Okay, it’s weird to admit this. But there’s an element of living in Africa, being a missionary and all that (or “working in development,” depending on your angle), which if dropped casually in the right circles, instantly hands one to a crumb of celebrity status. And it was really a cool job, y’know? And it made me really…happy. But I did a lot of exceedingly normal things over there. I shopped for a lot of groceries. Disciplined/schooled a lot of kids (well. Mine, anyway). I slept for about one-third of the time.
But can I be honest for a minute?
If I listen to the right voices (and on my bad days, I slip into it like an old pair of jeans), I might start to get the idea that I was heroic. And trust me. God did some heroic things among us there. Yet you might be picking up this recent post and this infographic that pride is a lot more cunning and slick than any of us could ever see coming.
I wish I wasn’t that person inside. (Feels even worse posting it to strangers.) But there’s a part of me that can get the idea that my spiritual resume actually adds to my value before God.
Insecurity (my evil look-alike of humility) has its revolving barber-pole of feeling superior and inferior. So sometimes when I’m praying, asking God for what I long for, I can think of all the reasons God should answer. I’ve prayed my own version of Nehemiah’s words: “Remember for my good, O my God, all that I have done…” (5:19).
But maybe not-so-humbly at its core.
There are people who could feed this in me. For all of my tips I’m holding onto for humility, a little whisper in my mind lets me know how easy it could be to casually throw out a churchy accomplishment, and I could see my respect level rise almost visibly in their eyes. Honestly, too often I succumb.
As if it were my accomplishments for God that made me acceptable.
In My Name, Amen
An American pastor at the turn of the century, R.A. Torrey, tells a fascinating story of an anonymous note he received once before preaching in Melbourne, Australia:
Dear Dr. Torrey: I am in great perplexity. I have been praying for a long time for something that I am confident is according to God’s will, but I do not get it. I have been a member of the Presbyterian Church for thirty years…I have been Superintendent in the Sunday school for twenty-five years, and an elder in the church for twenty years, and yet God does not answer my prayer and I cannot understand it.
Torrey makes the remarkable point that this man “is really praying in his own name.”*
There’s a clear parallel to me in the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the temple. The former’s prayer is essentially, You are so stinkin’ lucky, God, to have me on your team. His prayer is contrasted with the tax collector-aka-social-pariah: Have mercy on me. I’ve rejected you. Each, to me, seems to be praying in a different name.
Who Stands in the Gap?
I can’t really address Nehemiah’s prayer. It could very well be that He’s asking God to simply honor a beautiful sacrifice. I see Abraham, too, asking God to spare Sodom and Gomorrah for the sake of a handful of righteous people. But ultimately, all of these allow a righteous person to “stand in the gap” (Ezekiel 22:30). And there’s one Person whose rep I’d like to stake my prayers on than all others combined.
(Hint: It ain’t mine.)
The deeper I get in this generous grace (see what I did there?), the more I want to chuck the spiritual resume.
The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I’m tearing up and throwing out with the trash—along with everything else I used to take credit for…
I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him. I didn’t want some petty, inferior brand of righteousness that comes from keeping a list of rules when I could get the robust kind that comes from trusting Christ—God’s righteousness.
Philippians 3:8, MSG
Perhaps I blog about this stuff so it becomes undeniably real to me. So I’m forced to confront the kind of person I really am: the level of need at a disgusting core. Thankfully, he doesn’t let me stay there.
This week: I’m grateful for a God who stands in the gap.
Like this post? You might like
- The Pitfalls of Being a Good Example
- Shine: “What Does Humility Look Like When I’m Crushing It?”
- Tips on Humility from a Dead Bishop (Infographic)
- Self-deprecation and Other “Stupid” Thoughts
- Out of Insecurity: My Story
* as written in Keller, Timothy. Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God. New York: Dutton (2014).t
