"making the best use of the time . . . be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." Ephesians 5:16-20"Making the best use of the time," - what does this look like? Where should my thoughts and energies go right now, today? I believe it looks like getting to know God and delighting in him. "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever" (Westminster Catechism). Guess what? Today is part of forever, and I can do that right now because "His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence" 2 Peter 1:3.
This phrase, "making the best," means to "buy up, rescue from loss, or improve" the use of time. It is a metaphor taken from the merchants and traders of the ancient Near East, who aggressively pursued the best deals when they would buy, sell, or trade" (p. 19 in Shopping for Time by Carolyn Mahaney and daughters).When I returned home from work today, I knew there was only about an hour of good daylight left. It was a beautiful day, reaching a high of 64 degrees! This is a rare treat in February, that cannot be tucked away and used later. In fact, the temperature is forecasted to fall more than 20 degrees from Friday to Saturday. So how do I "make the best" of that hour? I ask my sister to go on a walk with me, because just being outdoors is precious time I don't want to lose. And I am doubly blessed by the sun and conversational presence of my sister.
If you want to glorify God through godly ambition, prepare for difficulties. . . . Difficulties strip down and violate our comforts, keeping us rooted in what really matters. . . . I think we as Westerners could use a big dose of faith that comes from the risk of dangerous gospel assignments. But in looking for the big risk, we can also overlook the little risks, and the faith that comes from accepting them. Sometimes the ministry we walk right past each Sunday or the neighbors we wave to at a distance are the very risks where gospel ambitions lays claim to us. . . .
Piper has this to say:
Find the hard stuff, get satisfied in Jesus, find him sufficiently motivating, and enjoy the fellowship of his sufferings. Have you ever heard anybody say, "While walking on the primrose path of sunshine I discovered the deepest and most lasting fellowship with Jesus"? Never. . . . Always and without exception - and I have never heard anybody gainsay this - human beings say, "I met him most, I went deepest with him, I enjoyed him, I saw more of him on my dark road, on my hard road." And so why would we not embrace commanded hard roads like evangelism or anything that will stress you?
That's in-your-face biblical logic for us all. Nothing mortifies the craving for comfort more quickly than embracing a hard road. . . . Let me ask you: what Spirit-constrained risk is God calling you to take? . . .
Gospel ambitions can be audacious because they stake out some unorthodox assumptions. Paul is saying, "Even though I have gifts and responsibilities, I'm not too strategic or important to be uprooted for the sake of the gospel." As he spoke to the Ephesian elders, he made it clear that he prized the gospel above his reputation. That's why he didn't shrink back from declaring "the whole counsel of God" (Acts 20:27).
Paul also talks about how he prizes the gospel even more than friendships. What makes this especially poignant is that it obviously wasn't easy for him. Paul was deeply relational. He wasn't just circulating through the body of Christ unaccountable, unattached. The Ephesian elders were his buddies, his mates. He'd lived with them and served them with tears. As Paul's ship sails away, you can imagine the elders saying, "The gospel just took the best we've got." That's pretty audacious. But God understands. He sent out his best as well, in the person of Jesus Christ. . . .
Risk is nothing to be ignored. It must be accounted for and acknowledged. But while you spend some time studying the reality of all the risks staring your ambition square in the eyes, don't lose sight of the most important thing. Risk for risk's sake is reckless. God isn't calling you to that. But he's calling you to great risk for the gospel. So strive for a faith where the gospel looms largest in your vision. Strive for joy that find its greatest fulfillment in the expansion of the gospel. . . .
From time to time opportunities for extraordinary risk come to our lives. Are you prepared to see those opportunities and respond to them with godly ambition? But don't wait for the extraordinary - the Christian life is inherently risky every day, if we care to take it seriously. It will risk our comfort, our agendas, our downtime, our nest eggs, and our reputations, in big ways and small.
Whatever that risk is, are you resolved to pursue Christ? Do you prize the glorious truth of his righteous life, his death in our place, and his resurrection and return? Are you determined to, like Christ, pursue downward mobility?This refreshes my vision for embracing a hard and humbling road for the sake of the gospel. I want to place myself where I know God has called me to work out my salvation with fear and trembling (Phil. 2:12) and proclaim the glorious hope of the gospel to those around me through my actions, words, and heart attitude. And by the grace of God, I want to not only place myself where I know I will be required to grow but also fully embrace and engage with his work in me.
Ambition rescues us from misplaced security. . . . So God began a divine routine: he would give Paul direction but withhold the outcome. If Paul had a bumper sticker, it would read, "Going, not knowing." . . . He gives Paul enough answers to stir his ambition but never enough to mute his faith. . . . God constrains Paul to go but withholds what will happen. Paul has an ambition and is going forward, but he doesn't foresee the outcome. His only certainty is that it's risky. . . . (pp. 176-177).
The Christian life is a kind of mysterious suspense, where we're acting on godly ambition without knowing the result. Like Paul, we're "going to Jerusalem, constrained by the Spirit, not knowing what will happen." . . . Risks and uncertainty are daily reminders of how much greater God is than we are. We take risks; God does not. God is not "going" (because he's already there), nor is he "not knowing" (since he knows all things). God is all-powerful, controlling all things. Amazing, isn't it? . . .
When God "constrains" us by his Spirit to do something, he doesn't fill in all the blanks. We must trust him, just like Paul trusted him. Risk exists because we can't control events and we don't know what's going to happen. In other words, when we don't know the future, we find out whom we really trust.
We're called not to control the future, but to trust God for it.
Do you feel called in a direction but are uncertain about what will happen? God's design in that is to drive you to dependence upon him. Have you noticed how your desperation for God increases with the uncertainty in your life? The new job, the new child, that new ministry - all of a sudden we're desperate for God. We're starved, needy, ravished by a hunger to hear. God delights to put us in this position because it postures us to depend on him and to exercise faith toward him. It's part of how he rescues us from misplaced security.
Risk always leads us to experience God in a deeper way. This is by design. Risk rescues us from misplaced security by anchoring us in the eternal (pp. 179-180).
