Philippians 2:3: “Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves.”
I didn’t plan to write this e-mail (or rather, what’s in it) until about a month and a half ago when I knew it was something I was called to do. I’d rather write something else, in fact. I debated just scrapping what is to follow more than once and going my own route, but that’s not what God wants. It’s slightly more personal than most but, having already written most of what is to follow, I’m as positive as I can be that it’s in God’s will.
I’ve said before that golden calves are tough to destroy, tougher to stop feeding. And I confess that I’ve made this e-mail something to adore more than I would have liked, something to do on Tuesday evenings while American Idol blared in the background (see, I still have my idols) and my Bible wouldn’t open and my hands wouldn’t clasp. I never intentionally write anything that I don’t believe, but I need an overdue lesson in practicing what I preach.
God is the force that allows me to breathe, but sometimes I feel that writing is. I confess that something I love to do is minister and encourage others—fine—without being humble enough to accept identical ministering and encouragement in return, either from other brothers and sisters or from God—not fine. I am nobody’s savior, least of all my own. And I feel I need to reflect on that for a while, maybe even for the remainder of 2010 if not longer, a sabbatical if you will. I often endanger myself at the foot of the cross by being too legalistic, by bringing minor trinkets of my own to the altar—as if they could replace or decorate the most glorious sacrifice in the history of the world.
It should never be about my agenda, which can often be selfish. I want to work in accordance with God’s will, not against it, and right now I’m doing more of the former. My personal walk with my Redeemer currently needs a lot of maintenance, a string of blood-soaked makeovers and grace-saturated melodies. When we put too much on our plate, we often don’t understand at the time that we’re not going to be able to digest it all. A seven-course dinner served on the silver platter of our own ambition means less than a single piece of bread blessed by the hand of God.
Consequently, I’ve also decided that I’m not in a position to continue this without an extended retreat of at least several months. With that being said, as you might have already inferred, I’m suspending Water on Wednesday until further notice. I can guarantee you that, if you’re reading this e-mail right now (and even if you’re not), it has absolutely nothing to do with you. I love all of you dearly and, sometimes, the best thing we can do in the name of love is step aside and point each other to the cross. So that’s what I’ll do, at least for now. I’m not going to lie—I will miss this for a while, but God will have no competition. I will have faith that He will use the absence of this to draw me closer into His presence and His desire for the remainder of my years on this planet. But if He wants me to start this up again, then I will. It’ll be His call, not mine.
But no matter what, this is not the end. Even if I never wrote another tribute to God again, this is not the end. God will still reign forever and we will still be His. When we reach the end of our rope or the aftermath of a difficult situation, it’s easy to think, “It’s all over.” No. No, it’s not all over. It’s all over when you’ve been called to your heavenly home and you are safely in the arms of your Father and you get to delight in Him forever—so, in a way, it will never be over. May God be praised for that.
I’ve had my same Gmail e-mail [mrgraczyk@gmail.com] since 2004—trust me, it won’t be changing if I can help it; I will be more than happy to talk one-on-one with any of you, swap prayer requests, or engage in any other type of fellowship while on this hiatus. Though I am taking a break from writing, it doesn’t change the truth: no matter what, God is still and will always be extraordinarily good.
I am humbled and beyond honored to have been used by God in this way over the past couple of years. But for right now, I need to do more listening than talking. The body of Christ is a circle, not a pyramid, and we’d better not climb anywhere for our own sake but only to see our Lord from a clearer view.
So until next time, remember that we all serve an awesome God. Keep on loving and let God hoist your sails so you can travel across any ocean. Cling to Jesus and all that He offers: His living water, His pure satisfaction. May all of your prayers be heartfelt, may all of your flags be white, and may all of your horizons be beautiful.
Love in Christ,
–Mike
