Not Worth My Time

My 2009 Honda guzzles gas like a dehydrated camel.

The low indicator light was flashing so I figured I’d stop to refill on my way home from work. Like any other penny-pincher, I knew of a gas station a mile or so off of my usual route that was significantly cheaper (like 40 cents per gallon cheaper) so I figured it’d be worth the slight detour. I’m a chump for a good deal. 

Unfortunately, I decided to stop at peak rush hour when all of the other bright folks around me determined it was a splendid time to fill up and the line poured across the parking lot. On most other occasions, I’d be slightly annoyed but that beautiful and golden waning sun on a wispy November evening in Minnesota encouraged me to take the moment to slow down and wait it out. Thankfully, the line moved quickly and I was out in a jiffy. 

As I drove away, I reasoned I’d spent an additional 10-15 minutes getting gas at that particular location rather than paying a little bit more on my usual route. I crunched the numbers in my head to determine if the amount of money I’d saved was really worth the time it had taken out of my schedule to do so. Sometimes, I’ll take how much money I saved over the amount of time it took, and compare that to the estimated hourly rate I make during my full time job. 

That’s a little obsessive. You may not monetize your time like that, but I’m guessing you can likely relate to a similar line of thinking. 

I work in technology, and efficiency is often the “key” to success. How do we optimize our schedule to the best of our ability? How do we cut down meetings in order to increase our focus time? How do we increase our team’s velocity (rate of working) without burning them out? Is the effort worth the payoff? Is the climb worth the view? Is the reward worth the grind? Is the juice worth the squeeze?

Basically, is it worth my time?

We really are a funny bunch. We measure and plan for every detail our schedules are willing to squeeze in: 

 Do I want to get coffee with that friend? I don’t know, I’ve got three other people ahead of them I’d rather slot in if I really wanted to take the time out of my schedule.

Do I want to go to my nephew’s piano recital? Sure, my sister-in-law would appreciate it, but little Timmy isn’t going to remember.

Should I work out today? Maybe, but I’d have to fit it in between work and small group. Skipping may give me some time back, but it’s not going to give me my abs back.

Should I go on a walk with Jesus or get some things done? Jesus loves me this I know, and He’ll understand why these errands won’t run themselves. Plus, I can chat with Him on the drive!

Grace isn’t efficient. Deep-filled relationships aren’t efficient. Spiritual growth, more often than not, isn’t efficient. A common follow-up sermonette you may be expecting could sound something like this:

“Slow down, friend! Slow down and spend time with God! It’s not efficient, tightly wound, or spread thin like the world would have you live, but it’s what you need! Is it too much to ask for five to ten minutes of your mind each morning to get into the Word so you can be a light to your spouse, coworkers, neighbors, and/or kids?”

And honestly, it could be a pretty fair assessment. But when Jesus said that His “yoke is easy, and [His] burden is light,” does this seem to jive with the hustle and bustle of busy spirituality we often automate ourselves with? Spiritual disciplines like prayer, meditation, worship, and solitude are beautiful and good, but are they simply meant to replace the “less-spiritual” tasks of daily discipleship amidst work, play, and relationships? When Jesus beckoned us “come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” did He simply mean to exchange our old schedules of greed, lust, envy, and strife so we could instead focus on more important tasks of being holy?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, it makes ME feel guilty when I reflect on how I spend my free time or visualize my “ideal” day, which usually doesn’t consist of Jesus-y things. 

But then He whispers “I love you,” and I’m reminded of His heart towards such an injury-prone sinner such as myself. I’m reminded that Jesus wants my heart, not my efficiency. Not my silly works. Not my holy attempts. Not my white-knuckled disciplines. His only ask is that I forsake all those things and choose Him only. He already covered the rest.

The cross is both one of ultimate efficiency, and at the same time, deep inefficiency. On the one hand, Christ’s work was completely sufficient once and for all, for any and all who would believe in Him. It is fully complete, with no more additions needed (from Him OR from us). Yet on the other hand, we see at the cross the essence of sheer, inefficient grace. Jesus never looked at us and our worn out rags and said, “Mmmmmmmm, yeah. That’s a little too involved. Not worth my time.” Rather, just the opposite. He looks at His own, calling you  “Son” or “Daughter,” will bring the good work in you to completion (Philippians 1:6), and says He’d like to know you deeply for the rest of eternity. Smiling brightly, His heart says He’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Rest knowing that His grace is sufficient and that He made you worth His time.