Not long ago I had lunch with a close friend who runs a million-dollar overseas missions ministry. Before he had to leave for Sudan one weekend, we met for some great BBQ, talked about our ministries, our struggles and victories over the previous year, and caught up on some personal issues. At the end of our time together, Craig asked me, “How can I pray for you in the next few months?”
My mind raced. Our retreat was coming up. And our biggest fundraiser/service project was about to start taking shape. After that, we’d be recognizing our graduates, and launching off into the mayhem of summer. Beach Break. Camp 7.8. Middle School Mondays. Road Trip Tuesdays. Mid-week activities. Student conferences. Then…back-to-school events and football season. Ugh. I struggled to condense my mental mayhem into something verbal and…intelligible.
“Balance”, I said. “I’ve got so much looming over the horizon, I’ll neglect my family and friends if I’m not careful. I love our ministry–but it can completely consume my life sometimes. Well,…most of the time, if I’m honest.”
Behind his Prada glasses, I could see his eyes were already shrink-wrapped in tears.
“Tell me about it.” he said. “God has blessed us so much this year, it’s been phenomenal. But just this week, my 16-year-old son asked me if he could be home-schooled so that he could take these trips with me. I was excited, so I asked him if he felt God was calling him to missions. You know what he told me? He said, ‘I don’t know…I just want to be with you.’”
His voice cracked. “What do you do with that?”
The conversation that followed was worth more to me than gold. As we talked, I found my mind wandering back to Proverbs: “He that troubles his own house will inherit wind.” (11:29) I began to recount men and women I’ve known in ministry that have lost or sacrificed spouses and children to build a ‘kingdom’. Instead of inheriting an Abrahamic blessing of a godly family, they’ve inherited wind.
At one particular ministry I served in I travelled a lot. A LOT. Which left my wife home alone with our 3-year-old and newborn sons. I was busy ‘building the Kingdom’, in and out of cities, living out of a suitcase, and racking up frequent flyer miles. Things began to be tough at home, so I invited Heather and the boys to come to Dallas for a few days while I was working, thinking we could at least be together in the evenings after work.
While driving through traffic one night, our oldest son caught a glimpse of a Holiday Inn out of the car window.
“Look, Mama!”, he exclaimed, “I see Daddy’s house!”
My heart stopped.
One day soon after, it was announced that I would have a new ‘boss’. Preparations were begun, speculations were made about who it just might be, and we were all buzzing with hopes for a new vision for our ministry areas. I’ll never forget when our director introduced him to us and to the board of trustees.
“He’s a fantastic servant of God,” he announced. “He’s served in ministry all across our state. He’s a workaholic, and a great man of God you can be proud of.”
My stomach turned. And it still turns as I write this today. The resounding lesson? Don't sacrifice your family on the altar of 'ministry'.
Or 'job'.
Or 'football'.
Or whatever your altar is.
(to be continued…)
