Chapter One
SURROUNDED BY
MASKED MEN
"What's your biggest problem?"
The question was as surprising as it was direct. I had
just spent more than an hour with a young reporter who,
having concluded the interview and packed away his notes,
was on his way out the door when he wheeled round and
caught me off guard. My biggest problem? I thought frantically.
"Establishing priorities," I blurted out without thinking.
He nodded and left.
The question lingered for the rest of the day. I was
aware that my life was not without problems, and my wife
was probably aware of a number that escaped my attention.
But the biggest one? What was it? I wished I had been given
more time to think before answering. But the more I
thought about it, the more convinced I became that my
knee-jerk answer was probably correct.
I knew I had problems with priorities!
Each day there were things I knew that I had to do-no
question. Then there were things I thought I really ought
to do, plus things that I desperately wanted to do. Added to
that were the things I imagined other people expected me to
do and yet more things that others insisted I do. And so on!
But-and here I consoled myself soulfully-"there aren't
enough hours in the day!"
The result, of course, was that
many things were left undone, and
some were only half done. Sometimes
critical things were missed while I
attended to things of less significance.
I often disappointed others and frustrated
myself.
Each morning I woke up feeling
like the cowboy who rode up to a
saloon, hitched his horse to the rail,
started to pull a bag of oats over the
horse's head, and heard the town
drunk standing nearby say, "Any fool can see you'll never fit
that horse in that bag!"
My horse would not fit my bag.
I had been forced into a situation where the demands
of life exceeded the supply of time. "That's the problem!" I
decided. "If I had more time, I could get everything done."
But then I wondered if that was true. Would it not mean
that having been given more time I would find-or be presented
with-more things to do?
But if more hours in the day would not fix the problem,
what would? It seemed to me that the only possibility
of an answer lay in the way the hours given to me were
being used.
And that's the point when I began to sniff out the banditry
under my roof. Time bandits? That had to be it! I (as
everyone else on the planet) was granted a set number of
hours each day that could be used, abused, invested, or
wasted. I knew that. But some days it seemed as if I was
held hostage by demands and interruptions, crises and trivialities,
diversions and frustrations that surrounded me like
masked men ominously demanding my time and robbing
me of my day.
Bandits! Thieves! Robbers!
I was the pastor of a growing church at that time, and
it seemed that many people were interested in what I did
with my life. Rightly so . well, to a point. One day I was
approached by a group of very fit looking men who said,
"Stuart, we believe your physical fitness is very important,
because if your body quits, your ministry ends. Wouldn't
you agree?" I did! Promptly! "Good," they replied, "we are
all football coaches, and we have worked out an exercise
routine for you that we'd like to do with you each morning.
Physical fitness is a priority!"
Round about the same time, a well-read lady in the
congregation said to me, "Stuart, we understand that the
preacher's job is to listen to what God is saying and then
relate it to his contemporaries. Now, we think you're very
good at listening to what God says in the Bible, but you're
not really in tune with American culture. So we have
enrolled you in a book club because we believe reading and
meditating is a priority. Don't you agree?"
"Oh yes," I replied with conviction and a sinking feeling.
Another kind person told me that he had been reading
about Martin Luther, who had apparently said on one occasion
that he had so many things to do that day that he
could not possibly manage on less than-I think it was-three
hours of prayer. He then added enthusiastically,
"Stuart, you're such an activist, but we wonder if you're
spending enough time in prayer. Prayer is such a priority,
isn't it?"
"Yes," I replied dutifully, overcome with guilt.
On another occasion the parents of a happy, healthy
family said to me, "Stuart, we really appreciate the way you
serve us so faithfully, but we suspect that you might be
neglecting your own family. Are you spending enough time
with them? Remember that if you succeed as a pastor and
fail as a father, your testimony will be ruined. You really
need to spend more time with your own children.
Remember, they are your priority!" I remembered!
And then, would you believe that a dear little lady said
to me, "Stuart, you look exhausted. Are you getting enough
rest and relaxation? Remember that
God worked for six days and then
rested the seventh. If you carry on the
way you're going, you will burn out in
no time. Proper rest is a priority, you
know!"
I knew!
But-and it was a big but-how
could I possibly fit it all in? Maybe I
could run with my kids, take along a
book and read it as I ran with one eye
open, and pray at the same time with the other one shut-oh
yes, and all the time resting!
I was familiar with the well-known "God first, family
second, work third" formula, but I found that while it was
fundamentally sound, it did not always work. I knew, for
instance, that Vince Lombardi, the legendary coach of the
Green Bay Packers, believed in a "trinity of life" that was
made up of "God, family, and the Green Bay Packers."
According to his biographer, "He placed them in that
order." But in reality his family "usually came in third,
unable to compete in his heart and mind with his dual passions
of God and the Packers." I had also read somewhere
about Ray Kroc, the founder of McDonald's. He told a
reporter that his priorities were "God first, family second,
and McDonald's third," but then he added that when he
went into the office, the order was reversed. Apparently
these highly successful men had problems with their priorities,
too. At least I was in good company. I took some comfort
from that, but not much!
When you're surrounded by time bandits, it's good to
have company.
(Continues.)
