Unholy Hyperactivity

One time I found myself lost in the woods alone. It was late at night and a friend and I were going fishing. We had left the car parked on the side of the road and had gone through the woods down to the water’s edge where our boat was tied. The plan was that we would load the boat with the supplies we had brought from the car, then he would take the boat across the lake to a bridge on the other side where I would drive the car, park it and meet him there.

I pushed the boat off, moving it away from the shoreline and turned to go back through the woods to my car. However, as I began to make my way back, it didn’t take long until I became disoriented. The night shadows and muted colors caused every path to look the same. After walking for thirty minutes on a course that I knew should have only taken ten if it were the right one, I began to realize that chances were good that I was lost.

I was a little nervous at first, but told myself that I would eventually come upon the road and the car. An hour later, I knew I was in trouble when I found myself off the path and fighting my way through thick undergrowth, filled with night sounds I didn’t recognize. I had absolutely no idea which direction I needed to head anymore. Instinctively I began to walk faster . . . and faster . . . and faster. After awhile I realized that increasing my speed wasn’t accomplishing anything except to make me tired.

I sat down to rest for a moment, telling myself that I needed to calm down and think this situation through more carefully. As I sat there, I glanced up toward the sky. Above me I saw my answer. It was a power line. I reasoned that the line had to lead somewhere and that I would simply follow it until it led me back to civilization.

That is exactly what I did and my plan worked. After a long walk, the line led me back to a side road, which I then followed to the highway and to my car. It was a scary experience, which to this day has kept me out of the woods alone at night.

It blasphemes one of the most sacred tenets of some evangelicals to suggest that perhaps they need to do less in their lifestyles, not more. Grace is already susceptible enough to the recurring charges of passivity without people being told that they may need less activity in their lives. The “Just Do It Dogma” held by many contemporary Christians ranks right up there with the deity of Christ in terms of importance to them.

The fact remains, however, that religious hyperactivity is a tick that slowly sucks the lifeblood out of our intimacy with God. God didn’t invite you to be His maid, but His bride. Do we serve? Of course, but it always is to be the natural expression of our love for Him. Otherwise, it becomes a barrier to genuine intimacy.

Well meaning Christians often find themselves in a place which can be compared to the man adrift at sea in a life raft. Because he is dying of thirst, he begins to drink the sea water around him. The salt water causes him to become more thirsty and his thirst causes him to drink more sea water. This vicious cycle will ultimately bring death.

Thus is the fate of the Christian who believes that doing more is the remedy for his thirst. Sometimes the answer to our deepest need is met when we understand that the best way to advance may be to retreat, remembering that God’s ways are not our ways. Blase Pascal said, “The sole cause of man’s unhappiness is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room.” It isn’t frenzy, but faith that facilitates intimacy.