The
harvest in my garden can be easily quantified—a bushel of squash, two pints of
strawberries, one quart of honey. But can all harvests be numerically measured?
A while back my bank conducted a telephone survey consisting of fifteen multiple-choice
questions. When the caller hung up, though, I was left with an uneasy feeling—several
questions had no fitting answer and no questions were open-ended. Why wasn't I
given the latitude to talk about other issues? Probably because my words couldn't
be reduced to a graph line.
Focusing on numerical measurements can be misleading. One day while I was idly taking notes in a seminary class, one of my classmates asked the professor: "Will we have to know this for the test?" What a great question! A “No" would give my wandering thoughts more freedom. But my normally placid professor exploded: "What are you guys doing here?! Do you think anyone will care what grade you made in this class?! Do you think a nominating committee will ask for your transcript?! What they want to know is whether these truths are transforming your life and ministry." What a novel thought—study to learn something! Though I had mastered the educational assessment game, how much was I truly learning? That day sparked a new attitude toward learning—I would focus less on grade point average and more on developing the knowledge and skills to serve God for a lifetime.
Similarly, a few years ago an enthused publisher expressed interest in reprinting my book, Remodeling the Family. As I was completing several months of revisions, and dreaming about how many copies would be printed, the editor called, informing me that ZERO copies would be printed—the company had changed its mind. I was dejected. Why would God lure me down this dead end road? As I gazed at my "wasted" investment, I spied a cluster of fruit hidden behind the leaves of my disappointment. This project was my first extensive writing in several years, reawakening my calling to communicate God's truth through writing—which eventually led to this blog, Captive Thinking. Furthermore, the re-writing reminded me of major themes in my life, rekindling a desire to spread those truths. I was reminded (again!) that the harvest in my life can't be measured in bushels or ounces, or even the number of books sold but in how God was working in me: "The fruit of righteousness will be peace and quietness and confidence forever. Though hail flattens the forest, how blest you will be." (Is.32). Though God flattened my hopes, I could still be at peace, confident that He still wanted to bless and use me.
