No Guarantees

      What would I be willing to sacrifice if I knew the results were guaranteed?

      Would I live on 2,000 calories and work out every day and cycle hard if I knew in one year, I would be lean and fit and fast? I think I would if I was certain about the results – but of course, there is no guarantee. Why sacrifice day after day, workout week after week, if the outcome is uncertain? What if I put myself through that hard work yet all I got out of it was a 10% improvement? Would that be enough?

      Would I get out of bed every morning at 5:00 AM and write for two hours if I knew for a fact that after a year I would be selling a lot of books and changing lives? Would it be worth the discipline and sacrifice? I think it would.

      I ask those questions because I doubt I’ve ever given a supreme effort in my entire life. It’s my nature to pick around the edges, to make incremental efforts, to hold back the best part of myself, until I’m sure of the end result. I’ve always been more afraid of embarrassment and pain than motivated by success. I’d rather finish second with energy left over and my head held high than push for first place knowing failure would be embarrassing and painful. I won’t risk too much; I keep most of myself in reserves. I’m more George B. McClellan than Robert E. Lee.

      When I was in high school, I learned I could keep a B+ average with only minimal effort, so I seldom worked hard enough for an A average. B+ was still better than most of everyone else I knew, and it took no risk to get it. In high school I didn’t yet know about Erwin McManus, but I would’ve agreed with his comments: “We love permission to do the minimum.”

      Yet some things need more than minimal effort if they are to succeed.

      What if I want to run another marathon? (Or, I should say, since I don’t run nowadays, walk a marathon,) Am I willing to put in 20-mile training runs – risking failure and injury – in hopes of finishing 26.2 miles. Without sufficient investment up front and along the way, it’s senseless to attempt the big race.

      How about music? Would I practice my trombone ten hours a week if I knew for sure I’d be a jazz phenom someday? I think so. I hope so. But I haven’t so far.

*  *  *  *  *

      There is a well-known Bible story about a rich young ruler who came to Jesus, looking for eternal life (Matthew 19). He felt justified in his obedience that satisfied all of God’s criteria, but he wanted more. Maybe he was bored with his religious life.

      Jesus told him to: “Sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasures in heaven. Then come, follow me.” It was too much; the man walked away.

      When Jesus offered him adventure, he turned it down. He rejected an opportunity to study with the smartest man and holiest teacher he would ever know. I wonder why?

      I think he turned down Jesus’ request because there was no guarantee attached. Jesus did NOT say, “Follow me and all your dreams will come true.” He just said, “Give your stuff to the poor and follow me,” and left out the part about reward or results. The man walked away because he wanted to follow Jesus without risk. He wanted to change the world without adventure.

      The older I get, the less I want to be like that rich young man. As a believer, shouldn’t I be more willing to take big risks?

      I shouldn’t have to fear failure – it isn’t where my worth comes from. I should be the guy most willing to risk it all on a worthy venture.

*  *  *  *  *

      Monday night, I dreamed over and over all night long about this very essay – one that I originally wrote in 2009. It seemed a bit random. But sixteen years later, the questions I asked myself haven’t changed; maybe my urgency has. As I get older, I’m firmly aware my remaining years are slipping away. Even if I live to one hundred years old (that’s my plan and intention), that means I only have 32% of my life left.

      Tuesday morning I was trying to understand why I dreamed about an old essay and taking changes, until I saw an email offering a sign-up sheet for private trombone lessons with one the world’s premier jazz musicians. I knew what I had to do. It took me twenty seconds of insane courage and embarrassing bravery to sign up, but I did it.

      It isn’t the instructor I’m worried about. It’s me. How will I do? Will I embarrass myself and my friends? That’s the risk. I put my name on the list and closed my laptop before I had a chance to breathe or change my mind.

      Mark Batterson wrote: “I’m at a place in my life where I don’t care about outcomes. I’m focused on inputs.” I want to be more like that nowadays. I don’t want to live out my life, always wondering what might have happened if I’d given it my best. I want to invest in what I sense God calling me to do, and perhaps God will bless it. No guarantees. Take the risk. Just say yes.

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32