Lord Willing
On Zoom this morning with a dear friend and a member of our church, he asked me about my sabbatical. I outlined some of my day trips with the family, highlights from the time, and especially the blessing it was to spend extra time with Adriana and the kids. At one point, we talked about the next sabbatical, and I said, “If I’m still the pastor of Tremont in 7 years, I’ll be ancient. I’ll be 47 years old—all my hair grey.” He was taken aback, commenting that he never thought about me not being the pastor at TTBC. And then I made it clear that there’s no where else I ‘d rather serve Jesus, and that I fully intend on standing in the pulpit at the Temple till my legs don’t work. But I explained, quoting James, that we all need to hold onto our plans a bit more loosely. We need to be the kind of people who say, “Lord willing.”
‘Lord willing’ is what Peter should have said to Jesus before denying him. Later on, along the shores of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus in resurrection glory finds Peter and the boys suited up for fishing—he was dressed for his former vocation. But Jesus calls him again to be a fisher of men, and he ends up preaching so powerfully at Pentecost, that the foundation of the church is laid. What Peter seems to lack so often early on—perhaps the lesson he delivers to us most powerfully by his life and through his lessons shared in his letters, is the need for humility. To recognize that our lives are not our own. That we are not guaranteed a life of ease—that more likely than not, we walk through some valleys that are hard to mention without it getting caught in our throat. That at times we will fail to honor Jesus. We will just fail in general. But in the end, we will know that strange elixir of tears and joy, because God actually used it all to make us holy.
‘Lord willing’ is a declaration amid the sons of this world that cries out, “I am not my own. God will have his way with me. And though I’m often fearful about the future, God can be trusted.” As a pastor in New England for about 12 years, I know more than a handful of men who I met as pastors who no longer serve as pastors. It’s not the thing that pastors are eager to talk about when we get together. This past Thursday, I ran into a pastor from Medford in a Starbucks and I looked him in the eye and asked him how he was doing. He shared that things were well, and that he’s 14 years into the church that he had planted. He mentioned that it’s something, pastoring that long in New England, and that so many others who were there when he began have departed. I told him how encouraging it was to hear a pastor say that that things are going so well, and I relayed the same from my end. I walked away from that conversation deeply grateful for the work of God in my friend, in me, in our church, in my family, and in so many others. And you know something, like Peter, we continue to plough for the Lord not because we’re stronger, more gritty, more wise, or more patient. We get to serve the Lord in this special way because the Lord wills it. And that’s it. And that’s all.
And so, this is a meandering invitation to a life marked by “Lord willings.” If you say it enough, you will annoy your friends. Maybe your husband will look at your funny. Saying that out loud may not make you popular in your building in the Seaport. But knowing and living, “Lord willing” is really the best life there is. It’s at least a life of leaning towards trusting God with our future. And it’s a far better option than trusting ourselves.
