“He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.” Luke 1:51-53 (NIV)
Random Thoughts:
God is a god of the Underdog: the poor, the hungry, the weak, the small. We know from biblical stories throughout human history that He delights in taking the most unlikely-to-succeed and defeating the naysayers, the skeptics and critics. Those who face overwhelming odds can take hope because He is still their champion. He is on their side.
But why? Is there something wrong with achievement? Hard-earned bank accounts? A strong work-ethic and can-do attitude? A Ph.D. and a Lexus to go with it? Is God not a god of the “successful” too? Yes. And no.
God is a god of anyone who has the humility to see Him. Difficult times simply make that easier to achieve. The bruises of life’s hard knocks have a way of teaching us a life-saving lesson: God is god; we are not. But how hard that reality becomes when we, the well-fed and blessed, begin to feel so self-reliant. So self-sustaining. So “I”.
Pride blinds us to our need for the “I AM”, it tells us we can live life on our own terms, that we are wise enough to know the ways of eternity and the rules that govern it. It’s offspring are distain and contempt. And it is deadly. Pride pushes away the only source of peace our souls truly crave: a restored relationship with the One who made us. Only humility enables us to accept the gift of grace God provides. It alone satiates our soul’s hunger for significance; it alone lifts up our heads with dignity in ways “achievement” never can.
Question:
Where are you seeking fulfillment or identity other than from God? Is there a part of you that tends to think more highly of itself (apart from God) than it ought? A part of you that needs to replace the “I” perspective and attitudes with the “I AM”?
Journal Response:
Being a magazine writer has its perks. I get to write what others pay to hear. At times it can get pretty heady. There is no buzz in the world like that of thinking, “Wow. I just told someone how to build an entire sports complex. And they believed it!” Never mind that I’ve never even been to one of these multi-million dollar behemoths, these meccas of the health-conscious. It’s in print. They have to believe me!
In the last 10 years I have told people how to design the perfect outdoor toilet, how to build professional sports stadiums, how to design special needs playgrounds, how and what to cook for the best parties and most recently, how to build that perfect dog park. But it isn’t really me. Everything I write depends solely on the expertise of those I talk to. I simply try to understand it and put it into words other people may hopefully want to hear.
But I battle pride. I can (and do!) delude myself into thinking I am the expert. Without benefit of a degree in architecture, without a single class in design, without a single cooking class, I sometimes think I know more than I do. I have a house filled with do-it-yourself projects that would not quite pass local building code muster to prove it.
I love to tell people “how to...”. Problem is, I can begin to think it makes me who I am. It doesn’t. If my ability to write were ended right now, would I be content telling others I am “just a stay-at-home” mom? Or even more importantly, telling myself, "I am treasured beyond belief by the Creator of the Universe". Aye. There’s the rub.
I love the gifts God has given me. I love being told my work is appreciated. But whenever I allow that to convince me it is who I am--that it is what gives me value and worth--then I am running that never-ending-treadmill trying to ensure that source of my identity never stops. Great way to loose weight. Lousy way to live life.
So that’s my schtick. That’s my battle. God help me.
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