In one telling of the myth, Prometheus attempts revenge on Zeus by aiding human revolt in three ways. First, he erases each person's knowledge of the day of his or her death. Up until then, humans, according to Greek lore, were born knowing the day they would die, a built-in sense of limitation. Then, having removed their sense of finiteness, Prometheus filled their heads with dreams larger than what they could achieve. Finally, to complete his mischief, he gave them fire, the power, so it seemed, to achieve these dreams.
It's also a modern tale. We can lose our sense of mortality or limitation. We have been raised with the lie that we can be anything and achieve anything we desire. With the power to broadcast our message, our self—in a video, a tweet, a picture, or a blog—we can build our brand, enlarge our platform, and amplify our voice. Like creatures in the Promethean myth, we have illusions of limitless possibilities, ambitions of greatness, and the fire of our own giftedness in our hands.
There is a certain irony in being asked to write about how to determine the "size of our footprint"—the scale of our influence on the world—and how to decide which opportunities to say yes or no to. How I responded would itself be a test if I had anything to say! As I struggled with whether or not to accept the challenge, I could not shake the conviction—shaped, undoubtedly, by my own ongoing wrestling over these questions—that we must look deeper than tips and strategies for "stewarding our influence." We must face our fallenness.
3 Confessions
First, we must confess the lure of the platform. The more time we spend on a platform, the more we seek out greater platforms. Leaders tend to dismiss this as a temptation because the speaking opportunity / book deal / interview / TV show is a "platform for the gospel," not for our own vanity. But we are easily fooled.
The Jesus of the Gospels tended not to capitalize on platform opportunities. After performing a miracle, he often warned the healed to not tell anyone except the proper officials to validate their new state of ceremonial cleanness. If Jesus had our PR strategists, he would have relocated his ministry hub from the Galilean countryside to a proper city, like Jerusalem or even Rome. Jesus seemed more interested in settings that were personal than settings that afforded the widest reach.
When Jesus said that if he was lifted up he would draw all people to him, he was speaking about being crucified, not being on the conference circuit. He set his face toward the cross, a place of sacrifice, not a platform to pad his influence. Even the empty tomb was witnessed not by Caesar but two fearful, grieving women—people low on the strategic influencers list but dearly loved by our Lord himself.
One other note: over time, the platform becomes part of the person; the message is absorbed into the medium.
We may tell ourselves that this opportunity is simply a platform, that it won't really change who we are or the way we proclaim the gospel, but eventually our environments shape our habits, and our habits order our loves. Keep putting yourself in certain places (whether inspirational conferences, argumentative blogs, or narcissistic social media) and you will be led to love the wrong things or to love the right things wrongly.
Second, we must confess we tend to love our own gift wrongly. From Augustine to Dante, Medieval Christianity saw sin as disordered love. Our gift—for leadership or speaking or teaching or singing—is a good thing; it comes from a good Father. Our gift was meant to help us be a light that shines like stars against the dark sky.
Yet stars can become black holes. NASA says a black hole is a place in space where gravity pulls so much that even light cannot get out. A star has turned inward to the point that it ceases to shine. This happens when too much matter is squeezed into too little space.
When we make decisions based on getting more attention for our gifts, we over-invest meaning into our gift. We attempt to squeeze the ultimate into the finite.
When we over-invest meaning or significance into our gift, we attempt to squeeze the ultimate into the finite. We begin to make decisions based on whether it will get our gift more attention, or what will make our gift flourish. We are dissatisfied with our church because we aren't sure if this little work is worthy of our grand gift and high calling. These are signs that we've turned our good gift into a god, making it the orienting center of our life, the organizing force for our decisions. When we do, we are no longer able to shine with the glory of God. We become dying stars.
Finally, we must confess the limitations of our life. Let me put it bluntly: we cannot do it all. When Moses—the greatest prophet of the Old Testament—prayed in Psalm 90 that God would teach us to number our days, he was praying for an awareness of our limits. How far Moses had come from the young man who thought he could break the bonds of injustice one taskmaster at a time! He had finally realized what every leader must learn: we are finite.
There are things we cannot do, things beyond our control. Technology can amplify our influence beyond what we can actually sustain. As the old saying goes, "Just because we can, doesn't mean we should." We carry this treasure, after all, in jars of clay. There are hints of glory even in our aspirations. But for now, we must learn to number our days and pray, as Moses did in the Psalm, that God will establish the work of our hands.
The Right Community
Our hearts have an enormous capacity to deceive us; our vanity can fly beneath the radar. We need to invite others into the process, but it is crucial that we invite the right people. 1 Kings recounts how Rehoboam sought the advice of his father's counselors—men who advised Solomon, the wisest man on earth!—and then solicited input from his peers. He decided to go with the advice of the younger, angrier men, and the nation was torn in two. You can be teachable and still be wrong because you've listened to the wrong teachers.
I've learned the hard way to process the opportunities in my life with people who know me well, who love me and want to see me flourish, and who are willing to tell me no. All three of those qualities must be present.
Here's what it looks like for me. I have circles that widen as the opportunity increases in scope. I talk through every opportunity with my wife. When something involves, travel, the circle widens to include my senior pastor, Brady Boyd. When I considered becoming a post-graduate researcher at Durham University in England, I knew it would involve several trips over the first year. Brady encouraged me to do it but asked me not to accept any other ministry travel during a six-month time frame. I had already submitted myself to him before he gave any counsel—and this turned out to be very wise counsel.
When an opportunity is more partnership-oriented and carries the potential to be long-lasting, the circle widens again to include my close friends and often my parents.
Questions that Guide Me
Having a clean heart and the right people around you goes a long way toward discerning which opportunities to seize and which to release. But in addition, a few questions have been helpful. These are wonderful to discuss with trusted community.
1. Is this the right work for this season? I was a sophomore in college when I was invited to join a travelling worship band and play at large youth events around the country. I had come to America from Malaysia with dreams of "raising up worshipers in Spirit and in truth"—this had to be a fulfillment of that call!
"Why don't you be the kind of team member now that you'd like to have one day?"
My parents, still living in Malaysia at the time, gently tried to redirect my excitement. "Remember what this season is for," my dad said. "This is the time to finish your studies and be diligent in it." I didn't like it, but he was right.
The Teacher in Ecclesiastes reminds us that the task must fit the time in order for it not to be totally futile. There are good things that don't fit the season we are in, and we must carefully discern that.
2. Am I being co-opted into someone else's cause? I was once invited on a trip to a war-torn country with a group of high-profile "leaders and influencers." Flattered by the invitation, I booked my ticket and was ready to network for the kingdom. But the more I discovered about the trip, the more I realized they wanted us to come back and be a voice for a particular cause. I'm not against causes. In fact, I think there are many causes worth lending my voice to. But I have learned to be leery of people who are trying to co-opt me into their cause without bothering to discover my calling and sense of vocation.
3. Am I making the most of today? When I first began to identify the call on my life to be a pastor and made the shift from worship ministry to being in a primary pastor role, I went to my senior pastor about it. He was encouraging and affirming of the call but suggested I take some time to develop. He offered me the chance to start a Sunday evening service at our church. Because a few details of his proposal didn't match my ideals, I almost turned him down. Like many young leaders, I wasn't going to "settle" for anything less than my dreams, or what we're tempted to call "God's best for me."
But wisdom prevailed. Once again, it came through my dad. He asked me if I thought I was going to leave and plant a church immediately. I replied that I might in a few years. Then he said the words I'll never forget: "So why don't you be the kind of team member now that you'd like to have one day?"
Sometimes we get so focused on our ambitions, our angling for opportunities in the future, that we can forget to be faithful in the moment, faithful with each moment.
There it is. How do we weigh opportunities to enlarge our ministry boundaries? Confess the lure of the platform, the easily distorted love of your gift, and the limitations of your life. Surround yourself with people who know you, who love you, and who are willing to tell you no. Reflect on what task fits this season, on whether your vocational identity is being co-opted for someone else's cause, and on how you can be faithful with the most precious thing you've been given: today.
Glenn Packiam is pastor of New Life Downtown in Colorado Springs, Colorado.
