I think it's those earliest, childhood vices that are the
hardest to rid ourselves of. They become such comfortable friends that we
barely even notice them, and when we do it takes some real persuading to become
convinced that they're no good for us.
For me, it's craving the applause of others that
somehow always worms its way back into my motives. I am a quieter sort of
person ... not quite introverted, but definitely not the star of the show. At
least not the star of an actual, on an honest-to-goodness stage sort of show.
But in my own mind? According to the script I have secretly been writing for as
long as I can remember? Oh, I'm the headliner. No doubt about it. In my
mind I’m ever the heroine because it has always come so easily to me - earning
applause, that is.
You get good grades! (clap, clap, clap!)
You are
responsible and follow the rules! (clap, clap, clap!)
You work hard
and are ambitious! (clap, clap, clap!)
You love Jesus & lead Bible studies/ministries/go
on mission trips! (clap, clap, clap!)
The trinkets stack up, little imaginary trophies won for my
own performances. The shelves in my mind become crowded with medals
representing the little compliments received here and there, with the
occasional golden cup or winged woman for larger accomplishments. It can look
like a shrine in there if I’m not careful – a cheap, brassy shrine that bows to
my own ego.
Two things
become really tricky when applause is your kryptonite:
Firstly,
people tend to take it less seriously than more noticeable sins. “Oh you’ve
never struggled with pre/extra-marital sex/alcohol/an eating disorder/etc, so
you wouldn’t understand.” I may not know what it is to be controlled by any of
those behaviors, but I do know what it is like to constantly second-guess
myself in an effort to not do right things with wrong motives. I know what it
is like to feel like I’m spinning my wheels because I find myself daily seeking
that which I know won’t satisfy. I know what it is like to consider my own sin
and to see in it the very same glory-seeking desire that forever ended Lucifer’s
fellowship with God. Please don’t tell me I’ve always been such a good person.
Secondly, the
things I’m normally seeking applause in are the things I’m supposed to be
doing anyway. So, going cold turkey? Not
really an option. I cannot just quit doing anything I ever get a pat on the
back as a result of: “Thanks for helping out in the preschool class!” “We
really appreciated that meal you brought by!” “I’m so glad you love teaching
our kids about Jesus!” See what I mean? I can’t quit telling my kids about
Jesus just because I sometimes feel prideful when a family member says I’m
doing a great job or when my 3-year-old says something sweetly profound. As a
result, I often find myself in a weird advance-retreat-advance-retreat sort of
loop. I see an opportunity to use a gifting God has given me and I begin to
pursue utilizing said gift in that arena. Someone says something kind. I feel
good, maybe I feel proud. Wait … maybe I’m utilizing this gift just for the
sake of my own pride? Now I can’t tell. I retreat.
I don’t yet
know if there is a way to kill off the egomaniac inside, or if her presence is
just part of my faith journey, like Jacob’s limp or Paul’s thorn. Let me tell
you what I do know … Matthew 6:5 warns against applause-seeking acts of
righteousness, saying that those who engage in those behaviors, “have their
reward,” in the earthly applause they are given. I am determined to seek a greater reward. It is so hard sometimes.
SO hard. You may laugh, but there are times I have to whisper to myself, “His
applause is better,” over and over again in order to rein myself in from
performance Christianity.
I also know
that it is all grace. It is all grace that I was born to parents who raised me in a way that encouraged me to love Jesus. It is all grace that God has preserved me from some of the
sinful behaviors that have more crippling consequences in this life. It is all
grace I have some gifts that some people choose to rejoice in with me. It is
all grace that I know Him. It is all grace, and it is not for my sake. It is
for the sake of the hurting that He wants to love through me. Of course He
loves me, but what He gives to me is for them, whomever “they” may be, so that they
can see Him.
Tear down that
brassy shrine to myself, Jesus, and may I embody the words of the prayer,
written by Amy Carmichael:
“Love through me, Love of God,Make me like Thy clear air,Through which, unhindered, colors pass,As though it were not there.”
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