Achiever or Receiver

I’ve been in ministry long enough that I think I’ve taken every assessment there is to take. I know my strengths, weaknesses, tendencies, and blind spots… although, if I see them, are they really blind spots?

One thing I consistently test high on is being an “Achiever.” And that’s not necessarily a good thing. It’s not about accomplishments—it’s about the need to check boxes, measure up, and even be patted on the back. While that might do wonders in the realm of productivity and advancement, it’s almost antithetical to living and walking in grace.

I think everyone in ministry has just a little bit of this—either within them or cast upon them:

• How many are running?
• What’s your latest series?
• What’s your vision?

These are genuine questions from people who want to know how you’re doing. But the “how you’re doing” is always about forward motion—momentum, progress made, growth, etc.

Reading through Ephesians 2 this morning, I was struck again by something familiar, yet not always fully appreciated.

Well, that’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?

That God loves us not because we do a good job. That He pours out grace—not because we’ve proven worthy, but because He is good. In fact, God loves us with such a great love that He offers us immeasurable grace—because that’s the only thing we could possibly receive outside of condemnation and judgment.

A few verses later, it describes that we were separated from Christ, alienated from the Commonwealth, strangers to the promise, having no hope and without God.

And yet—despite all these things—we are loved by Him.

What would it mean, pastor and leader, if we truly lived and did ministry under that banner?

I know for me, I theologically believe and preach that kind of love and grace, but my methods and patterns seem to constantly pull me back toward work, approval, and achievement.

Yet, if we were to truly serve the Lord, knowing that it is by grace we have been saved, and relishing the truth that we are loved—even in our unloveliness—I believe that would change everything.

Maybe it would move us from being pastors first to being called and chosen. From employees and associates of the Kingdom to children of the King.

It’s a nuanced shift—but it’s a million-mile difference.

I hope you can find the same joy in this revelation that I am discovering. I know the only way for me to truly grasp this reality is to make my devotional life more intentional and set apart. My worship must become more engaged and free. And my prayer life needs to go deeper and become more intimate.

Not boxes to check.
Not achievements to claim.
But a relationship to enjoy—with the deep gratitude that God would love a sinner such as me.