July 31, 2011. For most people it was a forgettable summer Sunday, but I remember it every day. The clouds matched my mood. They were thick and foreboding from dawn until dusk, lying heavily like a waterlogged towel waiting to be wrung out. I’ve always felt restless when anticipating rain – never more so than on that day.
It was the morning I preached my last sermon at the church we had started three years earlier. It seemed like it might be the last sermon I would ever preach.
When I try to talk or write about how I felt during those final moments behind the pulpit, I inevitably end up sounding melodramatic like Morgan Freeman narrating a jailbreak or Katniss Everdeen describing District 12, but I can’t help it. Preaching was what I loved, it’s what I was good at, it's what defined me. Giving it up wasn’t easy. Giving things up never is.
I sometimes wonder what Abraham felt when he placed Isaac on the altar. Isaac wasn’t just Abraham’s son, Isaac was Abraham’s promise. He was an answered prayer and a dream fulfilled. In fact, Isaac was what defined Abraham - Abraham couldn’t be a father of many nations without a son.
God asked Abraham to give up what defined him. I wonder what the clouds were like that day.
Abraham’s story isn’t so different from ours – just more dramatic. God asks us to give things up, too. Whether it’s a relationship, a career, a talent or a ministry, God instructs us to take the things we have used to define ourselves and place them on His altar.
He asked me to give up something I loved. What might He be asking you? That's a question you need to consider, because if there is something in your life that is too important - something in your life that comes before God - it's an unhealthy thing. Be ready; God will ask you to lay it down.
For me, the story isn’t over. The last six months have been the most freeing of my life. They’ve been sloppy, but freeing. I rarely hear a sermon now without weeping. It’s kind of embarrassing. I try to conceal the tears, but they fall too quickly. People around me see my crying and they turn away uncomfortably. I think Heather is embarrassed.
You wouldn't know it from my Sunday blubbering, but I’ve come to peace with laying my call on the altar. God has blessed me, and I am grateful. I have a cool new job that lets me write and drink coffee on a full-time basis. What's better than that? I still get to use words, I still get to communicate the Gospel, and I still get to wear shirts from Buckle - not so different from preaching.
Most importantly, God is showing me every day that I am not defined by what I do or by what I did. I am defined simply as a son. His son. It doesn’t matter if I preach each weekend or write copy for other ministries, I'm more than a job description.
Cloudy days are different now. They serve as a reminder. When the skies darken and the umbrellas come out, I can't help but think back to July 31, 2011. And that's when I remember that I am not a church-planter or a copywriter; I’m just a son. That’s enough for me.
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