“I’m going to burst into tears if I hear ‘it isn’t good enough’ one more time.”
I was standing on a fallen tree at the edge of the jungle, playing a team-building game called Battlefield, waiting my turn to try and switch places without falling off. It was one of the elements some of my squad mates and I (the ‘Jungle Crew’) had been asked to set up for the 50 participants in La Gran Comision 2016. We had spent the previous week in varying states of confusion about how to accomplish this. Instructions had changed, elements had changed, materials had changed, timeline had been moved up then moved up again, and my crew members were constantly getting pulled away to complete other tasks.
We had tried to be organized about our work, realistic about what we could complete, and methodical about using our time well to do the most we could. Yet, it felt like everything we planned had to be re-planned, and every time we thought something was done, it needed to redone. In fact, I had been out in the jungle, in the dark, the night before fixing some knots on our low ropes element at the last minute. Now on the morning of truth, when we were actually participating with La Gran Comission and trying to enjoy ourselves, I had just overheard the second comment about an element that wasn’t built as expected.
“I’m going to burst into tears if I hear ‘it isn’t good enough’ one more time.”
I didn’t end up crying though. We actually got so many compliments from everyone by the end of the morning; they had really enjoyed themselves. It was really great to hear, especially since we were really proud of what we’d built. None of us had any experience constructing a low ropes element or building a trustfall platform, or string a spider web to pass teammates through. We were covered in mosquito bites, sore and exhausted, but we had done it. We hadn’t done it efficiently, but we had done it.
A few days later I was reading A Praying Life, and the author Paul Miller was reflecting on an odd characteristic of Jesus. When Satan is tempting him after 40 days of prayer and fasting isn’t the desert, he asks Jesus to turn the stones around him into bread. Makes sense, he’s really hungry and he can easily using his power to do so. But he doesn’t.
Jesus rejects efficiency. Why?
The gospels are filled with examples of Jesus doing this time and again. He could have easily chosen to heal massive amounts of people. But he doesn’t. He rejects efficiency and chooses love. He chooses to see the people he interacts with, to assure them that he knows them. Jesus knew He would be separated from His Father in order to overcome death, but it wasn’t a quick death. It was physically brutal, drawn out, and humiliating.
Why? Because Jesus always chooses love over efficiency.
On the cross, our Savior bore the full shame and penalty of our sins so we would never have to endure that. He lovingly took our place. Love over efficiency every time.
Something clicked into place after I read this – I wish I had read it two weeks earlier! My Jungle Crew had tried to be efficient, we had focused only on our task and completing it well. No wonder we were frustrated and caught ourselves grumbling often. Our joy was tied into acceptance of our finished product, tied to pleasing man. We would never find full joy that way, full joy only comes from pleasing God and walking in Jesus’ footsteps. In choosing love over efficiency. If my crew had focused on spending time together and getting to know one another as our primary focus of the week, the work would have been so much more enjoyable.
Reject efficiency. Choose love.
