On Tuesdays, I like to post a thought. This has been my most committed day to blog. The topics tend to vary, depending on what is rolling around my head, but I do try to keep that focus where it should be, on God. This is also usually a post that doubles as a weekly newsletter devotional for my youth group. Pardon me for multi-tasking, but the overall schedule demands it.
You're not that important. Shocked? Hurt? Dismayed that I would say such a thing? Don't be offended. I am even less so. Less important that is. (That makes me sound like Yoda, doesn't it? Less important I am. See you will.)
My insignificance has become clearer to me over the past week or so. This, for me, is my big week of changes on my blog. It's ok if you didn't know that. Insignificance has a way of keeping information like that on the down-low. What I didn't realize was that even my wife didn't know.
I try to talk with this lady in my life on a fairly regular basis. That is, after the kids are in bed, because sentences were not meant to be finished while they are awake. The other night I shared a line from one of my posts, but I did it in such a way that expected her recognition. It's kind of like when you quote a favorite movie of yours only to see a blank expression on your friend's face. You become shocked that they don't love the movie as much as you do...or find out that they haven't seen it all.
Such was the case here. My wife had not read my blog recently. That prompted the following conversation.
Me: What do you mean you haven't read my blog lately?
Her: They stopped coming to my email. (Something, by the way, that I set up for her.)
Me: So put your email in again. Clearly the devil is trying to keep you from some fairly decent stories, one liners and segues into truth. The devil is like that, ya know.
Her: Could you just send them to me?
Me: You know, you could actually type in the address to my blog and see what it looks like.
Her: (Blank expression, as if hoping the moment will pass.)
Me: You hate me, don't you?
At this point one of the children came out for a drink of water, giving my wife the needed escape from me and giving me time to realize that I probably shouldn't fight for followers so hard.
It's the truth we must all face. I used to think that if everyone else was good at listening, that would leave me free to talk. After all, someone has to be listened to, right? But we all have to realize that it's not about us. Even Jesus, who many of us would agree that life is about, seemed to deflect attention just as much as He attracted it. If Jesus could point attention to God, shouldn't I at least try to do the same?
This search for insignificance is going to be harder than I thought.
You're not that important. Shocked? Hurt? Dismayed that I would say such a thing? Don't be offended. I am even less so. Less important that is. (That makes me sound like Yoda, doesn't it? Less important I am. See you will.)
My insignificance has become clearer to me over the past week or so. This, for me, is my big week of changes on my blog. It's ok if you didn't know that. Insignificance has a way of keeping information like that on the down-low. What I didn't realize was that even my wife didn't know.
I try to talk with this lady in my life on a fairly regular basis. That is, after the kids are in bed, because sentences were not meant to be finished while they are awake. The other night I shared a line from one of my posts, but I did it in such a way that expected her recognition. It's kind of like when you quote a favorite movie of yours only to see a blank expression on your friend's face. You become shocked that they don't love the movie as much as you do...or find out that they haven't seen it all.
Such was the case here. My wife had not read my blog recently. That prompted the following conversation.
Me: What do you mean you haven't read my blog lately?
Her: They stopped coming to my email. (Something, by the way, that I set up for her.)
Me: So put your email in again. Clearly the devil is trying to keep you from some fairly decent stories, one liners and segues into truth. The devil is like that, ya know.
Her: Could you just send them to me?
Me: You know, you could actually type in the address to my blog and see what it looks like.
Her: (Blank expression, as if hoping the moment will pass.)
Me: You hate me, don't you?
At this point one of the children came out for a drink of water, giving my wife the needed escape from me and giving me time to realize that I probably shouldn't fight for followers so hard.
It's the truth we must all face. I used to think that if everyone else was good at listening, that would leave me free to talk. After all, someone has to be listened to, right? But we all have to realize that it's not about us. Even Jesus, who many of us would agree that life is about, seemed to deflect attention just as much as He attracted it. If Jesus could point attention to God, shouldn't I at least try to do the same?
This search for insignificance is going to be harder than I thought.
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