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This morning I have the unique opportunity to preach the exact message that I most need to hear. This morning I’m preaching to myself, and here is the question I must answer. When it comes to communing with my God, my Savior and my Creator, why is it that my heart strays, and why do my affections wander?

After much painful consideration, here is what I’ve seen (in the form of three main points which stack on top of each other). I don’t delight in God as I should or give Him the attention He deserves because I don’t recognize what’s at stake. I don’t recognize what’s at stake because I spend too much time on the sidelines. I spend too much time on the sidelines because I often confuse my present life in the world with my future life in heaven. Now, let’s explore these one at a time.

I. I don’t recognize what’s at stake, or put another way, I don’t realize the peril that faces me every day.

The apostle Paul tells us often that the Christian life is a battle. In Ephesisans 6 he says that if we don’t daily put on the full armor of God, we won’t be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. And if we don’t habitually stand against the wiles of the devil, then our faith is useless. And if our faith is useless, then we won’t attain to eternal life. Therefore, when I am tempted not read the Word and not to come to God in prayer, I am being tempted to throw aside the full armor of God. That’s big. The stakes couldn’t be any higher.

For example, let’s consider Christ and the apostles in their last moments together before Christ was crucified. It was late at night, they had taken their meal and they were tired. After calling Peter and James and John to Himself, Jesus tells them in Matthew 26:38, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me.” Well, they didn’t watch for long. While Christ was on His face pleading, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me, nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will,” his disciples were fast asleep, heedless to the growing evil and unaware of the approaching enemy. Christ asked them three times to watch and pray, and all three times, while He prayed (to the point of sweating blood), they slept. “Could you not watch one hour?” Jesus asks them in Mark 14:38. No they couldn’t, but Jesus could. Why? Wasn’t He just as tired as they were? He was, but Jesus knew what was at stake. His disciples had forgotten. Jesus was equipping for a night of battle. His disciples were equipping for a night of rest.

Likewise, if I was more aware of what’s at stake when it’s time for me to meet with the Lord, my desires would fall quickly into place. If my options are, meet with the Lord and live, or, do not meet with Him and perish, I know what my desire would be. My failures in this matter do not stem for ignorance, but rather neglect. I fail to remind myself, just like the disciples before me. They knew something was afoot when Christ took them to the garden. He had just told them, “I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom” (v. 29). In verse 31, He warned them that they would all fall away, and that He would be stricken. After Peter’s ill-founded claim of allegiance, Christ predicted that he would deny him that very night. The disciples were warned of the risk, but they forgot or overlooked it. They were waylaid by the appearance of peace and safety, and so am I. Peter’s compromise cost him his allegiance to Christ. Why should I expect my own compromises to yield anything less? Let he who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall (I Corinthians 10:12).

With that said, let me emphasize that my personal failures, while placing my own soul in jeopardy, do not jeopardize God’s ultimate victory. God’s purposes will come to pass with or without me. To illustrate, let’s consider briefly the story of Esther and Mordecai. Esther was a young Jewish woman who was also the wife of a powerful foreign king. The king had taken her as a wife for her stunning beauty, knowing nothing of her ethnic identity. Esther’s uncle, Mordecai, also a Jew, was a devout man of God who staunchly refused to bow and pay homage to the king’s steward, a wicked man named Haman. Haman hated Mordecai for his resolve and so convinced the king to issue a decree to destroy all the Jews in his kingdom. Mordecai quickly sent word to Esther, urging that she plead with the king to relent from his planned genocide. Esther replied that no one, not even her, could approach the king unbidden without forfeiting their life (unless he raised his scepter and bid them approach). Mordecai’s response to Esther is what I’m focusing on here, so let’s read it now in Esther 4:14:

For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?

Mordecai’s theology was exactly right. God is not hamstrung by the failures of His people. His purposes will come to pass one way or another. Therefore, when we falter, we do not harm God, we harm ourselves, forfeiting blessing and incurring God’s chastening (or worse). What did Mordecai warn Esther? Deliverance will come either way, but if you will not intervene, then you and your house will perish. Esther saw his wisdom and replied boldly, “I will go to the king,” and “if I perish, I perish.” And notice that once Esther knew what was at stake, she immediately went into prayer and fasting. The heart that truly knows what’s at stake is a heart whose focus and affections will be rightly placed.

II. I’m spending too much time on the sidelines.

I believe that one of the main reasons I forget what’s at stake each morning is because I’m spending too much time on the sidelines, not in the game.

For example, when I was in high school, I was the only guy on the football team who got to play offense and defense. I never came out of the game, and you know what, focus wasn’t a problem for me, and neither was preparation. The nature of athletic competition requires total concentration. It was literally beyond my ability, in those game time moments, to think about anything else, because the task at hand required my full and undivided attention. On the basketball court, however, I was not so well off, at least as a sophomore. I spent a lot of time on the bench, and my mind wandered far and wide. Whenever I did get into the game, how often I had to ask the guy I was subbing for who he was guarding. I was supposed to know that. Wasn’t I watching the game? Wasn’t I paying attention? Not always. Too often I was thinking, “I’d rather be doing something else.” Does that sound familiar? The mind in the game is engaged by default, but the mind on the sidelines is often distracted.

When Christ prayed in Gethsemane, He was warring against the spirits of darkness, wrestling to drink the painful cup appointed Him. I don’t get the impression that He was having to slap himself in the face to stay awake, and I don’t think He was struggling to stay focused in prayer. Does anyone really think that Jesus’ mind could have been wandering at that moment, like mine is so prone to do when I commune with God? Is there any chance Jesus was thinking, “I think I’ll go fishing tomorrow,” or, “maybe it’s time I bought some new sandals” or, whatever! Is there any chance Jesus’ heart was straying? None. Christ was in the game. All His energies were required of Him.