Those People

Pride…

It’s like wearing shoes that are too big.  You may think they fit…but they don’t.  Others may encourage us to keep wearing them. They sure look nice.

Daddy’s fancy shoes make us feel pretty grown-up…pretty special.

But we can’t walk too long before we trip, stumble and scrape our faces.

“Those people…”

We have HIM.  We have been redeemed.  We are HIS.

But are we really any different than “the others”.  Do we not have the same heart beat, the same blood that pumps every 860 milliseconds?  The same creator?  The same design?

Is not the only difference between “us” and “them” the knowledge of Christ?  The work of HIM who removed that satanic finger pointing us straight in the face.  That accusatory finger that blurs everything that is before us?

We aren’t any different.  Some of us just have the awareness of who made us…whose we are. Who we belong to.

We are transformed when we accept Him, when we accept what he did for us.  But we don’t “get better”…we simply get free…we get released. We don’t get less sick, we get perspective on our illness.  We finally understand the diagnosis.  That “lump” is finally explained.

It almost seems like we who known Him, we who call ourselves Christ followers need to continually convince ourselves that we are still sick.

“Those people”

Redemption isn’t perfection, it isn’t complete healing…it’s becoming awake to the rest of the story.

Matthew 7:5 says, “You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

Even when we remove that pressure treated 2×4, it’s still in our hand, and as humans we  jab it back in our eye every day.  We can’t help it.

Food, drink, sex, anger, jealously, pride…it’s a universal fit.

It has the same root.  A desire to “fill”… to “complete” … to “satisfy”.

Yet, satisfaction, pure satisfaction comes only in the awareness of what is offered to us…a release from the accusations.

God heals areas of our lives, but without that continued retinal irritation, we will forget our condition.

We will forget the diagnosis.

And then we become “those people” who try and help “the others”.

The momentary clarity we get when we are completely still is our only relief from that self inserted separation…until we get distracted.  Then we loose it.

That wood stuffed eye is a necessity to never forgetting our condition…our need for Christ.

Jesus, never remove every splinter, please, lest I forget why you came.

 

 

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