You Don’t Have to Do it the Same Way as Others
Those of us in ministry receive our fair share of criticism. It comes with the territory. Some of it may be deserved, and a lot of it is not. In those moments, I remind myself that even Jesus was criticized—and He never did anything wrong!
There is one statement, though, that irks me. Every time.
“If I were you …”
To most people, it doesn’t sound like criticism, and I know most people don’t say it with a critical spirit. And you probably think I’m being petty, but those four words are fingernails on a chalkboard to me.
I know when it started. Several years ago, I stepped in to assist a church as their interim pastor. Great church. Great people. But one person in the church was constantly trying to tell me what to do. Advice is good. I welcome advice, especially in a new setting, but it became clear after a few months that this individual didn’t think I could fulfill my role without him telling me how to do it. It seemed like a constant barrage of statements that began, “If I were you …”
Let me tell you how you should do this. This is the way I would do it; therefore, this is the best way.
We should wisely listen to these words from employers, trainers, or those with more experience than us. But even then, it’s not always the best advice.
Take Abebe Bikila, a marathon runner in the 1960 Summer Olympics. He wasn’t part of the initial Olympic team from Ethiopia, but when another runner was injured playing football, Abeb was called in as his replacement for the marathon. He arrived in Rome without the proper running shoes, and there were no shoes to fit him. It’s not that he didn’t try, but none suited him. So Abebe chose to run the Olympic marathon the way he had run back home in Ethiopia.
Barefoot.
At home he was a part of the palace guard for Emperor Haile Selassie, but in his spare time he’d go running barefoot. It was what he was used to. It had served him well running at home; it would have to do in Rome. I wonder if his coach tried to dissuade him. “Abebe, if I were you, I’d get some shoes. If I were you, I’d get the same equipment as the other runners.”
Abebe choose to do what worked best for him. By so doing, he won the race and set a world record.
I can hear King Saul telling David how to fight a giant. When David made it clear he would step into the valley and face the giant, Saul sought to “help” him.
“Saul had his own military clothes put on David. He put a bronze helmet on David’s head and had him put on armor. David strapped his sword on over the military clothes and tried to walk, but he was not used to them. ‘I can’t walk in these,’ David said to Saul, ‘I’m not used to them.’ So David took them off” (1 Sam. 17:38-39).
I find it interesting that King Saul was willing to tell someone else how to fight a giant, but he didn’t bother to fight the giant himself. Go figure. Even the 11th century B.C. had their armchair quarterbacks.
David was confident to do the work with the way he was used to working—with the way he was equipped. So he picked up his sling, killed a giant, and became an instant hero among the people.
God has placed His calling on your life. All of us are His ministers—whether we’re pastoring a congregation, raising four kids, or stocking shelves. As His children, we are to serve Him wherever we find ourselves. And in those roles, we should use what God has equipped us with to do His work.
Go ahead and get advice. Listen to others. “Without guidance, a people will fall, but with many counselors there is deliverance” (Prov. 11:14). That’s all well and good, but in the end, you don’t have to do it exactly like others. If someone comes to you and says, “If I were you …” listen politely, but in the end, do what you see God leading you to do. He called you. He equipped you. So be the person God has led you to be.
Run barefoot and enjoy the rush of serving God just as you are.
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