Selfie-Worship
Here’s a picture of me . . . in front of the Grand Canyon.
This is me at the Louvre . . . with daVinci’s “Mona Lisa” over my shoulder.
Here I am in South Dakota . . . that’s Mt. Rushmore behind me.
Check me out in Florence . . . with Michelangelo’s “David” towering over me
I have noticed that sometimes my need to be acknowledged, seen or bolstered overshadows the “big show.” I seem to weasel my way into the center of the most amazing things: things for which I can take no credit whatsoever.
Have I lost my ability to be flabbergasted??
Can I no longer stare in dumbfounded silence?
Has quiet astonishment abandoned me?
Are there times to just point the camera outward?
For example: I know God . . .
-has reckless love for me
-wants to make me brave
-calls me out on the water
-will set a fire in my heart
. . . but is it okay just to focus on his reckless love, valor, supernatural power and sovereign fire-starting, without having to climb into the picture ourselves? God, for sure, does all these things I sing about on Sunday mornings, but those are just byproducts of Who God is. It feels like I’m most often the star, and He’s the sidekick; like I’m the landmark and He’s the backdrop; like I’m the Beauty and He’s the beholder.
Corporate worship might need to point the camera away a bit more.
