But the reason for this post is something that has been weighing on my mind a lot recently. I had been thinking about this subject for a few weeks, and this morning during my devotional-time I read something that mirrored it perfectly. I've been reading Max Lucado's Fearless, and if you are looking for a book to read I highly recommend this one. He touches on different subjects that we fear, and then blatantly states why God says we shouldn't fear but trust in him. Duh, right!? It makes sense.. but do we sometimes read the Bible and skim over verses that you've heard for years and don't take what you really should out of them? I do. All the time. And this book puts it back in a way that I can actually take, and think about, and apply to my actions and life that day.
So, the chapter "Fear of Not Mattering" opens up with a poem called The Villagers of Stiltsville (which reminds me a lot of a Shel Silverstein poem):
Perhaps you don't know,
then, maybe you do,
about Stiltsville, the village,,
(so strange but so true)
where people like we,
some tiny, some tall,
with jobs and kids
and clocks on the wall
keep an eye on the time.
For each evening at six,
they meet in the square
for the purpose of sticks,
tall stilts upon which
Stiltsvillians can strut
and be lifted above
those down in the rut:
the less and the least,
the Tribe of Too Smalls,
the not cools and have-nots
who want to be tall
but can't, because
in the giving of sticks,
their name was not called.
They didn't get picked.
Yet still they come
when the villagers gather;
they press to the front
to see if they matter
to the clique of the cool,
the court of high clout,
that decides who is special
and declares with a shout,
"You're classy!" "You're pretty!"
"You're clever" or "Funny!"
And bequeath a prize,
not medals or money,
not a freshly baked pie
or a house someone built,
but the oddest of gifts--
a gift of some stilts.
Moving up is their mission
going higher their aim.
"Elevate your position"
is the name of the game.
The higher-ups of Stiltsville
(you know if you've been there)
make the biggest to-do
of the sweetness of thin air.
They relish the chance
on their high apparatus
to strut on their stilts,
the ultimate of status.
For isn't life best
when viewed from the top?
Unless you stumble
and suddenly are not
so sure of your footing.
You tilt and then sway.
"Look out bel-o-o-ow!"
and you fall straightaway
into the Too Smalls,
hoi polloi of the earth.
You land on you pride-
oh boy, how it hurts
when the chic police,
in the jilt of all jilts,
don't offer to help
but instead take your stilts.
"Who made you king?"
you start to complain
but then notice the hour
and forget your refrain.
It's almost six!
No time for chatter.
It's back to the crowd
to see if you matter.
And there is the question: do we matter? We fear we don't, and so we do all sorts of things to prove that we do. We buy certain clothes or own certain possessions or drive certain cars to prove that we matter. Maybe a celebrity indorses it or wears it themselves. We want to own these things because someone, 'the court of high clout,' says we should and that we are somebody if we do. Connect yourself to smeone special and you become someone special, right? We calculate our significance in proportion to how many facebook friends we have, how many twitter followers or text messages we've recieved that day. Do you "mean something" if five people comment on your picture? Ten? Honestly, it sounds ridiculous but it's true!
And the worst of all, "the not cools and have-nots who want to be tall, but can't because in the giving of sticks, their name was not called. They didn't get picked." So what is it for you? What was your name not called for? For me it was skinny ankles and inner thighs. "OOOH, if I could just take a laser and cut my legs skinnier right HERE!" I used to think. And my ankels? Well, I always considered them "cankles." And I have a big nose. And a big mouth. I'm short and pale... and I could go on and on and on, listing things that I would change about myself. The things that I was not called for. My stilts were not given. Heck, I starved myself to sub 80 pounds when I was 19, all to fit in and be significant. We spend hunderds of dollars at the salon getting tan, bleaching our hair. Countless hours at the gym to get fit and toned, just so we can look 'right' in our expensive clothes. And what does that do? It tells God He's wrong.
My sweet therapist that I saw when I was overcoming my anorexia asked me;
"Does God make mistakes?"
Well, no, of course He doesn't! And so she said, "well, you were crafted in His image. You were His idea, and he only has great ones. So by starving yourself and going to other extremes so that you can be a certain way other than you were made... isn't that telling God that He made a mistake?"
Oh. My. Gosh. Tabloid magazines and websites tell us, "you need to be like this to be somebody." But God tells us "I love you how I made you!" Why question his judgement? According to him you were "skillfully wrought" (Ps. 139:15). You were "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Ps. 139:14). He can't stop thinking about you! If you could count his thoughts of you, " they would be more in number than the sand" (Ps. 139:18).
"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows" (Matt. 10:29-31).
'What's more inglorious than hair? Who inventoris follicles? We monitor other resources: the amount of money in the bank, gas in the tank, pounds on the scale. But hair on the skin? Not one ... We style hair, color hair, cut hair. But we don't count hair.
God does.'
And the worst of all, "the not cools and have-nots who want to be tall, but can't because in the giving of sticks, their name was not called. They didn't get picked." So what is it for you? What was your name not called for? For me it was skinny ankles and inner thighs. "OOOH, if I could just take a laser and cut my legs skinnier right HERE!" I used to think. And my ankels? Well, I always considered them "cankles." And I have a big nose. And a big mouth. I'm short and pale... and I could go on and on and on, listing things that I would change about myself. The things that I was not called for. My stilts were not given. Heck, I starved myself to sub 80 pounds when I was 19, all to fit in and be significant. We spend hunderds of dollars at the salon getting tan, bleaching our hair. Countless hours at the gym to get fit and toned, just so we can look 'right' in our expensive clothes. And what does that do? It tells God He's wrong.
My sweet therapist that I saw when I was overcoming my anorexia asked me;
"Does God make mistakes?"
Well, no, of course He doesn't! And so she said, "well, you were crafted in His image. You were His idea, and he only has great ones. So by starving yourself and going to other extremes so that you can be a certain way other than you were made... isn't that telling God that He made a mistake?"
Oh. My. Gosh. Tabloid magazines and websites tell us, "you need to be like this to be somebody." But God tells us "I love you how I made you!" Why question his judgement? According to him you were "skillfully wrought" (Ps. 139:15). You were "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Ps. 139:14). He can't stop thinking about you! If you could count his thoughts of you, " they would be more in number than the sand" (Ps. 139:18).
"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows" (Matt. 10:29-31).
'What's more inglorious than hair? Who inventoris follicles? We monitor other resources: the amount of money in the bank, gas in the tank, pounds on the scale. But hair on the skin? Not one ... We style hair, color hair, cut hair. But we don't count hair.
God does.'
Stiltsvillians still cluster,
and crowds still clamor,
but more stay away.
They seem less enamored
since the Carpenter came
and rufed to be stilted.
He chose low over high,
left the system tip-tilted.
"You matter already,"
he explained to the town.
"Trust me on this one,
Keep your feet on the ground."
and crowds still clamor,
but more stay away.
They seem less enamored
since the Carpenter came
and rufed to be stilted.
He chose low over high,
left the system tip-tilted.
"You matter already,"
he explained to the town.
"Trust me on this one,
Keep your feet on the ground."
He's enough, isn't He?
Great post Lindsey, You are so awesome and your words come straight from God's Lips.
ReplyDeleteThank you for being such an encouragement to me and others.
Thank YOU Sara!!
ReplyDeleteYOU are always so positive and uplifting!!