All In
Whidbey Island is a short drive and brief ferry ride north of Seattle. It is also sort of holy ground for our family, having owned a cabin there years ago. So we were very excited to spend a week’s vacation in July at a friend’s beach house in the same general area.
Anne and I found a great rhythm in that stunningly beautiful place staring at the Olympic Mountains. We read and ran, went kayaking and paddle boarding, hiked and beach walked while sharing space with a plethora of deer, rabbits and bald eagles in the area. And then there were the osprey.
An osprey is sometimes called...a seahawk. So now you know how the Seattle NFL football team received its name, but I digress. Osprey are large, beautiful birds of prey that can look like a bald eagle until you are close enough to see the spotted underbelly, and their slightly smaller size.
I sat on our deck and watched as a drama of nature unfolded repeatedly. An osprey would glide about thirty or forty feet up in the air over the water, watching with razor-sharp eyes. Circle, circle, look down at the water for fish, circle, circle, check it all out. This could go on for 20 minutes or more. Then suddenly the bird would point its beak straight down, pump its wings a few times, then fold them tight to its body and do an absolute kamikaze nose-dive, feet first. Olympic diving champions cannot hold a candle to an osprey. Plummeting straight down 30-40 feet, falling like a rock, and hitting the water like a kid doing a cannonball off the high dive, the bird goes all the way under the water. You can’t see it for a few seconds because it is totally submerged, trying to grab its lunch. An osprey may miss several times, but it just keeps trying until it has a fish in its talons. On every attempt, the bird holds absolutely NOTHING back. Total commitment. All-in.
I’m not a person who goes around looking for sermon illustrations or new analogies for faith, but this one was just too obvious. I sat and looked at the low tide, the shimmering layers of the Olympics and asked myself– am I all-in? 100%? I thought about friendships, family, marriage, faith, and finally ministry. I’m a pastor. And a follower of Jesus. Am I all-in, am I giving the Lord my most and best? Am I risking and extending myself into uncomfortable realms in order to follow? Or do I tend to just circle a lot, and perhaps enter the water by dipping in a toe rather than folding my wings and plunging?
When we talk about faith and ministry today, the conversation often turns towards balance. If someone gets too spiritual, too committed, or seems too literal about following Jesus, we wonder if their life is unhealthy. It’s why we’ve heard so much in recent years about establishing guardrails and boundaries. Upcoming generations of ministry workers are constantly asked about their self-care. Now, don’t get me wrong, I think for many decades ministry balance was out of whack and needed attention to bring it back to center. But I wonder if we’ve pushed the pendulum too far the other way. Conversation about sacrifice or costly discipleship seems mostly a thing of the past. But since Jesus spent quite a bit of time on it (followers are to deny themselves and take up their crosses and follow, whoever loses their life for Jesus and the gospel actually saves it, whoever puts their hand to the plow cannot look back, etc.)…it seems to be worth some reflection time.
This week I stumbled on an article by Richard Burnett from a talk he gave at the Theology Matters conference last spring. Richard spent time on a story I hadn’t heard much about from the 1930s, when the winds of Hitler and the Nazis were beginning to blow in Germany. Karl Barth and Dietrich Bonhoeffer were among those who worried that the Christians of Germany were ill-prepared for the difficulties that loomed. In the midst of the intense work trying to get the Church ready, Bonhoeffer suddenly slipped away to London and served two small congregations of German refugees. His 18-month absence at such a key time was hugely noticed.
In the midst of Bonhoeffer’s London time, which he described as a personally necessary “going into the wilderness,” he corresponded with Barth, who was something of a mentor to him. Barth pulled no punches whatsoever in questioning why he was gone and urging him to return to Germany. “I do not consider your retreat to England as anything but a necessary personal interlude,” Barth wrote. “I can honestly not tell you anything but “Hurry back to your post in Berlin!” In the ensuing conversation, Barth essentially told Bonhoeffer that in the present moment, personal necessities or weariness could not count as much as the dire threat to the Church.
You may or may not agree with Barth’s “tough love” talk in that fraught moment, but my point is that we so rarely hear such things today. Nothing seems as important as establishing boundaries and caring for self. Is it true that without healthy self-care, we don’t have anything to give out? Of course. But it is also true that following Jesus, as a person or a leader, is a costly endeavor. And that at various points, authentic faith involves taking risks and making sacrifices and enduring discomfort. It’s hard to ignore Jesus’ statements about followers holding nothing back. We are to love God with ALL of our heart, soul, mind and strength.
All-in doesn’t mean taking risks just for the sake of risk, but it does mean saying “yes” when Jesus calls us to go, serve, or witness, including in situations that may be difficult. My fear is that all of our preoccupation with balance and guardrails insulates us from hearing that call. Or encourages us to put a toe in the water instead of folding our wings and taking the plunge. Comfort and caution, or all-in…where do you find yourself?
Peace of Christ,
Dan Baumgartner
Dan Baumgartner is the senior pastor at The Covein Santa Rosa CA and currently serves on The Fellowship Community Board.
These are the expressed views of Dan Baumgartner and not necessarily broader views of The Fellowship Community.