Vulnerability and confession time.
Sometimes I start thinking I’m awesome. Sometimes, I start thinking that I have it all together and that I am the funniest, most charming person there ever was. Sometimes, I start thinking I don’t need help, correction, advice or counsel… that I can make it on my own. Sometimes, I start thinking that I’m solely responsible for my future and it’s up to me to make what I want to happen, happen. Sometimes I think I’m the one running the show. Sometimes, I even venture to characterize myself as “independent.”
Sometimes, usually immediately following these things, I fall flat on my face, belly-flopping into life, face-first, realizing, moments before my skin smacks the surface, “this is not what I wanted to happen.”
I don’t know about you, but there have been many times in the past year where I’ve discovered that pride comes before the fall.
Because, you see, I might have fantastic giftings.
I might be totally secure in them; confident in who God created me to be.
But I can’t be that on my own.
It’s not by my own strength and will-power that I am a loving friend, good host, prophetic leader, bold evangelist. In fact, whenever I start thinking it IS by my own strength, I amazingly become really terrible at all of those things. Imagine that.
I am a freaking mess. Alone, without Jesus, I have little to offer anyone.
In Jesus, who I am is good enough, worthy enough, beautiful enough. But alone, outside of Him, independent from His grace, I am the messiest of messes.
So when I deny His grace, insisting on being a “self-made” woman, I deny the thing that gives me the most life; I reject the thing that keeps my heart beating in perfect rhythm.
I must live as a dependent victim of His abundant love for me; my every move dependent on His affections for me. I must surrender into all that He is in order to avoid these ginormous belly-flops of pride.
The second I think I can be who I am by my own will is the second I leave the diving board, plummeting stomach and face first into a completely still pool. I can rest assured that when I insist on a life run by my own strength, pain will soon follow.
It’s a backwards kingdom. The moment I surrender is the moment I become fully alive.