My life has never matched my expectations. Never. Sometimes life exceeds my expectations, other times it falls short; more often life does something unusual, unexpected, unpredictable, something that renders my expectations absurd. I often find myself living within a world of expectations—the expectations of family, pastors, neighbors and the surrounding culture. The most damning expectations, however, come from deep within, goading me, judging me, criticizing me for falling short.
Expectations in ministry and life often arise from two distracting energies: worry and fantasy. Anxious expectations are grounded in the fear of failure. They are nurtured by the belief that our accomplishments determine our value and worth. This is the message in our secular culture, and this is frequently the driving force within most Christians. Some voice inside of us tells us that faithful people are successful. Deep down we believe if we pray, follow the Ten Commandments and work hard, God will grant us a successful life. When our lives fail to match our expectations, we get anxious, work harder, worry more and eventually God moves to the margin of our lives.
Expectations are also built out of fantasy. The spiritual life is hard. There are few tangible rewards. It’s much more pleasurable to dream of social justice, to talk of serving the poor, than to actually do it. In Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, an elderly monk, a wise man named Father Zossima, converses with a wealthy woman. The woman is in anguish about the existence of God. The wise elder tells her only by acts of love will she be able to know God. “Try to love your neighbors, love them actively and unceasingly. And as you learn to love them more and more, you will be more and more convinced of the existence of God and of the immortality of your own soul.”
At first Zossima’s words comfort the woman. She confesses she often imagines giving away her wealth in order to live a life of poverty and service to the poor. She tells the father that this image often brings her tears of joy. But then, as she entertains the fantasy of a life of Christian service, she worries the people she would serve would be unappreciative of her sacrifice and efforts. She realizes she would be unable to tolerate ingratitude. “I want to be praised and paid for love with love.” And so her dream of serving others dies and she continues to wonder if God exists.
How do we live with the great disappointment of Christian living? How do we continue to serve when our lives don’t match our expectations? What do we do when our efforts, our commitment to Jesus, our prayers and spiritual yearnings don’t pay off? During the nine months that I directed the college prayer service, I began to read the Gospels—paying special attention to the disciples’ experience. I began to feel the confusion, helplessness, frustration, anxiety, fear and even ambivalence the disciples often experienced. For the disciples Jesus was often a bewildering disappointment. He acted in ways that seemed completely unproductive compared to the disciples’ expectations. In the final interaction between Jesus and his followers (Acts 1) you can sense their disappointment. Still expecting Jesus to overthrow the Roman oppressors, the disciples ask, “Is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Jesus responds, “It is not for you to know.” He ascends, and the disciples depart, still unclear of what the future will bring.
Again and again the disciples are forced to give up their control and expectations, and remain in a state of spiritual poverty. To enter into spiritual poverty is to keep from seeking to possess or control God. Spiritual poverty is the willingness to be empty, to allow our expectations of God to dissipate. Like those who followed Jesus, it’s a willingness to be helpless, confused, anxious and wanting. It’s a willingness to enter the void, the uncertainty that so many people, particularly the poor, live with every day. It’s a willingness to allow God to be God and me to be me. It’s only in this empty and vulnerable state that we become available to the God who lives in the present moment, the God who lives in our immediate relationships and the God who lives within the small acts of love that we are asked to undertake.
Taken from The Gift of Hard Things by Mark Yaconelli. ©2016 by Mark Yaconelli. Used by permission of InterVarsity Press, P.O. Box 1400, Downers Grove IL 60515-1426.
You can purchase “The Gift of Hard Things” by Mark Yaconelli here.
More on Christian Living:
https://www.convergemedia.org/its-ok-to-fail-at-being-christian-16284/
https://www.convergemedia.org/christian-life-isnt-worth-living-5708/
