It was the perfect commiseration: aching abs, shin splints, and The Old Man and the Sea. I was running to Donald Sutherland’s gravely voice reading Hemingway’s tale of the unrelenting old man who would not be conquered by his intemperate mistress, the sea, or by his own fearful misgivings. I loved the old man for the simple tenacity of his internal monologue. He spoke angrily to his cramped-up hand and rebuked his hunger and fatigue. It was his monologue that made me start listening for my own thoughts, disheveled as they were by my preoccupation with getting enough oxygen. If I don’t make my time, it’s because I ate too much earlier. . . I bet I won’t be ready for the race with these peroneal tendons flaring up. . . Stupid sidewalks in my neighborhood are so uneven, how could anyone go faster on them?
The sharp contrast between me and the old man helped me see how much mental energy can be spent on creating excuses for failure even before failure occurs. We are aware enough of excuses that work backward—-no one ever believes the guy who blames a dropped pop fly on the sun being in his eye. But are we as aware of our tendency to pre-excuse ourselves before the fact, as displayed in my ambling monologue?
Excuse Making and Fear of Failure
This process can become so automatic to our thinking that we become like walking excuses, people who spend their days setting up rickety defenses against possible failure. But the only thing these defenses protect is inactivity. A teenager sees how difficult it is to be any good at the guitar, so he just plays video games instead. A young professional sees how much more demanding management is, so he sticks with his temp position.
While excuse-making is fatal to vocational accomplishments, far more tragic is its effect on the pursuit of obedience to God. Just doing what comes naturally is far easier than laboring to do the unnatural demands of the gospel. We are all too quick to point to reasons why we will fail.
“There is a lion outside! I shall be killed in the streets!”
Do you know to whom the Proverbs attribute this hyperbolic excuse for inactivity? Not the fearful person, but the sluggard (Prov. 22:13; cf. 26:13-16).
“Master, I knew you to be a hard man . . . so I was afraid.”
Do you know what the Master called this servant in response to his fainthearted excuse for inactivity? Not fearful, as the servant had self-identified himself, but “wicked and slothful” (Matt. 25:24-30).
Fear of Failure and Love of Ease
These are strong words, and I don’t particularly like them. It puts a finger right on a tender strand in my nature. I pre-excuse myself because I fear failure; but my fear of failure is often not much more than my love of ease and comfort. We could all say that what we often sense as fear of failure is the subtle desire to take it easy. We have a certain distaste for difficulty.
Consider the anxiety of addressing unhealthy relational patterns in your marriage; it’s much easier to be satisfied with the adequately long periods of cease-fire. Even the pursuit of God in hearty prayer can be an intimidating prospect; far easier to maintain a sporadic, occasional prayer life. In all of these situations, we can be so focused on why things won’t work that we end up protecting our natural distaste for spiritual labor.
The apostle Peter had no room for such intimidation and half-effort in the Christian life, but encouraged active determination (1 Pet. 1:13ff). Likewise, Paul says that Christians run so as to win, not half-heartedly finding reasons why victory is unlikely (1 Cor. 9:24-27). In other words, it’s not our job to find reasons why we won’t be able to obey, but rather to determine that we will.
The Resolve of Another
I am not saying that the Christian life is simple, mind-over-matter determination. Rather, Christians humbly acknowledge we live in an age of incompletion (Phil. 3:12-13) but nevertheless are undaunted in our efforts (Phil. 3:14) because Jesus Christ has already guaranteed our completion (Phil. 3:12, 20-21). And how can Jesus guarantee this? Because he was resolved first.
“I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!” (Luke 12:50)
“Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42).
The tenacity of this young Galilean was far greater than any old man on any sea. I hope one of our privileges in heaven will be to listen back on Jesus’ internal monologue as he faced the waters of God’s wrath. We will celebrate it as the masterpiece of the ages. Imagine how wondrous it will be to hear the private thought life of a man resolved to obey in dependent love the very One who was to plunge him under the seas of death.
And we who are in Christ don’t just imitate that determination. We share in it.
Is there enough evidence for us to believe the Gospels?
In an age of faith deconstruction and skepticism about the Bible’s authority, it’s common to hear claims that the Gospels are unreliable propaganda. And if the Gospels are shown to be historically unreliable, the whole foundation of Christianity begins to crumble.
