“Let me have this power, too,” he exclaimed, “so that when I lay my hands on people, they will receive the Holy Spirit!” But Peter replied, “May your money be destroyed with you for thinking God’s gift can be bought! You can have no part in this, for your heart is not right with God. Repent of your wickedness and pray to the Lord. Perhaps he will forgive your evil thoughts, for I can see that you are full of bitter jealousy and are held captive by sin.” (Acts 8:19-23 NLT)
So John’s disciples came to him and said, “Rabbi, the man you met on the other side of the Jordan River, the one you identified as the Messiah, is also baptizing people. And everybody is going to him instead of coming to us.” John replied, “No one can receive anything unless God gives it from heaven. You yourselves know how plainly I told you, ‘I am not the Messiah. I am only here to prepare the way for him.’ It is the bridegroom who marries the bride, and the bridegroom’s friend is simply glad to stand with him and hear his vows. Therefore, I am filled with joy at his success. He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less.” (John 3:26-30 NLT)
It’s easy for the world’s thinking to seep into the church. Usually it happens slowly and subtly. In Samaria, when the sorcerer tried to buy the gift of God from Peter, it was anything but subtle. With John’s disciples, the jealousy was quieter—“everybody is going to him instead of coming to us”—but John corrected it immediately. God is the One who gives the gifts and the assignments.
A number of years ago we were teaching Bible school classes on the Navajo Nation in northern Arizona. It’s a remote place—about six people per square mile, with a land area a little smaller than West Virginia. You can drive a long way without seeing another soul.
We usually had 10–15 students in our monthly classes. Eventually four of them finished all the requirements and received diplomas, though many others came and were helped by the teaching. One of our students was a retired coal miner. His English was broken, so his son came with him to help him understand the lessons and complete the homework so we could read it.
Dad did great. At graduation he shared his testimony. He lived in a remote village where few people spoke English. Most folks don’t live in town, so the population is hard to count. They gather for community events and church, and on a good Sunday there might be thirty people in the service.
This beautiful man said he had attended the Bible school because of a lifelong dream: to preach the Gospel to the people in his village in their own language. Now he felt he could do it with confidence. That touched my heart. All the long drives, longer days, and freezing mornings suddenly seemed worth it. God loves people, not numbers. That man was going to take the Word to people we could never reach.
A few years later I was talking with the pastor of a fairly large church. We were friends and just swapping stories. I told him this one and said, a little sarcastically, “I guess I’m just the king of out-of-the-way places.” His reply shocked me. With a bit of a harrumph he said, “Don’t say that about yourself! I wouldn’t even go to a place that small. It’s just not worth the trouble.”
And here I thought I was bragging. In that moment I realized we would not be able to work together for long. We were looking at life through very different glasses.
In church world it’s easy to fall into the “big church, big man” mindset that comes straight from the secular world. Like the sorcerer who wanted to buy a gift from Peter, we can look at “important” people with envy and want what they have so we can be important too. That’s envy driven by pride, not the call or the gift of God.
I like John the Baptizer’s approach. He had led a huge revival in Israel. Everyone knew about the wild man in the wilderness and the crowds who went out to hear him. When he heard that Jesus was baptizing increasing numbers, he didn’t get huffy and start looking for a new crusade director. He rejoiced. He thanked God that people were being reached and that Jesus was being magnified. He had done his job; now it was time for Jesus to increase.
Here’s the point:
- Success in ministry—and in the Christian life in general—is simply obedience with excellence. Did I do what He told me, and did I give it my best? If so, I’m good. If not, I’ll repent and try again.
- Somebody else’s apparent success is not a threat; it’s a joy. If Christ is being preached, people are being helped, and God is getting the glory, then I rejoice with them.
- Success doesn’t come from trying to imitate how God uses someone else. If you spend enough time around someone, you’ll pick up a few mannerisms. Thank God for the people He puts in our lives to help and encourage us. Thank God for impartation, but never let it become imitation. Obey God. Use the gifts He gave you and let Him use your personality and style.
- If I look past the one standing in front of me because I’m scanning the horizon for the multitudes, I can’t be trusted with either. Jesus paid the same price for every person. Their value does not depend on where they live, what they look like, or the size of their town.
When I stop trying to disciple people and start trying to draw them, I have left the ministry—or at least forgotten my role. Jesus said He would draw them. He told me to make disciples of the ones He gives me.
