Showing posts with label humility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humility. Show all posts

Friday, May 11, 2007

Identify Me

We all have an identity: certain traits and characteristics that set us apart from other people. When asked to describe yourself, what things do you say? How would you classify yourself? Usually I begin with my personality and beliefs, likes and dislikes, my situation in life… things that other people can easily grasp, allowing them to put me in their neat little box of opinions. :) Some things are easily seen: my ethnicity and manner of dress; other things are not so apparent.

I think that as believers we can all safely say that our desire is for others to see Christ in us, first and foremost. But do they? Do they see the very characteristics of Christ Jesus in our lives? Or do they see someone whose identity is somehow wrapped up in something lesser?

When a person has strong convictions and chooses a less-traveled road, it is so easy to become entangled in a sort of pride in those things that characterize and set us apart. And, suddenly, we are known as homeschoolers, feminine dressers, stay-at-home-daughters, Bible college students, health food eaters, cloth-diapering mamas, advocates of courtship… the list goes on. The convictions we hold dearly become our identity. What about, simply, followers of Jesus? There comes a time when we suddenly realize we have left our first love…

How do we avoid this pride? Should we let go of our convictions? No, but perhaps we should not be holding onto them quite so tightly. Let them fade to the background. Let us determine, like Paul, to “know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.” Study His life, His words, His Identity. Know Him, so that the world may see Him. Read Galatians 5, examine your life in light of the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. These are the things others should see in you, that should set you apart--that should identify you.


- by Elizabeth Lorenz

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

On Becoming Real - Part Two

In The Great Divorce, C. S. Lewis paints the picture of a man who becomes prisoner to his alter ego. The more he listens to it, the larger it grows and the more he shrinks, until at last he vanishes altogether. At the same time you are recognizing the inevitable wretchedness of your flesh, don't make the mistake of thinking you are inevitably wretched. You are a new creature, a child of God, with the gift of free will. C. S. Lewis' tragic man could have been rescued with one word of rejection to his captor.

Hannah Hurnard, once a prisoner to acute self-consciousness, became through the transforming power of the Holy Spirit a triumphant and joyful missionary to Israel. She warned that if you want to hear God's voice, you cannot “indulge in daydreams” about yourself. That means no more starring in mental movies, so if one comes on, change the channel! Here you can help yourself by changing your mental diet. Too many movies and novels depict heroes and heroines as “naturally good” and neglect to show all the blood, sweat, and tears that go into character development. For a more realistic view of life, try reading Hannah's allegory, Hind's Feet on High Places, her biography, Hearing Heart or books by other clear-eyed authors, such as George MacDonald and C. S. Lewis, Elizabeth Goudge and Elisabeth Elliot.

Have you noticed something about living on a plaster-saint pedestal? It's lonely up there. “Oh, you're always good!” an acquaintance gushed to me when I was a teenager. Naturally, I was flattered, until I began to have the uncomfortable feeling that to her, “naturally good” was about as strange and incomprehensible as a space alien. Then I wanted to get off my pedestal!

But how? The temptation was to do something outrageously bad. Of course, that would be just as false as my borrowed glory. The answer is much simpler. Just become vulnerable in relationships: not flaunting deep, dark sins, but not constantly self-editing, either. Your sins will seem much more real to you when other people know about them. You'll begin to seem much more real – and therefore more lovable – to other people. If that seems too risky, remember that the bottom line is this: what's in your heart must come out sometime. Why not with trusted friends? And if you take the risk, you'll discover how refreshing it is to be bumped off your pedestal and onto the solid ground of reality and unconditional love.

When you get that “holier than thou” feeling coming on, cultivate a sense of appreciation for others' strengths, and vocalize that appreciation to them in detail. Again, it will make the truth more real to you and to them. Some people keep a “hall of shame” which they return to in their minds whenever they need a little deflation. It also helps to recognize that the temptation you scorn now will probably show up at your door later in a more appealing costume. I remember looking down on people who became addicted to computer games... until I discovered a new and fascinating game and wasted an entire afternoon playing it. I honestly thought I was a patient person... until responsibility forced me to stay in situations long enough to actually get bothered and begin yelling at people.

Along the same lines, I've found that I can often use logic to keep my feet on the ground. “Let every man think of himself soberly, as he ought to think,” says Paul. That means I have to ask myself, “Am I really so saintly because I stay last to clean in the kitchen, or because I don't beat my siblings up?” And if I'm honest, I have to answer, “No.” I do those things because I like to clean and because I'm too lazy to pick a fight. Now if I were to offer to wash the lettuce without reminding anyone how much I hate doing it; if I were to take a sudden change of plans calmly; if I were to stop in the middle of a good book in order to get to bed on time – then I would be exhibiting true character.

Once I caught onto the fact that I could not honestly accept flattery, I began (mentally) to don a raincoat and wait it out whenever someone praised me. But when I caught on to the fact that “my gifts” are actually given to me by God for other people's benefit, I realized that my oh-so-virtuously donned raincoat was actually false pride. What a delicate balancing act!

When I first learned how to drive, I hung so far over to the right that I convinced my poor mother that I was going to run into all the mailboxes. This made me so nervous that I developed the habit of making constant and minute corrections to my steering. Needless to say, my passengers were intensely frustrated with all that swerving! It was only when I fixed my eyes far ahead, on the middle of the road, that I was able to drive smoothly and confidently. While you're learning to be real, it's essential to fix your eyes firmly on Jesus.

You discover that the real reason you cannot star in your mental movies is because there can be only one star of the show, and that star is Jesus! The reason you're lonely on your pedestal is because hypocrisy makes Jesus sick, and because He loves you so much that He is intent on making you real, regardless of the cost to Himself. The reason you want to be real is because He is the original, and He is so naturally supernatural, so beautifully, unselfishly, genuinely holy that you can't wait to be like Him!

When you're focused on Jesus, what first merely peeks through the cracks in the crumbling plaster of your self-life will soon shoulder its way through: the living, breathing, growing masterpiece of true holiness that God is creating inside of you. And when that happens, do what Corrie ten Boom did. Come out at the curtain call, accept the bouquet of praise... and then hand it up to Jesus.

- by Elisabeth Adams

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Do Your Ears Hang Low?

Remember that exhibit? The one I've been recruiting volunteers for? The one I hefted pillars for? The one I've been telling everybody about? Perhaps you've noticed that I've been a little exited about it. The promise of spiritual benefit for others, the sense of camaraderie in the work, the mystery of ancient bone-boxes, and the Israeli tang all added up to a pretty tantalizing concoction. (And the tiny feeling of ownership that came with helping edit the scripts didn't hurt, either). Needless to say, I was really looking forward to this last Monday. A lot.


Monday arrived at last. Bright and early, three dear neighbors, my family, and I headed towards the big city, the block-sized building, and the huge room. There it was, all the doors flung open, and banners announcing the exhibit everywhere. My friend Tisha was at the ticket counter, and I gleefully introduced every family member in sight. Then we got our headsets and walked through the brightly-colored bazaar to the entrance. At first sight, the completed setup reminded me of the tent of meeting, with tiers of tabbed curtains hung everywhere. I feasted my eyes, but it was the auditory that I was anticipating the most. Would I recognize the script? Would any small scrap of my creativity be there, however anonymous a part?

We stood before the opening screen. Ah, there was the familiar archaeologist-narrator, saying words that were laugh-out-loud deja-vu. Clearly the script I had read so carefully. Oh good, they changed the archaeologist's name, just as my professor suggested: not Rex, but Daniel. We walked into the first room and the oral story continued. Obviously the same story, but just as obviously the great-grandchild of script I had grown to know - or perhaps even a great-grandnephew. In fact, after the opening video, the unfolding script was all new to me.
I came back to earth with a gentle bump, as I began to realize just what a small cog I am in the great machine that produced this exhibit. But terra firma felt good, and with my curiosity about the fate of the script satisfied, I enjoyed the whole thing - bone boxes, chatty Atlanta security guards, towering palms, Antartic air-conditioning, pensive statutes, Roman glass, the rather rad 3-D glasses, and all.

And there we were, back in the bazaar. In front of the Thomas Kinkade booth, where paintings hung, a middle-aged gentleman from Texas attended, and a video of Kinkade's visit to Israel played. Of course I had to point out my professor's wife, the calm, capable Claire who squired Thomas and Nanette about the Holy Land. Clearly Mr. Texas had been having a boring morning, because he immediately pulled out his cell phone and requested a photo op - with me! Then he whipped off the picture to his daughter, and to Kinkade himself - who, I assured him, would not know who I was! My far-from-boring morning was brightened still more as he glowingly announced his upcoming maiden voyage to Israel and blessed me with a few postcards depicting Jesus at prayer over Jerusalem. Certainly nothing about being small cogs kept either of us from blessing the other!

My daddy says that everybody needs their ears lowered once in a while, by which, of course, he means not thinking of ourselves more highly than we ought to think. (Romans 12:3) He was right...but he forgot to tell me how rewarding it can be.

- by Elisabeth Adams

Monday, August 07, 2006

A Prideful Undoing

I hate admitting when I’m wrong. I hate admitting when I’ve been a fool. I hate admitting that pride has taken over me, and my heart is wrong. It's funny that God can open your eyes to pride so quickly and in one instant rip the pride from underneath you and leave you with only His grace to stand on.

I learned that the hard way this week.

Ever since I was young, I was taught to do everything for God’s glory--to put Him first. It was grained in my brain...washed into my being. So naturally, I figured that’s what I had been doing all along. How wrong I was.

The seed of pride entered my heart so long ago that I did not even realize it was there. It became a part of me. The funniest part was that I became so adjusted to the pride, that I thought it was a desire to showcase my talent and abilities for Christ. Yet my ulterior motives where to glorify myself. To get myself a little further on the ladder of fame and success.

God is so good to have kept me low…I never reached the pinnacle of my field, and never got the recognition I thought I deserved. I fooled myself into thinking that I wanted all the fame just so I could “present God on a bigger platform.” I was only fooling myself. God saw right through my selfish heart.

This past week was my undoing. In a worship service, the one place I so deeply wanted to show my “talent”, God broke me. I suppose it was time for my prideful heart to be shattered on the floor so He could simply pick up the pieces and mend them into the likeness of Him. Being broken is hard. It's finally admitting that I was wrong. It's admitting that my dreams and desires have been selfish and were ultimately to glorify myself. It's laying my true hopes and dreams down at the Saviors feet and allowing Him to mold them into what He wants them to be.

Pride…it hides too well. You’d never know it's there until you come crashing down. Yet God is so gracious. If you listen to His voice, step off your high horse, and admit your mistakes, He won’t allow you to fall. He will break you, take you, and make you into something far greater then any fame or success is worth.

- by Katherine Barron

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