Little boys all across the States are waking up right about now. The dreams they had last night—those from their stories—now have a chance to be lived out. So they grab their toy sword and start swinging. From the break of dawn, they are swinging. Or, if they are like my boys, they start running. From one end of the hallway to the other, they run. They run because there is a battle to fight somewhere. Something somewhere needs to be subdued into the submission of the "good guy".
All little boys know there is a battle to fight somewhere.
With all these wielded foam swords and plastic guns with dead AA batteries that haven't worked in forever, comes a deeper question that sticks with these little boys all their lives. It's THE question they have asked since the beginning:
Am I good enough?
Time passes. Little boys grow to be big boys who turn into young men who turn into men with families with children of their own, and they continue to ask the same question.
It's interesting to me how quickly we want to give positive affirmation to little boys when the question presents itself. Of course, none of my little boys have asked this question but they really are asking it all the time.
Today, when my oldest son tried to shoot a soccer ball past his little brother to score a goal and missed, the first thing he did was look at me. No words were spoken but that little boy was looking for something, anything that would guide him to some sort of answer. He's doing it, and he doesn't even know it. I so badly wanted to look at him and tell him how good of a job he did. I wanted to tell him he is good. But, he isn't, is he? He didn't score. He (gulp) . . . failed.
Somehow, the situation hasn't stopped for me. The question pops up constantly. I fail at work and the first thing I want to do is look around at my boss or colleagues or wife for positive affirmation. I didn't really fail, did I?
It's easy to leave the losses in the past though. Talking about what I did is easy, but what about living in the present and dealing with what I'm doing?
What do you do when you are sitting in the reality that you are not enough? You're not smart enough to get into that school, or not good enough with people for that management role, or not "spiritual" enough to keep your family from rising above suffering of overseas missions (Me). Where do you go then?
Every voice but God's says, "Believe in yourself!" You can probably even hear the voices now saying, "That's nonsense! The power of the will!" "Just be you and the rest will take care of itself." You might even hear some in decrepit Christian circles say something like, "God helps those that helps themselves." Ick. Somehow Jesus just became unnecessary.
God doesn't talk like that. He has a simple message, one that cuts through all the nonsense, and it sounds a little something like this:
It's interesting to me how quickly we want to give positive affirmation to little boys when the question presents itself. Of course, none of my little boys have asked this question but they really are asking it all the time.
Today, when my oldest son tried to shoot a soccer ball past his little brother to score a goal and missed, the first thing he did was look at me. No words were spoken but that little boy was looking for something, anything that would guide him to some sort of answer. He's doing it, and he doesn't even know it. I so badly wanted to look at him and tell him how good of a job he did. I wanted to tell him he is good. But, he isn't, is he? He didn't score. He (gulp) . . . failed.
Somehow, the situation hasn't stopped for me. The question pops up constantly. I fail at work and the first thing I want to do is look around at my boss or colleagues or wife for positive affirmation. I didn't really fail, did I?
But I did fail. I wasn't enough. I didn't have what it took.
It's easy to leave the losses in the past though. Talking about what I did is easy, but what about living in the present and dealing with what I'm doing?
What do you do when you are sitting in the reality that you are not enough? You're not smart enough to get into that school, or not good enough with people for that management role, or not "spiritual" enough to keep your family from rising above suffering of overseas missions (Me). Where do you go then?
Every voice but God's says, "Believe in yourself!" You can probably even hear the voices now saying, "That's nonsense! The power of the will!" "Just be you and the rest will take care of itself." You might even hear some in decrepit Christian circles say something like, "God helps those that helps themselves." Ick. Somehow Jesus just became unnecessary.
God doesn't talk like that. He has a simple message, one that cuts through all the nonsense, and it sounds a little something like this:
For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.
Also like this:
For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin.
No matter what we do it will never be good enough. We are not good enough. If we were, we would never understand the depth of his love for us. In trying to convince ourselves with positive affirmation that we aren't that bad, or we are mostly good, or we are decent Christians, we massively miss the point.
The thought that we are not good enough is terrifying—no, it's murderous. The point we realize we don't have what it takes anymore is the day we die. It's the day we let go. It's on that day that we are blessed because we know that the only thing we really have is our creation.
The only thing we can say we have is our existence. God made us, therefore, we have value. Our maximum worth started on day zero for us when God dreamed about us with a smile and said, "I'll make you just right. On day one we have already lost our ability to add worth to our lives. We only have our creation, which then starts to dig even deeper into the issue: Us and the creator.
The Really Big Battle—The Final Battle
Alright, I've pounded hard and this is turning into my longest blog entry to date. I think it would continue on for a few thousand more words if the right book deal came along allowing me to really show the world what I'm made o— . . . Stop. There I go again.
I've always been excited and terrified for the moment Jesus returns. I hoped I would be with him as he parted the clouds with his white horse and charged straight to Satan's hill. I always thought that was the battle I was preparing for.
The truth is, the final battle any of us will ever be responsible for is the one in our hearts, not the one in the sky. It's the battle between us and Jesus. Who is stronger? But our place in the battle is to lose. This is where we wave the white flag and totally give up and let Him conquer our hearts. This is it, this is the final battle for us.
When Paul talked about dying every day, I think it was his way of telling us we was trying to lay down his sword. He was trying to let go too.
As a Christian, the thought of me fighting against Jesus is unsettling.
"He's your 'king', why fight against him?" says the non-Christian.
I don't know. It doesn't seem to make sense and yet, it's exactly what I do. He says I was created valuable and capable enough for fellowship with Him—for acceptance, and I disagree and try to show him through what I do how good I am. The battle rages on, and I fail every time.
I could always do something better, I could always impress one more person. There's more people to influence, more projects to take on and conquer, more souls to save and books to write. There's always a better way to say what I want, another dollar I don't have that I can't (or won't) give away. There's always better, there's never good enough in an honest person's mind. The truly progressive human is the one that can come to the reality that you are at the end. You've been there since day one.
I. Can't. Be. Better.
This isn't a vague concept for me. This is my question for myself everyday and lately with great weight: Is Jesus really enough?
When my oldest missed the shot on goal, I sat with him for a moment in full-on bear hug mode and told him, "You missed, but you are my son, and you were made just right."
Today, my prayer is that I can believe God as he whispers the same thing in my ear. If you're a Christian, I hope you can to. If you're not, surrender.
My floating thoughts about value will land or be captured somewhere; either I submit them to Jesus, or Satan, but whatever choice is winnowed out, this fight is the most important battle of my life.
My floating thoughts about value will land or be captured somewhere; either I submit them to Jesus, or Satan, but whatever choice is winnowed out, this fight is the most important battle of my life.
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