It amazes me how the simplest thing can humble us. Sometimes it’s one compliment from a
stranger, other times it’s a meaningful conversation with the closest of
friends. And it seems like there’s
different degrees of humility that typically go unnoticed. There’s humility that breaks us to our core
and challenges the very soul of who we are.
There’s humility that breaks only the surface, but it’s the humility
that though a scratch, still has the potential of ruining us.
Yet there’s also humility that doesn’t do either. It just stares us in the eye. For me, this kind of humility does the most
damage to who I am. It haunts me for
not one fleeting moment, but even for years on end. But it is this simplicity that wrecks me for the better.
I have the blessing of sharing my life with dozens of men
that I don’t even know much of every week.
These men are phenomenal and endure so much. Their resilience and their faith astound me. It makes me look like a wuss – probably
because I am. But I find it interesting
that the spiritual giants of the world aren’t who we would typically expect,
they’re the ones who live their lives in the gutters, in the dirt, in the
temp-jobs, bars, and most unlikely of places.
They’re the ones who go completely unnoticed week-in and week-out.
A few Sundays ago I was sitting on a park bench talking with
a few of these ‘spiritual giants’. It
just happened to be freezing outside. I
just happened to complain about it.
Then I received a response that was almost like a whisper because I
chose to not hear as much of it as I could.
One of these guys said, “yeah, it got pretty cold last night,” and he
just stared at me.
Ouch.
Last night I had another unlikely experience. I was asked by one of my good friends to
help him lead worship at his youth group.
I love having the opportunity to lead others in such an amazing thing
that’s more than words can even express, so I jumped at the offer. After worship, the high schoolers started
asking me all kinds of questions about this crazy mission trip I’m going
on. I answered them as best as I could
with a 15-minute monologue and heresy.
I guess I like the sound of my voice too much.
But Parker did the unexpected. This, what I’ve learned to be not-so-average-18-year-old, had
everyone surround me, lay their hands on me, and pray.
Talk about powerful.
Talk about humbling.
I don’t know if you’ve ever had 40-some teenagers laying
their hands on you and praying for you, but it’s an experience that I cannot
even put into words. It’s merely one that
humbles a person. Imagine having 40 of
society’s biggest nuisances lifting you into God’s care and protection, praying
that you’re enabled to do His ministry successfully. To have the blessing of such a rag-tag bunch of youth merely makes
me smile. It makes my heart rejoice.
And it makes me think that we run into Jesus in the most
unexpected places. Sometimes it’s on
the street, sometimes it’s in a troubled youth, sometimes it’s our own
reflection in the mirror. But I think
that each time we run into Christ, we’re somehow reminded of our need to make
ourselves humble. I’m one of the most proud people I know, but this is one of the things that God’s been teaching me a lot lately. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it just stares me in the face.
