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I’m starting this blog post standing in the terminal of the Orlando-Sanford International Airport as I wait to board the flight that will take me back home.

Back to the city I love.

To the church I love.

To the people I love

As it’s a late flight, I’ll probably end this post sometime later in that place, more than likely holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee sitting at my own desk in my own house.

Bella will be curled up in her dog bed on the floor next to me and I … will … breathe and reflect on what God deposited in me over the last two and a half days at my first Exponential Conference.

But the number one thing I’m taking away from my time with 5,500 passionate church leaders and followers of Jesus is that there is more. Every time I come to a gathering like this, I sense it: that unrelenting burden for everything that God has for me, the church I lead, and the city I love.

And yet, at the same time that I that I’m trying to swallow that lump in my throat that brings tears to my eyes, I can’t help but feel completely content in what God has already given me.

It’s a wild place to be and I think it’s the place we were made for. Life and love seem to happen in the middle of where we are and where we aren’t. Of what we did and what we’ll do. Of who we are and who we’re becoming.

[Tweet “Life and love seem to happen in the middle of where we are and where we aren’t. Of what we did and what we’ll do. Of who we are and who we’re becoming.”]

It’s hard to be in the middle. I felt that difficulty standing in the middle of the crowd singing at the top of our lungs to the closing song and knowing that God was pleased with me where I was and yet pulling me to where I wasn’t. Not necessarily geographically (we’re not going anywhere) as much as relationally. Wanting to lead a movement that reflects its city means never being done until that happens. It means that a lot of my time as a leader of an amazing family of Jesus followers is spent in the middle of wanting more and needing less.

I am 100% satisfied in Jesus and 100% stirred by Jesus. I feel content and discontent. Somewhat relaxed but never quite comfortable.

As if I needed any reminders about how difficult the middle can be, God allowed me to sit in the middle seat on the return flight (thankfully between 2 great people, but still). Then He used a broken fuel pump that caused us to sit in the plane almost twice as long as expected to teach me that He’ll keep me in the middle as long as it takes to finish the work.

And then, when we finally took off (in the same plane that 30 minutes earlier had a broken fuel pump – now that’ll grow your faith!), God met me in the middle and taught me something that I bet you need to know, too.

Right there on Allegiant Flight 2138 in Row 24 and smack dab in the middle of seat A and seat C, He told me, “You may be in the middle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t on the move.”

[Tweet “You may be in the middle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t on the move.”]

Sure the middle is uncomfortable and hard and frustrating and cramped. It’s all of that and more. But it isn’t stuck.

God moves us while we’re in the middle, and that’s something we never have to wrestle with.

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[et_pb_column type=”4_4″][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text”]If you’re from anywhere near Charlotte, then you’re aware that it’s become quite the epicenter of “shocking” news about Elevation Church and its pastor, Steven Furtick.  In fact, it’s become quite trendy to look into every single thing Furtick and Elevation Church have done, are doing, or ever will do, especially if your name is Stuart Watson and you work at WCNC as the lead investigative reporter.  In case you’ve missed out on Watson’s “thorn in the side” reports, you can access most of them on the WCNC website.  The latest one, published yesterday, revealed the methods behind how Elevation managed to baptize a couple thousand people over 2 weekends and seems to imply that there is some kind of corruption behind the scenes that would make innocent baptisms somewhat less innocent.  

Most of it started back in October of 2013 when the news broke of a really big house that Furtick was building, and suddenly social media was filled with defenders and attackers (or, as Elevation loves to call them, haters).  In all honesty, when I read the news about the house, it grieved me deeply and I had wanted to write about it then, but I chose not to because I felt that my approach to the story was skewed because I read about it after spending a long day in the poorest slums of Delhi, India, and so the story of a famous preacher building a house that could hold almost every street kid I had seen that day just didn’t feel good.

But that didn’t warrant a post, especially since I’d love to have a bigger house, too.

Then, Watson aired a story about how Furtick and Elevation were jumping through a bunch of hoops to get his books bought at a discounted rate that could then be sold at retail prices to a congregation big enough to all but ensure 12,000 copies would be sold.  As weird as all of that sounded, I didn’t write about that either, mainly because I’d love to write a book and know that everyone in my church would buy a copy, too.

Of course, it would be a lot less than 12,000 copies.  11,850 less.

But when this story about the baptisms broke, I had to write.  I mean, at some point enough is enough, right?  At some point, someone needs to shed some kind of biblical perspective on all of this silliness, and while I’m not the biggest (or even the best) voice out there to do it, I can’t stay silent anymore.

But what I say may surprise you.

Back in AD 60 or so, the apostle Paul sat under house arrest awaiting trial before Nero.  This was the Nero who later would be suspected of burning Rome on purpose in order to blame Christians just so others would hate the believers more.  Not a nice dude.  In fact, Paul was so aware of Nero’s tendency to persecute and kill followers of Jesus that in the letter he wrote to the Philippians while waiting for his trial, he hoped that – whether he lived or died – he wouldn’t be ashamed for a lack of courage (Philippians 1:20).

But something else was going on while Paul sat waiting to find out his fate.  There were other people preaching the same gospel that Paul preached, only they seemed to be doing it in a very different way than Paul did and with a very different motive than Paul did.  Apparently, Paul had heard about it, and in what could have been the last letter he ever wrote (as far as he knew), he took the time to address the situation.  To paraphrase it, he said some preach with good motives and others with bad, and then he asked a very odd question in Philippians 1:18: “But what does it matter?”  How would you answer that question?  How would I?  Here’s how Paul answered:

The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. (Philippians 1:18)

Of course, we know how Stuart Watson would answer it, but Paul didn’t write to an investigative reporter in the letter to the Philippians.  He wrote to the church.  He wrote to every believer who has jumped on the “burn Elevation to the ground” bandwagon.  I’ve seen enough, and unless we can answer that simple question with the same answer Paul did, we need to forget about Furtick and we need to repent of far more than increased living space and a bump in book sales in order to land on the New York Times Bestseller list.

We need to repent of pride.

Once, Jesus was asked by 2 of his disciples if they could have the best seats in his kingdom (Mark 10:37).  This was right after they told him that they wanted him to do anything they asked him to do.  When I read that, I think of one of Elevation’s core values about acting in audacious faith.  It’s pretty audacious to ask Jesus to sit on his right and left, and when the other 10 disciples found out about it, they got pretty jacked up about it.

Jesus saw an opportunity to teach something about the kingdom, and he took it.  He didn’t throw James and John under the bus for having the courage to ask something that maybe they shouldn’t have asked.  He just told them that their audacious faith was really just an ignorant faith and that they didn’t understand the price that had to be paid to have what they were asking.

But the greater lesson was to the 10 who freaked because they were afraid they might lose the best seats to the 2 who were willing to ask.  He told them about the world’s way of leading and his way.  He talked about letting others go first, about serving and dying.  Of laying our lives down so others could be raised to life.

He called them to repent of the pride that made them try to protect something that wasn’t even theirs.

So often, the loudest critics are the proudest people.  It sounds so good to talk about how Elevation shouldn’t brand themselves over the gospel until we realize that we’re just the 10 disciples who are mad that we didn’t create the brand first.

Not too long ago, I thought The Gathering would be the next Elevation.  I had dreams of Furtick calling me and telling me that I’d done such a good job getting The Gathering started that they would love to incorporate it into the Elevation family as the Albemarle campus.  It wasn’t necessarily a bad dream, and my heart (I thought) was in the right place.  But today – a little over 2 years removed from those thoughts – I couldn’t be happier that God stuck us in a coffee shop instead.  There, hidden in a room that could realistically only hold a hundred people or so, I started to realize how much my dream was, well, about me.

I wanted our little church to grow bigger because it would validate me, not only as a good pastor, but as a great church planter.  I wanted people to come because it’s easier to write a compelling annual report when the bars go up from left to right instead of staying flat (or worse, going down!).  I wanted people to be saved because saved people talk about the fantastic church where they heard about Jesus (and the fantastic preacher who preached there!).

But something happened in the box.  God started to kill me by reminding me why Jesus died.  To bring strangers into the family.  To bring enemies together as one.  To breathe life into dead bones.  Remembering all of that gave our church the solid foundation that we needed before moving into our new location with more space and more seats, and now that there’s less of me, there’s more room for people who desperately need Jesus.

[Tweet “I’d like to thank @StevenFurtick for leading with the kind of bold faith that encouraged a couple thousand people to make a public demonstration of a personal commitment to follow Jesus.”]

While I’ll probably never meet him and he’ll probably never read this, I’d like to thank Steven Furtick for leading with the kind of bold faith that encouraged a couple thousand people to make a public demonstration of a personal commitment to follow Jesus.  Your passion for preaching Jesus encourages me, and I’m not the judge of your heart.  If given the same circumstances that you find yourself in, would I build a house as big as yours?  Maybe not.  Would I push my new book from the pulpit the same way you (and many, many other megachurch pastors) have?  I’m not sure. “But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached.“

And as the number of people being baptized would suggest, you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that.[/et_pb_text][/et_pb_column]
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A couple Saturdays ago I went down to Hinson Lake in Rockingham, North Carolina, and ran around it 21 times.  At 1.52 miles per lap, that comes to a total of 31.96, which is just above a 50k, the common distance for an ultra marathon.  So, I ran an ultra and that makes me an ultra marathoner. Yay.  It also gave me a lot of time to learn a few things that can help church planters and other people crazy enough to take on big dreams.

The official results listed me at 20 laps, but it’s all good since I know what I did and confirmed it on each lap with the scorers and my Garmin.

LESSON 1: The bigger the goal, the longer the training.

I learned this lesson from my baby sister, Mary, who decided to run her first 5k the same time I ran my first 5k a handful of years ago.  I had followed a 9-week training program called “Couch To 5k” and when I told her the week before the race that I was running it, she said she’d run it with me even though she hadn’t trained at all.  The result? We both finished.  The point?  That only works on shorter distances, and only if you don’t want to do the best you can.

Can you imagine the result if Mary – or anyone else – tried to pull that off in a half marathon, a full marathon, or an ultra?  Disaster, and more than likely an injury and failure.  Bigger races demand lengthier training, and it’s the same with goals in life, too.  You just can’t pull off big dreams without advanced planning. Big goals are like big planes: they both need long runways to get off the ground, so plan, prepare, and then enjoy the payoff at the right time.

LESSON 2: The bigger the goal, the slower you go.

I would never want to say that pace doesn’t matter, but when you’re running an ultra, pace doesn’t really matter.  In fact, when I told most people that I’d run 32 miles, very few of them asked me how long it took.  Most of them responded with, “You ran how far???”

Short distances can be covered quickly, but trying to run an ultra at 5k pace will kill you and ensure that you don’t run much more than a 5k.  So slow down.  Stop being in such a hurry and take the time to enjoy the journey.  Sometimes at The Gathering where I pastor, I  feel the pressure that we should be moving faster, but the truth is that we’re 2 years old, and like any 2 year old who is trying to learn how to walk, we’re going to fall down a lot and stagger like a drunken sailor.  But thankfully, we’re also cute and people take lots of pictures.  It’s all part of the journey, and when you have a long view, it’s easier to stay in for the long haul.  Impatient people don’t run ultras, and if you’ve got big dreams, impatience will kill them faster than any other obstacle you face.

LESSON 3: Small things get bigger over the long run.

I’ve run a number of short races like 5ks and 8ks and I’ve never once stopped in the middle of one of them to pull my shoe off and remove a pebble, stick or rock.  Why not?  Because I can endure just about anything for 20-30 minutes.  But if you don’t give your attention to the little things that start to rub at mile 3 in an ultra, then chances are pretty good that you’ve got a blister, or chaffing, or worse by mile 15.

I heard about a study that was done once in order to determine what separated the good CEOs from the really great ones, and the number one difference maker was how quickly (or slowly) they dealt with personnel problems.  As a pastor, I am in a fraternity of other leaders who typically deal way too slowly with issues that only become bigger the longer they’re ignored.  So it’s much better to take the time to stop what you’re doing and deal with the issue.  If you feel like you don’t have the time to do that, re-read Lesson 2 and slow down. Don’t sacrifice the long term vision for some short term peace.  Chaffing is real and it hurts, both physically and spiritually, so if you feel some resistance, take the time to heal. Paying attention to the little things in a timely manner can keep them from growing into bigger things down the road.

LESSON 4: You can be tired and finish, but you can’t be stopped and finish.

I was tired when I finished, and many times was tired before I finished.  And as much as others will make you feel like what you’re trying to do should look easy, that’s a lie.  Big goals demand big efforts, and big efforts tire us out.  Period.

If you’ve been working on a goal that’s bigger than you – whether in ministry or business – then you need to understand that the sheer magnitude of the dream is enough to wear you out, and that’s not even taking into account the actual DOING of the dream.  Stop being surprised that you’re tired, and start finding ways to  catch a break here and there so that you can refuel and jump right back in the race.  The key to ultras is a simple statement that I have found is quite common among ultra runners: keep moving forward.  That’s it.  No one expects you to breeze across the finish line looking like a movie star who just stepped out of a salon.  The honor is in the fight, the perseverance, and the flat out, no quit attitude that refuses to stop moving.  The only way to not finish is to stop moving, so don’t stop.  You have more in you than you think, and if you’re a follower of Jesus like I am, then you DEFINITELY have more in you than you think because of His power.

Maybe you’ve run an ultra or accomplished a big goal, too. What lessons have you learned along the way?  Why not share them in the comments so that others can benefit from them, too?