Aslan leaped again. A mad chase began. Round and round the hilltop he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautifully velveted paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing heap of fur and arms and legs. It was such a romp as no one has ever had, except in Narnia.
--C.S. Lewis in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe
"Aquinas, in his Summa divided goodness into those things that are (1) virtuous, (2) useful, or (3) pleasant. The idea that there are only three kinds of good is a radical and practical simplification for us. It implies that there are really only three reasons why anyone would ever do anything-three questions to ask: (1) Is it virtuous, i.e. morally right? (2) Is it a practical necessity-like blowing the leaves out of our gutters this time of the year? (3) Is it fun? It's this latter category that goes begging under the pressure of time.
This is not a plea for indolence; it's rather a call to "take heed to ourselves," as Paul would say. It's the only way to save ourselves so we can save others.
No one in the world can be available at all times to all people. We can't take on every task and respond to every need. Need, as such, does not constitute a call, no matter what we've been told. Sometimes we can't be available.
We take ourselves much too seriously. No monk, chained to his desk or flagellating himself in his cell, is more driven. We drive ourselves because we feel we must always be on tap, always be on the job, otherwise we're not being faithful to our task. But that's a prescription for ruin.
I run into pastors all the time who believe they're in a crisis of faith because they seem to have no love for God and for his people and can't understand their feelings. I take one look in their eyes and see great weariness. I know they don't need exhortations to more devotion, more Bible study and prayer. They need to go fishing.
It's amazing how much Charles Haddon Spurgeon got done over the span of his life. He preached thousands of sermons at the Metropolitan Tabernacle and wrote hundreds of books. Yet Spurgeon took off every summer, went to the beach and lay in the sun. When he returned to his church in the fall he was full of energy and enthusiasm and his ministry continues to this day.
Somewhere I came across the following quotation. I don't recall the author...
It is as much a command of God that we rest and relax as that we do not commit adultery. Yet sincere and godly people who would not think of lying or stealing or dishonesty, let alone murder or immorality or blasphemy, habitually and regularly violate this divine provision. They are to be found grim-lipped and devout, continually pushing themselves beyond their human limits, meanwhile quoting to themselves and others various sacred imprecations like "I'm not going to rust out, I'm going to burn out for God."
I actually heard a pastor say that one day: "I don't take vacations; I'd rather burn out than rust out for God." I sat up and stared in amazement. Burn out or rust out? Are those the only options? Isn't there a way to pace ourselves so that we do neither?
Apparently Jesus thought so. When people got to be too many and the pressure got to be too much he headed for the hills. As for me, I pick up my fly rod and go fishing."
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