassion, waiting can become preparation, weakness can become dependence. The story becomes bigger than me. There's a thread running through it. Grace. And somehow God can take these scattered moments, the beautiful ones, the embarrassing ones, the painful ones, even the ones that I seem to have absolutely wasted. And he can weave them into something that points beyond me. So I don't want to be in charge of the story. And finally, I don't want to be in charge of my legacy. There was a time when I thought quite a lot about what I might accomplish, what I could build, what people might remember. But the older I get, the more ridiculous it seems to try to manage what happens after I'm gone. I'm dead. That significantly limits my ability to supervise the project. If I'm responsible for making my life significant, that's, well, terrifying. But if God is in charge, He can take this mess and make something beautiful from it. Something far reaching, something continuing, something I may never even see. A word spoken today might encourage somebody years from now. Something given away might become provision for someone I've never met. A story might outlive the storyteller. A prayer might keep traveling long after the person who prayed it has gone home. Maybe that's what I've been learning all these years. I've spent a lot of my life trying to get the keys. The keys to my schedule, the keys to my gifts, my money, my emotions, my story, the keys to whatever I'm going to leave behind. And perhaps one of the greatest gifts of getting older is realizing I never needed the keys in the first place. I don't want to be in charge. In fact, thank God I'm not going to