The King Deserves More

“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, ‘Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.’”
Martin Luther King Jr.

“Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius.” 
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

“I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble.”
Helen Keller

“If you are going to achieve excellence in big things, you develop the habit in little matters. Excellence is not an exception, it is a prevailing attitude.”
Colin Powell

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might, for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going.”
Ecclesiastes 9:10 (ESV)

Imagine, if you will, a sports team of lackluster athletes. They possess neither exceptional skill nor the determination to refine what little they have. They do not train. They do not study the game. They do not push their limits. And yet, they love the sport. They are convinced that their passion alone makes them qualified. Even failure does not deter them, because, in their minds, they are already champions—after all, they have heart. But is heart enough? They enter competitions only to be swiftly and embarrassingly defeated. But the losses do not trouble them. They see no need for greater discipline, no reason to analyze their shortcomings. They say they do it for the King. They claim their game is an offering of worship, a display of love. But what do they truly offer? If the King of kings stood before them, would they hand Him mediocrity wrapped in a bow of self-assurance and call it excellence? Yet this is precisely what so many do in the Christian life. How often do our lives reflect the real pursuit of excellence, the evidence of striving or discipline? And still, we tell ourselves it is good because we mean well. As though good intentions sanctify carelessness.

A Heart for the King Demands Excellence
Scripture does not excuse laziness under the banner of sincerity. Proverbs 18:9 (ESV) warns, “Whoever is slack in his work is a brother to him who destroys.” Malachi 1:6-8 condemns Israel for offering blemished sacrifices: “When you offer blind animals in sacrifice, is that not evil? And when you offer those that are lame or sick, is that not evil? Present that to your governor; will he accept you or show you favor?” (ESV). God did not accept halfhearted offerings from Israel. Why do we think He accepts them now? Excellence is not perfectionism. It is not about performance for its own sake. It is about offering our best to the Lord because He is worthy of nothing less. Paul exhorts, “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men” (Colossians 3:23, ESV). There is no category in which God says, “Just do whatever, as long as your heart is in the right place.” A heart truly set on the Lord drives a person toward greater diligence, not complacency. “Do you see a man skillful in his work? He will stand before kings; he will not stand before obscure men” (Proverbs 22:29). God honors those who cultivate excellence for His glory.

Love That Does Not Strive Is Not Love
Imagine a husband who tells his wife, “I love you,” but never seeks to understand her, never puts effort into knowing her deeper, never sacrifices for her. Is that love? If we claim to love the Lord but refuse to grow, refuse to sharpen our gifts, refuse to work harder, what are we truly saying? Paul compared the Christian life to an athlete in training: “Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable” (1 Corinthians 9:25, ESV). Athletes understand that talent without discipline is nothing. They train relentlessly, deny themselves, press forward, knowing that victory comes only through effort. Why do we accept standards lower than this in our service to God? “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it” (1 Corinthians 9:24, ESV). Our pursuit of excellence is not optional; it is a demonstration of love and faithfulness. The love of the game should make an athlete work harder. The love of God should drive a believer to excellence. If it does not—if passion does not lead to preparation, discipline, and growth—then perhaps it is not love at all, but self-deception. Growth is the evidence of true faith.

The Poison of Complacency in the Church
And yet, the Church is full of those who step into leadership, into musicianship, into teaching, into ministry, without preparation. The preacher who does not study deeply. The worshiper who does not develop their craft. The teacher who does not wrestle with Scripture. The servant who does not seek to grow in wisdom. All proclaiming that heart is all that matters. But is this really heart? Or is it laziness dressed in the language of devotion? We live in a time when mediocrity is celebrated as authenticity. If a sermon is shallow but heartfelt, we call it anointed. If someone sings poorly but does so passionately, we call it genuine worship. If a ministry is disorderly but well-intended, we call it Spirit-led. But sincerity does not sanctify sloppiness. The Spirit is not a substitute for discipline. “Let the wise hear and increase in learning, and the one who understands obtain guidance” (Proverbs 1:5, ESV). And Paul does not mince words when he exhorts Timothy: “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15, ESV). This is not a suggestion—it is a charge. Rightly handling the word of truth demands labor. It demands reverence. It demands preparation. Would you trust a doctor who has a heart for healing but refuses to study medicine? Would you board a plane flown by a pilot who loves aviation but never trained to fly? Yet we accept this in the Church. We place people in roles for which they are unprepared and call it an opportunity for faithfulness. But faithfulness is not doing what we want in the name of Jesus—it is doing what He has called us to do, with all the excellence He demands. Preparation matters.

An Offering Worthy of the King
David, when offered the chance to sacrifice to God without cost, refused, saying, “I will not offer burnt offerings to the Lord my God that cost me nothing” (2 Samuel 24:24, ESV). Worship, service, devotion—it must cost us something. Our best effort. Our time. Our diligence. Our striving. This is worship. “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Romans 12:1, ESV). God does not delight in empty offerings. He does not delight in those who bring Him leftovers and call it sacrifice. He is not glorified by the person who steps into authority without preparation. He is not honored by the one who sings to Him but refuses to improve. He is not pleased with the teacher who speaks His Word but does not study it. If we truly believe He is worthy, then we must live like it. Serve like it. Worship like it. Strive like it. Jesus spoke of a man who came to the wedding feast without a wedding garment—invited, yes, but unprepared. “‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness.” (Matthew 22:12–13, ESV). The invitation is not the end—it is the beginning. The King is not honored merely by our attendance, but by our readiness. God does not accept any offering simply because it is offered. He is holy. He is King. What we bring must reflect that. The love of the game should make an athlete train harder. The love of God should drive a believer to relentless pursuit of excellence. If it does not, then we must ask—do we truly love Him as we claim? The King of kings does not accept mediocrity in the name of sincerity. He is worthy of more. Let us give Him what He deserves.

So, dear reader, what will you offer Him? Will you bring what costs you nothing and expect Him to bless it? Or will you commit to labor, to learn, to discipline yourself in whatever He has given you to do? The world does not need more lukewarm offerings disguised as passion. It needs believers who refuse to offer anything less than their very best to the One who gave His all. Choose today to reject complacency. Choose to rise. The King is worthy—will your offering reflect that?