"What's wrong with Jesus?" They were on the road as usual, but something was different. He wasn't holding back for stragglers, tousling children's hair. He was out in front. He wasn't gently painting pictures of the kingdom of heaven.

He was scaring them.

"They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid" (Mark 10:32).

The final trip: Jesus is striding toward Jerusalem. Your shame and punishment lie waiting. "I set my face like flint" (Isaiah 50:7). Those following were troubled; but from our vantage point, we see his entire life as just that, a striding for Jerusalem.

We've sensed the utter harmony between his purpose--"to give his life as a ransom for many"--and his footsteps. The rabbi pauses at the tax-collector's booth. Carpenter hands grip the corners of the table. He leans in. "Follow me." See a man living each moment absolutely at one with his mission--"to seek and to save that which was lost."

Trusting a person, not following a plan

"What's wrong with me?" Compared to Jesus, my life is an aimless meandering through a forest of distractions. And it's not for lack of a compelling mission. The mission is clear. My life is for knowing Jesus better through his Word. My time is for bringing honor to him as my "walk" makes him known.

But something gets lost when I try to translate mission to moment. There is a dreadful disconnect between what I know my life is for, and what I do. The choice I make in a given instant is subject to a dizzying array of influences. Such a "still small voice" is my purpose in Christ compared to the "tyranny of urgent things" clamoring outside, and the "desires that battle within" (James 4:1). What mattered most failed to capture my attention.

I've wasted time.

I can develop the perfect time-management system, but I'm not a perfect man. I remain a wretch holding a planner, still crying, "The good I want to do, I don't do."

I spoke on time management to a conference center full of missionaries. After comparing our mission to our moments, uncovering the wounds, I was given "the right word at the proper time." I said to these pastors, as if they didn't know: "We have one who speaks to the Father in our defense--Jesus Christ the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world" (1 John 2:1,2).

It was an unforgettable moment of perfect quiet. A thousand demands ring in all our ears--"do more of this," "be more of that." But it all faded away, leaving one exquisite command, and only one: "Believe the good news." The Spirit led us on the path that runs past Jerusalem. You've been to that awful hill . . . and you've heard the "gardener" whisper, "Mary." Don't forget what you've heard. He has taken your sins away.