The other day I drove by a small cemetery. In it were several small, crumbling headstones that marked the final resting places of a couple dozen individuals. The cast iron fence surrounding the plots was rusting away. A large tree dominated the space and the grass hadn't been mowed for weeks. Those who were buried in this places were long dead, and long forgotten.
Seeing it caused something inside me to rise up and say, "That won't be me."
And I struggle with that.
Jesus said, "Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all."
If that's the case, I want to be the greatest slave ever. Maybe it's cheating the system, but I want to be great.
I've wanted to be great ever since I was a little kid. I found a journal I had to keep in kindergarten. In it I had to write what I wanted to be when I grow up. I said, "president of the united states."
People know who they are. They are remembered after they die.
I know that what really matters is that my family loves me and remembers me, and most of all that God loves me and remembers me. We are only dust. We are a fleeting shadow. We are only here for the blink of an eye. What really matters is eternity.
I know all of this. I still want to be great. And I want to be the kind of great that is remembered.
My gosh, what an arrogant egotistical jerk I am.
Greatness has a lot of different definitions. Many are told only by their families or friends that they are great. Others achieve greatness that isn't revealed until someone is giving their eulogy. A small few achieve widespread acclaim of greatness in their lifetime.
I don't believe that God created us to be bland, average, or mediocre. God was constantly raising up great men and women. God is looking for those willing to be great for Him.
I think it's ok to go for greatness. What's not ok is to absorb it.
Scientists and engineers know that all machines have an energy efficiency issue that must be dealt with. Transferring energy always risks losing energy for its intended purpose. You put in a certain amount of energy, and you get a smaller amount of energy out, because somewhere in the machine is energy loss. For instance, to produce electricity with a gas turbine, you lose a lot of energy. In fact, you only get about 40% of the energy you put into it. The rest of the energy is lost in heat. Muscles are only about 15% efficient, meaning your body can only produce about 15% of the energy that is put in. Ours is also mostly lost as heat, which is why our bodies are so warm. Incredibly inefficient machines.
The same is true with the transfer of greatness. Too often, greatness gets lost or absorbed in the wrong place. I preach a particularly powerful sermon. People tell me, "that was great!" How much of that greatness should be absorbed by me, and how much should be transferred to God? I lead a church through a series of growth barriers and am recognized as a leader by my peers. How much of the greatness should be absorbed by me, and how much should be transferred to God? I write a book, get a new degree, gain accolades, gain followers. How much of the greatness should be absorbed by me and how much should be transferred to God?
Of course, the answer is always 100% should go to God, without whom I am nothing.
One of the big traps pastors...and everyone else...falls into is tat we are pretty inefficient machines when it comes to transferring greatness back to God. Through God, we do something great, and at first, we let ALMOST all the glory go back to God. But something in the back of our minds says, "well...I did have SOMETHING to do with it." God gets like 90% of the greatness credit. Eventually, as people continue to give us praise, we absorb a little more of the the greatness and give God a little less glory. Before long, we begin thinking the God is pretty lucky to have us. And we start absorbing 100% of the accolades we receive.
I still want to be great, but I want to be a different kind of great. I want to be the kind of the person that transfers 100% of the greatness back to God. Whether the accolade is big or small, I want to always remember that none of it belongs to me. What is thought of me years from now really makes no difference. Even if I'm totally forgotten.
So maybe what I really want is for people not to remember me, but to remember God because of me. Maybe that's true greatness. So bury me in a long forgotten country cemetery, overshadowed by a large tree and overgrown with grass. Forget me. But my goal...my hope...is that future generations of my family and people I come into contact with remember God because of me.
How great would that be?
No comments:
Post a Comment