I have a little quiz for you this morning.

[Reach under table and pull out large rocks and put in container.]

Is this full?

[Pull out small gravel. Dump in and shake down into spaces.]

How about now? Is the jar full?

Some of you are probably familiar with this little exercise. It has been around for a few years in time management or priority setting circles. The reason it has been popular is because it teaches a very simple lesson. That lesson is this: If you don’t put the big rocks in first, you won't get them in at all.

Of course, we are not just talking about rocks and jars. We are talking about life. If we don't identify what's important, give it the largest part of our space, time, energy and so forth, it will never get its due. We have to know what is important and begin with it. The rest is filler.

Or as Stephen Covey put it in his book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, "The Main Thing is to Make the Main Thing the Main Thing."

I don’t think there is any question that that is good advice.

Loren Broadus was a professor at Lexington Theological Seminary, an author and a frequent speaker in churches and at other events. As a man of many, many talents, Loren was often asked to serve in organizations and on various community and church boards. But well into his career, Loren found himself overwhelmed. His life was a whirlwind of obligations-meetings here, luncheon’s there, a speech to be given, another chapter due. It was all too much. His time was no longer his own. So Loren did exactly what we are talking about today-he sat down and identified the big rocks in his life. He decided what mattered most, and then he gave them the priority. He scheduled time for his family, his teaching, his writing, the most important things in his life. Then he sat down at his computer and wrote resignation letter to nearly two dozen organizations and boards to which he had agreed to serve. Kiwanis? Loved it, but it was just a pebble in his jar. The board of Hospice? He loved it, but it was sand. Committee chairperson for a professional group? It was OK, but it was only water filling up his jar. While all were good causes, all were worthy of someone’s attention, Loren knew they were not his top priorities-and hadn’t been for a long time.

To regain control of his life, Loren had to put the big rocks in first, had to make the main things the main things. And that’s what he did.

Of course, you know of others who have come to such decisions.

• The ball player that retires to spend more time with his family.
• The business executive that gives up her six-figure salary to help the needy.
• The sibling who gives a kidney to save a sister’s life.
• The doctor who passes on a lucrative private practice in order to do research.

They are examples of people who pause long enough to decide what’s really important, then build their lives around it. They have taken the advice to make the main thing the main thing.

Yet as Christians, we don’t have the option of deciding what big rock around which we want to fill. That has already been decided. When we stood before the congregation and confessed that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the Living God, or when we were baptized as a child and confirmed as a teen, that decision was made. We declared then our absolute allegiance to Jesus. He is, from that moment on, the rock around which everything else in life is to fill. Every decision, every relationship, every moment is simply gravel or sand or water that must be shaped by his presence at the center of our lives.

That is the hard truth Jesus conveyed to three would-be followers.

The first is a volunteer. He’s heard Jesus teach and preach. He’s witnessed Jesus’ power and might. "I’ll follow you anywhere," he says. It is the kind of offer any leader would hope to hear.

But not Jesus. "Are you sure?" he says. "Foxes have holes. Birds have nests. But I have nowhere to lay my head." The implication is that neither would his followers. They would have no home, no security, no comfort. There would be no soft, cushy life of privilege for them. Following Jesus means a life on the move, a life risking one’s security-both physical and emotional-for the sake of the Gospel. Jesus needed to know: Was he to be the man’s biggest rock or was security?

The second is a recruit. "Follow me," Jesus says. And the man is willing. Maybe he would even love to go, but he has obligations. The Law of Moses required him to take care of his parents. "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." Surely Jesus would understand. But no. "Let the dead bury the dead," he says. Was he being cold-hearted? No. He was confronting this recruit with the truth-the truth that following Jesus challenges every obligation. Even the Jewish Law, as good and important as it was to life, could only be filler. Jesus had to be first.

And then there is the third would-be disciple. He too volunteers. "I’ll follow you, Lord, but let me say goodbye to my family first." Certainly such a request is reasonable. Who could deny the man one last chance to kiss his mother and father goodbye before going off into an unknown future with Jesus? Yet Jesus objects. "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God." Jesus’ point: Even the most sacred of relationships must be relative to the one with him.

Jesus makes it clear that to follow him means nothing matters more-not security, not other obligations, not even our relationships with others. To be his disciple means he is the rock at the heart of life.

Anthony Robinson was a young pastor when he learned this hard truth. It was that time of year again, time for the church’s annual stewardship emphasis. It was to be an "Every Member Canvass." Some of you remember those. For those of you who don’t, leaders in the congregation would call on every member, talk to them about the vision of the church, and ask them to fill out a pledge card, a declaration of how much money they planned to give to the church in the next year.

As is often the case, the church brought in a veteran minister to lead the campaign. When he sat down with those who would be visiting the members, he gave to each of them a sheet of paper with the word "EXCUSES" spelled in all capital letters across the top. Below he had listed some of the common excuses people give for not supporting the church’s ministry. They were good excuses. They were reasonable excuses. They were the kinds of things that any of us might say and have taken by any hearer at face value.

But at the bottom of the page, Robinson found these words: "ALL EXCUSES SHOULD BE TREATED AS A SIGN OF INSUFFICIENT COMMITMENT."

They were harsh words. They were not words Robinson wanted to read or hear. But that old preacher knew something about following Jesus. He knew it was difficult. He knew it was demanding. He knew it could be costly. But he knew that those who put Jesus first always find a way to be faithful.

Today there are lots of big rocks vying for our space. Some tout the holy trinity of "me, myself, and mine." Others tell us that the family must be rock at the center of our society. Still others-especially this week-swear that allegiance to the state must be first.

But don’t believe it. The only rock worthy of your absolute devotion is the Rock of Ages, Jesus Christ our Lord.