Redefining Being All-In: Applications from Acts
/“God didn’t call us to complete a checklist for him but to elevate his majesty”
Throughout my life, I’ve noticed a pattern at play that maybe others have witnessed for themselves too. Life starts moving forward, picking up speed, our confidence grows, and right when we think we are on top of it all, we get blindsided by a new challenge. We take a few steps back, question our decisions, the direction in our lives, and keep moving forward. This pattern of life isn’t always easy to engage with, but it’s necessary for growth and spiritual maturity. For me, this season of isolation has challenged me to consider how I spend my time, and what it should mean for me to be “all-in” for God in this next season of life.
As humans, our instinct when conflict and change arises is to stay in our comfort zone. We don’t want to engage with difficult decisions, and we certainly aren’t excited to take big risks that might permanently position things we love behind us. Yet, this process of moving on from our past is key to continuing the work God has called us to (Phl 3). I’ve seen this marker several times in my past. I’ve spent countless hours trying to resist it, but recently in our series on the Acts of the Apostles, I’ve been encouraged to press into the idea of change with open arms.
For context, one of the main characters and writers of the New Testament was the apostle Paul; he was a man who had an upbringing unlike any other, noting his elite education, unmatched zeal, and blameless following of the law. Paul had more reasons to take pride in the things he was doing more than anyone, but how did Paul conclude his resume? “...I count all things but loss” (Phl 3:8). He let it all go. He didn’t even count it. Why? Because Paul had reset his priorities and realized a key fact: God didn’t call us to complete a checklist for him but to elevate his majesty. Instead of overwhelming his identity in his accomplishments, Paul focused only on the name of Jesus. So, I began asking myself what that mindset looks like practically and how I might apply it today.
“I had built my life and future on the shifting sands of identity and insecurities that I had created”
During hardships, Christians can still find hope in Christ and focus on his mission. The world, on the other hand, looks for hope and peace outside of Christ, which just leads to confusion. Turn on the media and within minutes, people see a mixed spectrum that grieves evil, celebrates good or numbs viewers to apathy. For much of our world, the idols they once held such a tight grip on are being washed away under their feet like a house built on sand (Mat 7). As Christians, this is where we are supposed to have the upper hand—to proudly proclaim that we’re standing firm on the rock of Christ. But as I’ve been more honest with myself in this season, I’ve realized that some of my foundation is still sand and that in my flesh, I’m still trying to hold on. It’s humbling to admit. God never set up the process of sanctification to be immediate. Instead, he uses his word to wash away the sand, scrape off the junk, and refine us to be more like him. God challenges us with reality to point us back to his royalty. He is gracious to show us where our feet might slip before we do, so we can get back to his work.
One of my favorite examples of this is in Acts 13 when Paul confronts Elymas the sorcerer. At first glance, it looks like Paul wanted to get rid of the sorcerer as quickly as possible so that the deputy who “desired to hear the word of God” could. But if we think through it, Paul was actually presenting both men the chance to believe and follow God. Blinding the sorcerer was not just some cruel act Paul thought up; instead, it was based on personal experience. So much of Paul’s ministry hinged on his testimony of God using a season of blindness to humble him to repentance (Acts 9). For Paul that meant recognizing how he needed help and direction. So in blinding this man, Paul gave him a chance to see his need for God. The result is found in the midst of darkness where this sorcerer was seeking for someone to lead him by the hand. Paul had successfully taught this man of his need for guidance, a light. The deputy who witnessed understood the picture: that Christ was the light and seeing this doctrine caused him to believe.
How do we respond to seasons of darkness? Do we resist it by crawling around trying to resolve it on our own? Or, are we willing to let go as God leads us through by the light of his word? For me, through our time in Acts, I have been seeing how quick I am to map out the course God has for my life based on my own terms and expectations. For example, before I graduated high school, I told myself I would never live in a big city. Now, I have lived for over six years in two capital cities: Columbus and Kansas City. It was a drastic change that wouldn’t have happened unless God forced me to wrestle through the combined crisis of a breakup, career change, and calling on my heart. I knew that my plans had continuously failed and added up to nothing. I had built my life and future on the shifting sands of identity and insecurities that I had created. God has been faithful to wash them away and replace my foundation with the solid rock of his son as I press towards him. I don’t need God to take away hardships. I just need to be open-handed, remembering he is with me and means it for my good (Gen 50:20).
Stay at home orders, closed social settings, and social distancing has created a season in life where we have more visibility than normal to remove distractions and focus on what truly matters. I’ve followed Jesus as the author and finisher of my life for over ten years now, which may sound like a proud statement, but I assure you it presents its own set of struggles. Having been around for so long, it’s easy to land on one of two extremes. I am either doing everything, or I am content to say I have already done everything. It’s probably no surprise that both extremes are flawed but finding the balance is difficult. When God is in control of your life, you have to decide each day how you’ll make your life count for his glory. Paul’s example of this has helped me tremendously to rest in the simplicity of my new identity.
“Jesus had no problem spending hours alone to refocus his heart towards God’s will”
In trying to find the balance between extremes, I was challenged when I noticed how Paul managed his time. My schedule didn’t look anything like his, and I wasn’t sure if I was doing something wrong or needed to add more things to my list. This is probably a natural response. When Christians hear about “dedication,” they often think of verses like Acts 2:46 where the early church is always meeting to do all the things God has called them to do. When we match that up with all the traveling, events, drama, and victories, we see through the book and quickly get the impression that the church was always on the move—a locomotive charging full-steam ahead 24/7. It’s true, all of it. They were always moving forward towards God’s glory, but they also recognized something I didn’t. Pursuing God’s mission with urgency and zeal didn’t mean doing it as fast or as efficiently as possible. The early church didn’t seem so concerned with speed; instead, they were concerned with obedience.
Our society is all about maximizing efficiency and getting the most bang for our buck. That mindset can be incredibly dangerous. In 1 Samuel 15, King Saul struggles with this same thing. His focus is so tuned in on the physical acts he is doing for God, that the prophet Samuel says he missed the point entirely. God’s interest is not in all the ministry we can do for him, but the obedient posture of our hearts. Paul never wrote out a to-do list for us of all the things he did for God on a given day. Instead, he simply went to the synagogues, where he would preach, read, and speak to those around him (Acts 13:5, 14-15). I like to think of synagogues in Paul’s day like coffee shops for us. Coffee shops aren’t just a place to sip on a hot cup of dirt. They are comfortable environments to build friendships, to buy goods, or to study. Notice though that if you stick around long enough, you’ll see it isn’t always packed with people. There are brief moments when you can hardly find a seat and other times when you have the whole place to yourself. So, picture yourself in Paul’s shoes. His strategy with Barnabas was to pick a city, find a coffee shop, and be there all day. He wasn’t running all over the city trying to juggle tons of ministry commitments. He didn’t leave when times got slow or hard. He removed distractions. He was flexible. Paul had bought his field, and he was content to be “all-in” by just being there.
Sometimes as Christians, it’s easy to associate the phrase “all-in” as having a schedule packed full of all things Jesus. That’s why I’ve been so thankful for Paul’s example here. Showing up to my field and being there all day means being okay with boring or slow moments when it feels like nothing is happening. Jesus had no problem spending hours alone to refocus his heart towards God’s will. Certainly, the apostle who commanded the church to be instant and pray without ceasing would have been confronted with those same tasks while sitting in an empty synagogue. If Paul wanted to see God give the increase in his field, the solution was not to mindlessly fill his schedule with physical things but to pray for the spiritual realities at play. And even when the people were excited to listen to their preaching, Paul had no problem waiting until the next week on the sabbath to fulfill their request and preach again (Acts 13:44). If we don’t place margin between the ministries we are involved in, when are we going to pray? How can we cry out to God for the lost souls we know when we hardly have time to think?
My temptation has always been to equate boldness and zeal with over-commitment. But that approach has always backfired, and Paul’s life demonstrates why. Commitment to God’s mission should stir in us a burden for souls, not bondage to a legalistic set of tasks. As a wise wizard once said, “It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” Sure I’m able to do a lot of things, but does that mean I should? My hands have never been able to build a thing for God worthy of his name, so why am I so quick to run back to building my own works-based tower of babel for God, disguised as “ministry”? Paul had the pedigree to prove he could have done almost anything, but he chose to pick just one field and go all-in.
“Let’s go all-in by joyfully buying the field God has already given us”
As this season of quarantine slowly lifts, I’m encouraged to let the word of God wash away my expectations, to show up with my whole heart each day, to find more ways to depend on the Lord instead of the works of my own hands, and to pray for him to do the real work. Instead of focusing on ourselves and what we can do for God when life opens up again, let’s be like Paul: slow to speak, quick to hear, often to pray, willing to be still, obedient to show up, and die daily.
Paul kept the mission simple. He preached when he could, and he prayed when he couldn’t. Let’s not get distracted making the mission about our works. Let’s go all-in by joyfully buying the field God has already given us by boldly preaching and praying in faith as God moves in the hearts and lives of his creation.
Tobias Reichert is a discipler and small group leader in Midtown Baptist Temple’s College and Young Adults ministry. He is an active part of Friends of Internationals and serves on the communication and safety teams.