Look What I Can Do!

Two of my children are 3 and 4 years old.  Sometimes I think their favorite phrase at this age is, "Hey, mom, look what I can do!"  From jumping down the stairs two-at-a-time, to drinking down the last half of a milk cup in one gulp, to dribbling a basketball for 3 seconds... it's all praiseworthy and fun as they're learning all the new things they can do - whether or not anyone else thinks those things are particularly cool or interesting.  Last night after Austin's basketball game, they ran out onto the floor to show off their own basketball skills.  Levi shot baskets, and Violet bounced a ball - both shouting the usual, "Look what I can do!" to passersby.  

I am going to "date myself" with this next paragraph and appeal to some of you Gen Xers to recall with me a skit from MADtv.  There was a "little boy" named Stuart (who was played by a grown man, of course) and his mother who had a big hairdo, built in shoulder pads, and a shameless Wisconsin accent.   She always called him, "Styert".  Stuart had a way of trying to show off to strangers by saying, "Hey, look what I can do," which he would follow with some totally random and unimpressive antic meant to impress.  I can't help but think of this skit every time the two little ones say, "Look what I can do!"  In fact, from time-to-time I like to show off for Mark with some type of odd, random antic and shout, "Hey, honey, look what I can do!"

"Look what I can do," might be a phrase that is isolated to children.  However, it is a concept that is perpetuated to the point of perfection by us adults.  From Facebook, to blogs, to tweets, we love to show everyone all the "good things" we can do or all the brilliant things we know.  I am not pointing any fingers, see... I am so guilty.  I like to show off things I make and things I do.  In fact, motives unclear to myself half the time, I am ironically doing it right now.  I tell myself that I blog for me, and that is partially true, but I'll post it to the internet, and I'll link it from Facebook like always, and I'll hope that a few people read it and think about it too.  

My pride is an ugly thing, and God has been making it so blasted clear to me these past two weeks, to the point of overwhelming me with it.  So I've humbled myself and learned to just let God figure all these tough issues out for me and defend me and help me, right??  WRONG.  I only wish that were true, but seems to have only made me more aware of it - not stopped it.  From the overflow of my ugly heart, my ugly mouth speaks.  That's one Facebook status you won't see me post, but that's not because it isn't true, but because everyone who would comment on it would try to convince me that it wasn't true - that I'm not a rotten sinner... that deep down I'm a really good person.  They are my "friends", after all, right?  But I know better about me.  I like to think I'm decent, but then I see me in action and realize that, much to my own dismay, I'm not.  

We like to think that we should be able to take pride in what we do... that it is good to take pride in yourself and your abilities, etc.  It's fine to brag, and, as I mentioned in a FB status a few weeks back, it's a societal norm that's infiltrated something as simple as greeting cards.  I can't stand to read most cards anymore, because they go on and on about wonderful, sweet, perfect ME.  I go to buy a card for a loved one and who is the card about?  ME.  "Dear Mom, Thanks for supporting me, seeing the best in me, being there for me when I needed you, and lifting me up when I was weak, because - let's face it - we both know what a fantastically amazing and remarkable person I am and how much I deserve to be lifted up... after all, who got you this card??  ME, that's who... Happy Birthday to the person who gave birth to ME!  Love Always and Best Wishes, Me"  Okay, prone to exaggeration might be in bold print on my dossier, but you get my drift here, right?  

In the midst of my God-given smackdown this week (and it's barely halfway over), my attention has been drawn to one thing.  Look what I can do?  

LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!

God vs. Us style:

ME:  I can have a new body in 6 weeks with my new diet/exercise program!  

GOD:  I can have a new body in 3 days and save the whole human race in the process.

ME:  Look what I made!

GOD:  Look what I made.

ME:  Look how much I love my kids!

GOD:  Look how much I love your kids.

This list could go on for longer than I have before it's way past my bedtime, but the bottom line is this verse that keeps coming to my mind:  In John 15:5, Jesus says, "I am the vine.  You are the branches.  He who abides in me and I in him, he bears much fruit.  For apart from me, you can do nothing."  Yet, despite the nothing I can do apart from Him, to my shame, I do a whole lot of nothings apart from Him, none of it amounting to anything and so much more of it causing undue trouble and stress for myself and others.  This thing called life is not about us, but we try everything within (and without) our human power to make it about us, even though it renders us completely ineffective.  The moment I've bragged about something, it's made me ridiculous.  The moment pride has reared it's ugly head, it's made me a fool.

This past evening, Levi (whom we've been weaning from naps lately) was interrupted from "working out" on the eliptical trainer by his sister who wanted to "take his picture" with a Viewmaster.  He was annoyed enough (and perhaps sleep-deprived enough) to jump off the eliptical, approach his sister and push the Viewmaster into her eyes - causing her to cry.  Having been in the bathroom during the whole time this occurred, I got this story second-hand from Mark and the other kids.  After Mark told him he must apologize, he refused and ran to his room, slamming the door, and carrying on like a madman about the injustices of the world and his particular situation.  He received discipline for his actions and was told he must apologize to his sister, which he (reluctantly and after much coaching) eventually did. The funny part of this story to me was that when we took food to my grandparents tonight at their home, he sat at their kitchen table and confessed the whole of the situation to the entire table of people.  He admitted to hitting his sister in the eye with the Viewmaster, and making her cry and then he said, "And I wouldn't say I was sorry, and I got mad and mad and ran to my room and then (higher pitched, as if he couldn't believe his own actions) I slammed the door, and then I threw a big, BIG fit!"  My grandpa tried to suppress a grin and a snicker as he listened intently to the story.  Levi said, "I was being so bad, and mom and dad both told me I needed to say sorry."  His confession was sweet to hear - as if he couldn't believe the way he had acted and that, despite the fact I doubt he was remorseful at the time he apologized, he seemed to truly be at that moment.  The best part about this story was the true confession - big, ugly tantrum and all - was something he felt he wanted to share.  Pride gone and glad of it, he bared his soul, and it seemed to be freeing for him.  


This type of honesty could revolutionize my facebook posts.  I can just see them now:


"Marinated a steak for my amazing husband's birthday and then gave him the silent treatment because he didn't appreciate all the trouble I went to."


"Spent the day adoring my wonderful children and then avoided eye contact with an acquaintance at Walmart, because I didn't feel like making conversation."  


"Learned some amazing new truths at Bible study and then went home and ate chocolate chip cookies and milk in the bathtub because I was feeling sorry for myself."


"Ran 8 miles on my eliptical trainer and topped it off with that quart of ice cream I've been hiding in the outside freezer after everyone went to bed tonight."

I hear complaints all around me that are well-founded.  What's wrong with the church?  It's full of ME.  What's wrong with the world?  It's full of ME.  What's wrong in the universe?  It's populated by billions of galaxies in the midst of which is one which has a tiny, little planet that is populated by people like ME.  Why should we look at other people on earth in exasperation at how not good they are?  They're in our same predicament - sin.  Why should we come to church expecting people to be good and act righteously?  We're all in the same predicament - sin.  And all too often, the One who could help us act right is the One we don't ask for help.  

On the list of the things God hates, what made the top of the list?  #1?  The most hated thing?  Pride.  (Proverbs 6:16, Proverbs 8:13) When I look at the photos above, it's rightly obvious to me one of the reasons God hates it when we're proud.  Because we have no basis for it!  The things I can make and do in comparison to the things He has made and done (including making the person who can make and do the other things)?  It is a non-comparison - a laughable comparison.  I have no basis for feeling proud of myself - what I've written, what I've accomplished, what I've made - when I consider what He has written, what He has accomplished, and what He has made.  It's like taping a finger painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  Have you ever seen someone try to strut his/her stuff when they have no stuff to strut?  How does it make you feel?  Do you pitty that person?  Do you laugh?  Do you feel embarrassed for that person?  How much more would you feel this way if you were the stuff?  If you were the glue that holds the universe together, how would you feel about your creation hanging its pittiful self out to brag.   Yet, as sickeningly ridiculous as that would be, I don't think that's what angers God the most about pride.  Like most sin, I think He hates that it hurts us and that we use it to hurt each other.  And despite all of this, He loves us anyway.  There are a lot of remarkable things that we all see on a daily basis, but what is the most remarkable is that the God of the universe would care for you and for me.