I talk too much. This is and always has been a character flaw and an occupational hazard. Preachers often find themselves in positions where people look to them to say something and we feel that we must have exactly the right words to say--to comfort, to explain, to heal. Other times I say things I oughtn't...words to harm, to maim, to hurt.
I would love to say that I talk...or that I try to talk...to show respect to God and to show guidance in all things. But to say that would be to lie and to misuse even more words.
The truth of the matter is that I talk too much because I am prideful. I think my words mean more than they should or that people should hold them more in respect. I have studied the Bible, I say to myself, surely people should want to hear what I have to say about "_____________". Or I may think, "well I have the answer to this, because I know about _____________" and I am frustrated that people won't take my advice. This is pride, vanity....foolishness.
In the past couple of years, I have tried to be more intentional about listening, about not speaking up and not interjecting my own point of view, my opinion and my suggestions. By doing this, I hopefully can learn from others and see insights into life I have never seen before and learn to put others before myself.
And this brings us to Lent.
Lent is that time of the year, when we try to force ourselves into putting ourselves second....or even third. It is that time of the year when we try to discipline our bodies into submitting to a more normal and rational diet of life. It is that time of the year when we are confronted face to face with the love of God poured out on the cross.
For me, one of the major forgotten heroes of the Christian Church is John the Baptist. John was clearly a popular preacher, a model for what mainly preachers (including myself) search for. He was so popular, people came to him from hundreds of miles around. Not only this, they came to hear what miserable sinners they were and how they needed to get right with God. I can only imagine if God had blessed me with a ministry like that what I could. Imagine the small groups we could establish and the books we could write (I can almost see the campaign "40 Days of Repentance"), and the youth ministries we could establish. But John does none of this.
In fact, John wastes a great opportunity. Some people came to him and asked if he were the prophet. John replies with a hearty "NO!" and says that there was another person coming. Later on, when Jesus was gaining in popularity and his followers came to him and complained to John, The Baptist replied with one of the greatest statements in all of Scripture:
"He must increase, but I must decrease." John 3:30
In that one sentence, John captures the essence of Lent, which is the essence of the Christian life.
I must decrease--these words are the opposite of what my prideful nature says to me. In fact, my pride tells me the opposite of this statement: that I must follow the path of Nietzsche and do everything in my power to increase in my life. I must increase my dominance over myself, over others, over nature. I should not and ought not to say 'no' to myself and I should have everything that I could possibly desire.
But no truer words have been spoken than that I must decrease. I must decrease my desires. I must decrease my exertion over other people and I should seek to dominate control over my own life. I am not important.
He must increase--the path to the cross begins with these words. It is the place of Jesus that must increase. The will and desires of Jesus must begin to control my heart and my life. My time must be spent not on my desires, but Jesus' desires must become my desires. Instead of exerting my control over others, I must desire to serve and to love others by whatever means possible. Instead of seeking to spend my time on my own pleasures, I need to seek His.
Jesus himself teaches us this by example. He willingly came to serve those who did not love him. He came to die for those who did not know Him. He purposely chose the cross to appease the wrath of God in our place.
At a Bible study recently, a woman came up with a powerful observation. In discussing communion, she was struck by Jesus words, recited every week at the Eucharist: "This is my body, given for you." She said, when Jesus says that to us, and we accept, we say the same thing back to Him, "This is my body, given to you." This is not in the sense of of a saving death, but an acknowledgement that we must decrease but He must increase in our lives.
And so the Road to the Cross begins with an understanding that we must give up. We must give up our pride, and we must give up on exalting ourselves. The Road to the Cross is the Road to Humility, and there is no better time to start on that road than the season of Lent.
What is humility? Humility is to look on oneself as dust and
ashes. The humble says, "Who am I? And who considers me to be anything?
Who am I to deal with people for I am powerless?" He does not say,
"What" or "What is this?" but walks submissively in his
ways, never deeming himself equal to others. And if he is despised and rejected
he does not get angry.
Humility is to hold oneself as guilty and to find that one has done nothing
good before God. It is to maintain silence, looking on oneself as nothing. It
is to reject one's inclinations, to look down to the ground, bearing death
before his eyes., safeguarding himself from lying. It consists in not speaking,
falsehood or arguing with someone who is older than you are, enduring insults
joyfully, detesting comfort and training oneself in hardship, never distressing
anyone.
~ St. Abba Isaiah
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