EMBARRASSED MUCH?

It was a lovely, sunny afternoon. A good friend of mine in high school was playing in a provincial tennis tournament. This guy was good. I took my place in the stands among a multitude of others looking forward to enjoying a competitive game on a gorgeous day. My friend was down on the tennis court practising some of his strokes before the big match. Suddenly, he notices me in the stands and motions for me to make my way down to him to exchange a few rallies before his official opponent arrives. Pretty neat stuff I say! Forget about pathetic name dropping and vague associations. Now this whole crowd of people was going to see that I was close friends with this tennis prodigy. Most excellent! I eagerly made my way down to the court and happily started enjoying some rallies with my popular friend. Nevermind that my tennis skills weren't worth blowing your nose with. I cared not. What mattered was that everyone was watching me being all casual and cozy with this provincial tennis star. Ah yes...life was indeed so good.

After a few minutes my friend suggests we change sides. No problem. At this point I found myself faced with a simple choice: To either walk around the net like a normal person and uneventfully make my way to the opposite end of the tennis court, or to take this opportunity to dazzle my friend and not to mention this significant crowd, by gracefully leaping over the aforementioned net to the sound of enthusiastic applause. The choice sold itself of course. A graceful leap was the only option. I poised myself as I watched my friend making his way around the tennis net like a clumsy neanderthal. I took a deep breath and bolted full speed toward it. I remember that landmark moment as if it was yesterday. A powerful leap commences, as does the smug smirk that accompanies it. A crowd watches enthralled as time slows to a crawl. Athleticism is showcased as... Hmmm, what's this? A slight hindrance imposes itself upon my elegantly trailing back foot? The very same back foot that entirely succeeds in getting itself tagged on the net line, catapulting this optimistic showman face first onto a tennis court. Just as he imagined, a roaring sound does erupt from a friend and a crowd. This sound is however unmistakably unlike the kind he was keen on invoking. And so there the disgraced little showman lies, intimately acquainted with the taste of dirt while hundreds of people belly-laugh at the top of their lungs...their jubilant exclamations filling the heavens for what felt like an eternity.

The recollection of that infamous exploit of mine always reminds me of what an exceptionally wise man said a few millenia ago. Something about how pride comes before a fall. And how fortunate I am to have such a vivid and personal image to remind me of those prudent words. Pride it turns out, is one subtle, sneaky and ever-present gremlin. Just when you've thought yourself to have conquered it, you find yourself feeling smug and proud about how humble you've become. It is perhaps the chief among all transgressions. It is the absolute polar opposite of who and what God Almighty has revealed Himself to be...love. Pride has no place in the presence of God, just as it should have no place in the hearts of those who seek and hope to be found in His presence. When the God-man Jesus Christ invaded time and space some 2000 years ago He turned the world on it's head, it's priorities upside down, and He showed the human heart the right side up. He displayed an eternal, unlimited and unchallenged power under the control of an unassuming and gentle force even more impressive and enchanting...a selfless, humble and Godly character. Humility it turns out, is not something self-deprecating or cowardly. It is not timid or weak. It is the recognition of the utter futility of having to prove oneself to anything or anyone, and the serene calm and confidence that comes from resting in the mighty arms of God. This God who Himself thought nothing of casting that might aside in order to reconcile the hearts of the broken and lowly to the heart of their Creator. We are not without a worthy example to follow.

NARROW IS THE ROAD...

Lately I've been feeling the squeeze. Now, there are of course pleasant forms of this phenomenon, but the one I refer to is less alluring. I recall the words of Jesus saying that the road to life is narrow, and that the way that leads to it is straight. Preparation to effectively navigate this kind of path involves a few things. It means I have to travel light...letting go of any unnecessary baggage that might hook on the surrounding clutter or shrubbery, and cause me to lose my pace or my footing. It means I have to be watchful of bandits and thieves who have an easy shot at assailing me. I need to remain ever mindful of the destination I'm pursuing, and of the path I'm on being the only sure way I have of reaching it. I need to resist the attraction of more spacious roads lined with every imaginable entertainment, company and distraction. The forces that seek to knock me of course are varied. Sometimes they arrive in the form of seduction with promises of satisfaction and pleasure. Other times they appear in the form of heartache, trial and tragedy that test my faith and commitment just the same. They all appeal to vanity, and they all lead to vice. Whether or not my symptoms are lust, greed, covetousness, bitterness, cynicism, doubt, rebellion...it matters little. The end result is identical. A life off course. A destiny missed. A purpose forfeit.

I find it so hard so often to do what I know to be right. I feel overwhelmed by my perceptions of what the Christian life requires of me. As if I've been given a task that I was not sufficiently equipped to complete. I feel dwarfed by the temptations and distractions of life...unable or unwilling to set my face like flint toward the face of Christ. I fatten myself with sin and compromise, doubt and stubbornness, and find the yoke I carry become exceedingly heavy as opposed to light as He promised. The road to life seems impossible to squeeze through, let alone to travel at all. I can only echo the words of the apostle Paul: "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!" In the end...it was, is and always will be God's grace. Yesterday, today and evermore...by the sustaining strength of His Spirit. I feel again the call to life. The call to nobility and integrity. The whisper of heaven defiantly persistent in the face of life's pressures...beckoning me on an adventure to pursue a Savior and Lord who requires and desires all I have and am, and who promises and offers all He has and is. A worthless, futile exchange? I think not. Oh by God's amazing grace...I think not!

THE MEASURE OF A MAN...

In his letter to the Hebrews, Paul wrote: "In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.". As disciples of Christ, our continuous quest should be the increasing transformation of our attitudes, characters, values and actions into the image of our Master and Lord. Salvation from sin was meant to inaugurate our entrance into the faith marathon of life, not as a laurel to be rested upon as if no further commitment was necessary. Christ is after Christ likeness in the hearts of His people. How do I as a believer embrace an accurate view of myself with regards to my spiritual maturity, and the health and genuineness of my faith. It's entirely possible, and even probable, that I can determine the substance of my faith by the size of the challenge, temptation or trial that overwhelms it. The pressures I cave into, are indications of the level to which my growth in Jesus has progressed.

If this is true, and I suspect that it is at least largely so, then it casts a serious indictment on the caliber of discipleship that I have allowed myself so often to become content with. I imagine there are numerous believers that are in a similar place. When I consider the pettiness and relative insignificance of some of the "trials" and "sufferings" that I allow myself to become angered, discouraged or disheartened over, I become overwhelmingly convinced of my need for a Savior. I become aware of the undeniable fact that I was never, ever going to muster up the moral fortitude to pull myself up by my own boot straps and become a better, nobler man. I was, am, and always will be, utterly dependent on the life transforming power and influence of the all powerful Spirit of the living God. And yet in the midst of my frailty, the tender mercy of the Father invites me to cast my cares upon Him, no matter how heavy or light the load...because He cares for me. What a wonderful thing. May He train my fingers for battle and my hands for war (Psalm 144:1). May he teach me how to surrender to his will...how to master the sin that crouches at my door. The sin that ever desires to slay me.