Mark Batterson - Playing the Long Game

On December 31st, 1759, Arthur Guinness leased a 4-acre piece of property in Dublin, Ireland. That’s where Guinness built his brewery, which he saw as a form of philanthropy. Guinness beer was less alcoholic than gin; it was more nutritious than self-brewed beer. In fact, nursing mothers were actually given a Guinness after giving birth because it had lots of iron in it, which I am not recommending; I am just relaying. Now, Arthur Guinness used the profits from his business to advance education and healthcare, affordable housing for the poor.

And fun footnote: Guinness actually established the first Sunday school in Ireland. But none of that is the point I’m trying to make. When Arthur Guinness negotiated the lease for that 4-acre piece of property at St. James Gate in Dublin, Ireland, he managed to secure—are you ready for this? —a 9,000-year lease. Wait, what? Like, 9,000 years? Recorded human history is 5,000 years. That might be a Guinness Book of World Records pun intended, and yes, that book is named after the selfsame Guinness family. Question: Who negotiates a 9,000-year lease? And the short answer is someone with long vision, and that’s what I want to talk about this weekend: playing the long game.

In the year 2000, the average attention span was 12 seconds. By 2020, the average attention span had shrunk to 8 seconds, which is shorter than a goldfish. Like, we live in a culture that’s all about 15 minutes of fame; in the kingdom of God, it’s about long obedience in the same direction. We have a little mantra at NCC: dream big, pray hard, think long. Well, welcome to National Community Church; we’re in a series called Dream Factory. I am coming to you from my office this weekend, a little change of pace, a change of place. Hope this message is a change of perspective.

You can meet me in Genesis 37, and we’re going to jump right in. Here we go. When Joseph was 17 years old—okay, let me stop right there. I’m not sure how any of us survived 17. I did some unbelievably unintelligent stuff when I was 17, even life-threatening things. And I’m not making excuses, but the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for consequential thinking, isn’t fully developed until we’re 25 years of age, and some studies suggest—forgive me, guys—that it takes about two years longer for men than for women. And let’s be honest, that might be conservative.

This week, we had a snowstorm in D.C., and it’s nostalgic for me; it reminds me of my Midwestern roots. Where are my Midwesterners in the house? I was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota, lived in Wisconsin during the winter of '79, and spent my teen years in Chicago. Chicago has two seasons, by the way: winter and construction. When I was 17, I remember school was canceled because of snow, and that’s saying something. In D.C., a chance of snow like that shuts everything down—a dusting gets it shut down. It’s got to be a blizzard in the Midwest. But schools were closed, and it was bad.

So I did what 17-year-olds do: we braved the storm. What better time to hit the road and do a little cruising? That’s what we called it. My friends and I piled into my 1985 Dodge Colt, and we’re in a parking lot of a mall, doing donuts. In the Midwest, they used to plow the parking lots, so there would be these huge piles of snow—10, 12, 15 feet high. Somewhere in the recesses of my 17-year-old brain, I wondered if I could drive my car through said snow pile. Every parent of teenagers should get a free standard-issue t-shirt that says, «What were you thinking?» because that’s the question we ask our kids all the time, and the answer was: I wasn’t.

So we’re in the parking lot of this mall; I back up my Dodge Colt. I had a lever: E for economy, P for power. Man, I put that thing in P, pedal to the metal. I hit 35 MPH, and my friends have described it ever after as the greatest explosion of snow they have ever seen. It was a real-life snow globe. You know, if only we had phones to capture it—of course, then my parents could have tracked my location, so I guess we’ll call it even.

Here’s what I discovered: you cannot drive through a snow pile. Somehow, someway, my Dodge Colt ended up on top of the snow pile at a 45-degree angle. I had to crawl out the passenger side, and I will never forget the look on the face of the tow truck driver. If I had to interpret that expression, it was: «What were you thinking? How in the wide world of sports did you get your car on top of that snow pile?» I’ll tell you how: very little consequential thinking. By the way, I was able to drive it home and park it in our garage, but consequential thinking failed me again because snow packed into the front grill, rear bumper, tailpipe, and undercarriage. Like, that snow is going to melt.

I still remember my dad the next morning: two inches of water. «Hey, how did this water get in our garage?» «Dad, I have no idea.» Your sin will find you out. Joseph, at 17 years old—just putting it in context—had not a lot of consequential thinking and, honestly, not a lot of emotional intelligence. And that’s where we pick up the story: Genesis 37, verse number four. It says he was tending the flock with his brothers. Now Israel loved Joseph more than his other sons because Joseph had been born to him in his old age. So he made him a coat of many colors, and when Joseph’s brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word.

Anybody remember early '80s members-only jackets, late '80s bomber jackets, '90s starter jackets? I mean, that’s what Joseph had. The brothers were a little jealous, creating a really interesting family dynamic. So Laura and I have a family systems therapist, and she would have a field day with this family. So many dysfunctional dynamics. You’ve got a father showing favoritism; the net result is sibling rivalry. You’ve got anger issues stemming from jealousy. It’s like the Molotov cocktail of family systems, and it’s about to get worse.

Okay, here are the cliff notes: Joseph has a dream, and in that dream, his brothers bow down to him. Now, Joseph must have missed the class on inside thoughts because you don’t share that dream with your older siblings. Everyone with siblings knows exactly what’s going to happen: you’re going to get a wedgie, a noogie, a Wet Willie, or worse. So fast forward a couple of months: verse 18. Now Joseph’s brothers saw him in the distance, and before he arrived, they plotted to kill him. And don’t miss this little line: «Here comes the dreamer.»

Joseph is betrayed by his brothers, he’s sold into slavery for 13 years, and things go from bad to worse. He is falsely accused of sexual harassment and ends up spending his twenties in an Egyptian dungeon. That is when, and where, and how God flips the script. Now, at 17, very little consequential thinking, very little emotional intelligence and this is not a dig on Joseph, okay? Most of us were probably that way at 17. But if you’re taking notes, I want you to jot this down: longsuffering produces long vision.

Now, I wish there were a shortcut, a cheat code, but in my experience, there’s not. Listen, a little pain and suffering will produce a lot of emotional intelligence. Now, right before we get to this verse, let me set it up so you know it’s 17. I think Joseph is pretty self-absorbed, emotionally and relationally oblivious. How do we know this? He shares the dream with his brothers. By the way, he tattletails on his brothers, so not a whole lot of emotional intelligence.

But I’m going to set up what happens: he ends up in this dungeon. He has a couple of inmates, Chief Baker and Chief Cup Bearer, and they become friends. They have these dreams, and somehow, some way, there’s this tipping point, turning point, and it may seem like a little thing, but it’s a big thing. It’s Genesis 46, and it is underlined in my Bible because it is such a critical moment in scripture.

So here’s what it says: when Joseph saw them the next morning, he noticed that they looked upset. Now the ESV says they looked troubled; BSB says they looked distressed; NIV says they looked dejected; KJV says they looked sad. Any way you slice it, Joseph notices a shift in emotion. Stick with me, and that one act of emotional intelligence saves two nations. We’ll come back to that.

Many years ago, I was speaking at a conference in the UK. It was a gathering of Anglican pastors, and it just so happened I spoke right after the Archbishop of Canterbury. The Archbishop said something I will always remember; I will never forget. He said, «Emotional intelligence is a wonderful adjunct faculty to the gifts of the Spirit.» Now, I kind of dropped the mic—you have to think about it—but what he was saying is this: we need the gifts of the Spirit. There are ministry gifts, there are miraculous gifts, and we need all of the gifts. Listen, the gifts are the difference between the natural and the supernatural; they’re the difference between the best we can do and the best God can do.

So, Lord, activate the gifts of the Spirit at National Community Church in new ways in 2025. But as those gifts are activated, man, tip of the cap to the Archbishop because you have to exercise those gifts with emotional intelligence. Well, what is that? It was around the turn of the 21st century that a psychologist named Daniel Goleman wrote a brilliant book titled Emotional Intelligence. In that book, Goleman argues that IQ accounts for about 20% of career success; the other 80% is EQ or emotional intelligence.

Now, I don’t have time to unpack the whole theory, but the essence of emotional intelligence, sort of the crowning jewel, if you will, is empathy. Now, I want to show you a little chart: three kinds of empathy, and you’ll see it on the screen. Cognitive empathy is putting yourself in someone else’s shoes; emotive empathy is feeling what they feel. It’s Romans 12: weep with those who weep; rejoice with those who rejoice. And then there’s empathetic action, and this is it: caring enough to get involved, to ask questions, to lend a helping hand.

Can I get in our business just a little bit this weekend? The Quakers said, «An enemy is someone whose story you have not yet heard.» That is so true and honestly so convicting. If we could read the secret history of our enemies, said Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, we should find in each man’s life enough sorrow and suffering to disarm all hostility. Well, what does that have to do with Joseph? Very little emotional intelligence at 17, but I will tell you this: 13 years of pain and suffering will cultivate some EQ in your life.

Now I want you to hear me when I say that God is setting you up—God is in the business of strategically positioning us in the right place at the right time. And I want you to know sometimes the right place seems like the wrong place, and the right time seems like the wrong time. The last place Joseph wants to be is in a prison cell with Chief Baker and Chief Cup Bearer, but this is seven degrees to Kevin Bacon. How else is he going to meet them? Because it’s noticing their emotional state and caring about them that all of a sudden makes Joseph the safe person in their life. They have the courage to share the dreams they had, and Joseph is able to interpret those dreams. Long story short, that’s what enables Chief Cup Bearer to get out and start serving Pharaoh again.

Now he forgets about Joseph, and I don’t want to get ahead of ourselves, but Pharaoh’s going to have a dream, and it’s going to jog his memory. That is the divine appointment that this entire story is pointing to. Okay, I want you to hear what I’m about to say: God is going to open doors you have no business walking through. God is going to put you in rooms that you don’t belong in. You’re going to sit at tables with no name tag on yours, and you know what? God is going to give you authority past your credentials. Why? To represent Him, to exercise the spiritual gifts that God has given you with emotional intelligence, to exercise that prophetic imagination. You are here for such a time as this; you are here for such a place as this, and I want you to know today that God is writing a bigger story.

There are so many subplots in this story and most of them are pretty tragic, but there is an over-story. There is a God who is writing a bigger story, a better story, a longer story, but you know what? Sometimes it starts with just one act of emotional intelligence. This week you’re going to encounter someone—a family member, a friend, a colleague, someone that you just bump into on the sidewalk. Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to notice that something’s just a little bit off, and you have a choice to make.

Listen, we all have places to go and things to do—like you can be about your business and just ignore it—but maybe, just maybe, this is the divine appointment that God is setting up. What if at the beginning of the day we said, «Lord, who are you going to bring across my path today?» Like there is somebody who is going to get blessed today. «Lord, who is it that you need to speak through me to them? God, give me a word of encouragement. Give me a prophetic word to speak into that person’s life.» And can I just say this? When I walk around NCC, before or after services, you know what I’m always looking for? Someone who looks a little lost. Why? Because it tells me that it’s probably someone who’s there for the first time.

I want to be aware of those facial expressions; I want to read people’s emotions. Even with our staff, you know, if someone’s just a little off, maybe something’s going on in their personal life that I can step in and be that word of encouragement. So, Lord, who are you going to bring across our path? Who is that person with a dejected look, a sad look, a troubled look? Friends, this is our divine appointment waiting to happen.

Am I saying we’re going to save two nations as a result? I can’t promise that, but you just watch and see what God does. We’re talking about empathy, so the question is: how do you cultivate it? The reality is longsuffering, and I wish there were a shortcut, a cheat code, but I think a little pain and suffering during 13 years is what produced this empathy in Joseph.

Now let’s have a little bit of fun and play a game here and see if you can figure out who this is. I bet you can. In 1832, he ran for the Illinois House of Representatives and lost—didn’t finish second or third either; he finished eighth. Now, the next year, in 1833, he tried his hand at business, but that venture failed. In 1835, the love of his life died from typhoid fever at the age of 22. He was heartbroken. He said, «I am the most miserable man living,» in a letter to a friend. «If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on Earth.»

Well, it’s no wonder that he had a nervous breakdown the next year in 1836. Now he twice ran for Congress—1843, 1848—lost both times. In 1849, he ran for the land office in Illinois and lost his bid for the United States Senate in 1854. It ended with a loss in his attempt to earn the vice presidential nomination in 1856. His failures are infamous, but just as failure is often the result of poorly managed success, listen, success is often the result of well-managed failure. In fact, Winston Churchill said, «Success is going from failure to failure without the loss of enthusiasm.»

Now you know who I’m talking about, don’t you? In 1860, Abraham Lincoln was elected the 16th president of the United States. He delivered some of the most powerful, memorable, and important speeches in the history of this country. He led this nation through a civil war; he secured the necessary votes to free 4 million slaves; he drafted the Emancipation Proclamation. But I don’t think he had the fortitude to do what he did if it wasn’t for the adversity that he overcame—those losses, those failures, even those heartbreaks. Friends, that’s what made him who he was. The strongest convictions are formed in the hottest fires. It’s the crucible of suffering.

It’s long vision that is often the byproduct of that longsuffering. The prophet Malachi called God the Refiner’s Fire. Now, it’s an allusion to the ancient science of metallurgy: precious metals would be melted in a crucible using fire, and the dross—those imperfections, those impurities—would surface. The refiner would purify that precious metal so that it was even more valuable. How? By removing the dross.

Now, how did the refiner know when it was done? Well, it was called the reflection test. When the refiner could see his image in that precious metal, he knew it had been purified. Friends, I believe God is refining me; God is refining you. There’s nothing easy about it, but God is forming the image of Christ in each and every one of us. I want to remind us today that the goal of accomplishing a dream is not the accomplishment of a dream; it’s who we become in the process.

In my experience, almost every dream I’ve ever had has had to go through a death and resurrection. Listen, my first attempt at church planting was a failure—it was absolutely embarrassing, it was discouraging. But guess what? That’s how God got us from Chicago to D.C., and I learned a couple of valuable lessons. One, unless the Lord builds the house, they who labor, labor in vain. That failure was a gift; I discovered what I’m capable of, and it’s not much without the Holy Spirit. I’m below average, but with the Holy Spirit, all bets are off and all things are possible. I believe that for you today.

Now the second lesson is that the cure for the fear of failure is not success. It’s failure in small enough doses that you build up an immunity to it and discover that there’s a God to pick you up, dust you off, and give you a second chance. And here’s the good news: your ego is a lot less likely to get in the way. Your ego dies, but the dream does not.

Now I want to speak into your experience from my experience. I think there are two kinds of deliverance: sometimes God delivers from—and we love that, right? Like, «Lord, get me out of this.» We love it when God prevents a problem. But you know, just a reminder: the word 'testimony' starts with the letters 'test.' Sometimes you have to pass the test to get the testimony.

Do you remember Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego? They were thrown into a fiery furnace, but there was a fourth man in that fire. Who was that? It was the God who will never leave us nor forsake us, an ever-present help in time of need. We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who was tempted in every way, just as we are, yet was without sin. Aren’t you grateful for a God with skin on? A God who gets in the mud with us? A God who goes into the fire with us?

And so, faith—there is a faith that I would almost call preventive faith. It’s a faith that believes God can keep things from happening. Oh, but then there’s a Lazarus faith, right? When it’s four days too late, and God raises Lazarus from the dead. Well, in the same sense, I think there’s a faith that’s unaffected by outcome—come hell or high water; like, it’s just a faith that is going to endure. And you might even call it a fiery furnace faith; it’s a faith that’s been tried and tested; it’s a faith that’s maybe been deconstructed and reconstructed, a faith that can stand the test of time and the test of trials.

Do you remember what those three Jewish boys said to Nebuchadnezzar? Check this out: Daniel 3:18. «If the God whom we serve exists, then He is able to deliver us from the fiery furnace and from your hand, oh king. But even if He does not, let it be known to you, oh king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden statue that you have set up.» That gives me goosebumps; that gets me fired up because it’s an either/or faith—it’s a faith that’s not going to shrink back from the circumstances. That’s the kind of faith that we need to have, and that’s the kind of faith that a fiery furnace can produce.

It was Carl Jung who said the difference between a good life and a bad life is how well you walk through the fire. There is a Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego listening to this message; I know it. You’re going through it. God, I pray that the joy of the Lord would be their strength. I pray the peace that surpasses understanding would guard their hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. I pray the God of all comfort to fill the emptiness and the void. I also pray that we would have the wisdom to learn the lesson that God is teaching us to cultivate the character that God is producing in us.

God is refining you; God is refining me, and that brings us, friends, to Genesis 50:20. Oh, I love this verse; listen, this verse is a game changer. This verse will get you through some difficult days; this verse will get you through some tough seasons. Genesis chapter 50, verse 20: «You intended to harm me.» Now let me back up right there. Okay, this is 13 years after his brothers sold him into slavery. This is after a prison sentence. This is when he interprets Pharaoh’s dream, which, by the way, he exercises this prophetic imagination and discerns what’s really happening when what’s happening is happening. He knows there are going to be seven years of plenty, but then there are going to be seven years of famine.

So this is now two decades later that famine hits, and guess what? His brothers have nothing to eat, and so they make the trip from Israel down to Egypt. Like, this is the «get even» moment. This is when you even the score; this is when you can execute a little bit of vengeance, but he doesn’t do that. Now, let’s be honest; read the story: he messes with their minds a little bit, okay? He plays some mind games, but he doesn’t seek vengeance. He’s not bitter; he’s better, and this is what he says: «You intended to harm me,» and it hurt. This is post-traumatic stress syndrome. This is a near-death experience—sold into slavery, wrongfully imprisoned; you intended to harm me, and it hurt.

There are scars to show for it, but God! But God! But God intended it for good to accomplish a day like this: the saving of many lives. Friends, that is 50/20 vision. By the way, thanks to our creative team for this little eye chart, «Dream Factory.» You’ll notice it’s not 20/20; it’s 50/20 vision. Why? Because we need long vision. We need to discern what’s really happening when what’s happening is happening. Listen, your life might, like my life, have all these subplots. There are things that people say about us, things that people do to us. There are hurts that you have; I have my fair share of scars and failures and mistakes and disappointments, but I want you to hear me today: the Author and Perfecter of faith is writing His story.

He is writing a bigger story; He’s writing history with a hyphen in it—in and through your life. I want to end on a personal note because I don’t want to pretend. I don’t want you to think that I have this thing all figured out. Man, there have been moments like when the movie theaters at Union Station shut down. «Like, Lord, how could you let that happen?» When contracts have fallen through, «God, how could that happen?» When a father-in-law, at the age of 55, passes away, «God, why? Why? Why would you allow that to happen?» Ruptured intestines, two days on a respirator—"God, why would you let me walk through that?»

Listen, my life has had its fair share of ups and downs, just like your life, but I’ve learned that God is writing a bigger story. When I was 19 years old, I was sound asleep; it was after midnight, and God woke me up. I’m not sure how else to say it. Now, about a month before, I’d walked through a cow pasture and heard that still, small voice—felt like God was calling me into ministry, but like I needed some confirmation. Now, I had never experienced anything like this before, and honestly, I never have since. It was, again, sound asleep, and God just woke me up.

I knelt down next to my bed, and I knew where God was taking me. I can’t even explain it, but sometimes God gives you a song in the night, and sometimes God gives you a scripture in the night. Man, I turned to Jeremiah 1, and God woke me up with these words: «The word of the Lord came to me: ‘Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you; before you were born, I set you apart and appointed you as a prophet to the nations.’» I mean, I’m 19; I don’t have any more consequential thinking; I don’t have any more emotional intelligence than Joseph—like, man, I was just living my life. I had gone to the University of Chicago; I was a political science major—politics, economics, rhetoric, law—and then God wakes me up and says, «Oh, I’m going to make you a prophet to the nations.»

I’m like, «Lord, no way; that doesn’t even make any sense,» and I had felt this call to ministry, but I didn’t feel called to be a missionary. The «many nations» made no sense to me. I want you to hear me: for 20 years, it made no sense. It was like a mystery to me. Well, long story short, at 22, I felt called to write, but you know this: I didn’t write a book until I was 35. Part of why I identify with Joseph is because I lived for 13 years with a dream deferred, and the writer of Proverbs said that hope deferred makes the heart sick.

I began to despise my birthday—like, «Lord, I don’t even like it.» My birthday was an annual reminder of a dream deferred. Then I started writing books, and I’ll tell you what happened: one day, a pastor friend of mine emailed me from Malaysia. He was in Malaysia speaking at a conference, and he basically said, «I’m speaking at a leadership conference in Malaysia; I visited the largest bookstore in Kuala Lumpur, and I saw a copy of your book, Soul Print.»

You know, part of me smiled—like, «Ha! What are the chances of him finding one of my books halfway around the world?» And then he wrote something that connected the dots. He said, «I stopped to praise God for the influence that He’s given you.» And then he said these words: «You’re a prophet to the nations.»

I had no earthly idea what God was doing. I didn’t know how God would answer that calling, that prayer. Maybe today you’re like me: «It’s been 13 years; God, this makes no sense. When is it going to make sense?» I want to tell you today: God is writing a bigger story, a better story. And here’s what happened: those books started getting translated into other languages—languages I don’t speak—like Russian, Romanian, German, Spanish, and Portuguese. And wouldn’t you know it, last night I get home from House of Prayer, and there’s a package from Japan. I don’t get a whole lot of packages from Japan, and lo and behold it’s a copy of Whisper.

I mean, I can’t tell you what it says, but that is Japanese. If you’d told me at 19, when God woke me up, «Hey, I’m going to use your words; I’m going to use you as a prophet to the nations. These books are going to get in places you have never been,» I don’t even know if I would have believed it. But Genesis 50:20—listen, whatever’s happening on a horizontal plane—"You intended to harm me, but God! But God! But God! But God intended it for good: the saving of many lives.»

And so, Lord, I pray for every person within sound of my voice-those who are discouraged, encouraged; those who have experienced failure, those who have experienced setbacks on an Abraham Lincoln scale. Lord, those who have seen relationships come apart; those who are in counseling because they’re just fighting to keep their head above water. God, I pray Your grace is sufficient. God, if Your grace could get Joseph to the other side-if you could take him from a prison and position him as second in command and use him to help save two nations- there is nothing that you cannot do through each and every one of us. So God, I pray for Your will, Your way-nothing more, nothing less, nothing else. In Jesus' name, amen.