by Charles R. Swindoll
Now here's a rhyme
I'll never understand:
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?
I've been to London
to look at the queen.
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there?
I frightened a
little mouse under the chair.
That little pussy-cat had the chance of her lifetime. All of London
stretched out before her. Dozens of famous, time-worn scenes to drink
in. Westminster Abbey. Trafalgar Square. The unsurpassable British
Museum. She could have scurried up an old lamppost and watched the
changing of the guards. Or slipped in the side entrance and enjoyed an
evening with the London Philharmonic.
Not this cat! She
was such a mouseaholic that she couldn't break with
monotonous routine even when she was on vacation.
That mouseaholic has a lot to say to all workaholics . . . and
churchaholics, for that matter. Overcommitted, pushed, in a hurry,
grim-faced, and determined, we plow through our responsibilities like
train under a full head of steam. What we lack in enthusiasm,
we make up for in diligence.
We've been programmed to think that fatigue is next to godliness. That
the more exhausted we are (and look!), the more spiritual we are and
the more we earn God's smile of approval. We bury all thoughts of
enjoying life . . . for we all know that committed, truly committed,
Christians are those who work, work, work. Preferably, with great
intensity. As a result, we have become a generation of people who
worship our work, who work at our play, and who play at our worship.
Hold it! Who wrote that rule? Why have we bought that philosophy? What
gave someone the right to declare such a statement?
I challenge you
to support it from the Scriptures. Or to go back into
life (and lifestyle) of Jesus Christ and find a trace of
corroborating evidence that He embraced such a theory. Some will be
surprised to learn there is not one reference in the New Testament
saying (or even implying) that Jesus intensely worked and labored in
occupation to the
point of emotional exhaustion. No, but there are
times when we are told He deliberately took a break. He got
away from the demands of the public and enjoyed periods of relaxation
with His disciples. I'm not saying He rambled through His ministry in
an aimless, halfhearted fashion. Not at all! But neither did He come
anywhere near an ulcer. Never once do we find Him in a frenzy.
His was a life
of beautiful balance. He accomplished everything the
sent Him to do. Everything. And He did it without ignoring
essential times of leisure. If that
is the way He lived, then it makes
good sense for
you and me to live that way, too.
Excerpted from Stress Fractures, copyright © 1990 by Charles
R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide.