Well, we are [five] months into the year. Throughout the past months we’ve reaffirmed the significance of pacing ourselves and not allowing the tyranny of the urgent to blind us to the value of the important. Well . . . how’s it going? Pause long enough to review and reflect as you answer these questions.

“Grab here, amigo.” I grabbed. “Hold on tight, por favor.” I held on. “When you come back toward the shore and I blow whistle, you pull cord pronto!” Within seconds I was airborne. A loud “whoosh,” a long strong jerk, and I was three hundred feet or so above the picturesque beach at Puerto Vallarta.

Ponder that list. Notice what isn’t included in the top ten: job security, benefits, vacation time, and high salary. Yet most companies still operate as though they are the big four—the only ways to motivate and keep their employees. Ours is a new world. We cannot exist as though it isn’t changing.

While traveling across northern California several years ago, I tuned in a radio talk show where the host had just conducted a poll of his listeners regarding job satisfaction. Some sort of questionnaire had been mailed to folks within a broad radius of several cities along the San Francisco peninsula and East Bay region. The show’s host had gathered and compiled the answers and was, that day, announcing the results.

Centuries ago a little boy found himself in the midst of a vast crowd of people—larger than any group he’d ever seen. He had come out of curiosity, having heard that a man named Jesus was nearby.

Overwhelming odds can make cowards of us all. I remember the first time I felt overwhelmed regarding ministry in a vast arena. My life had been quiet and manageable. From my birthplace in a south Texas country town, I moved with my family to Houston, where we lived through my high school years. Our home was small and secure. After marriage, a hitch in the corps, and seminary, Cynthia and I became involved in ministries that were like our past . . . small, pleasant, and fulfilling. Our children were small, our lives were relaxed and rather simple, and our scope of God’s work was quite comfortable.

While reading through Mark’s Gospel recently, I was drawn into the scene of chapter 4. You remember, it’s that time Jesus sat down in a little boat by the seashore and talked about a farmer who dropped seeds into the dirt. Same seed, different soil, different results. Four to be exact.

During the Thanksgiving holiday a few years ago, I experienced a moving moment as I watched our younger daughter, Colleen, with her baby, Ashley Alissa, who at that time was a newborn. Colleen had nursed her back to sleep and was holding Ashley ever so tenderly, as only a mother can do. Colleen didn’t see me as I stood in the shadows, thinking . . . reflecting . . . remembering.

Nothing is more refreshing than a servant’s heart and a giving spirit, especially when we see them displayed in a person many would tag as a celebrity. Years ago, my wife and I attended the National Religious Broadcasters convention in Washington, D.C., where one of the main speakers was Colonel James B. Irwin, a former astronaut who was part of the Apollo 15 crew that had made the successful moon walk. He spoke of the thrill connected with leaving this planet and seeing it shrink in size.

Pride wants strokes—lots of them. It loves to get the credit, to be mentioned, to receive glory, to have people ooh and ahh. Ideally, your superiors will be thoughtful people who give you the credit you deserve, but, regrettably, that will not always occur. And your pride will need to be held in check.