For years I’ve been fondling a golden statue in my pocket like a chess piece. It has certain dimensions and a particular weight. Crafted with precision, the sleek, bulge-free outside is rubbed clean of smudges. And when I lift it out of my pocket it sprays sunbeams and stardust all over the room. Everyone stares. It’s perfect.
This golden idol is me. Rather, its the image of the me I want to be.
Every year I write and rewrite a list of goals to help shape me into this image. Yet, no one would argue that feeding my body nutritious food and exercising is healthy. Bible study plans aren’t synonymous with pagan worship practices. And New Year’s resolutions or re-solutions can provide refreshing challenges to our lives.
But if my motivation behind these goals is to create an image of a gorgeous, healthy, perfect Christian, I will be disappointed.
This fantasy of me is the ultimate ruse: an ideal body weight, superfun career goals, and even daily goals drafted to formulate the perfect me. I’m tricked into thinking I need to focus on all this self improvement and squeeze myself into a certain size and shape. But God doesn’t want us seduced by this phony-god-image.
.
The truth is we’ll fail to meet her standards. Often. And each failure will dip us into guilt. So we’ll try harder. Yet each success only dispenses a temporary high. Because this stone cold god is never satisfied.
So if my attention is aimed on this shiny image of me instead of Him, the poverty in me captivates my heart and mind more than the perfectness of God. I feel the dull ache of lack, and the hunger pangs of wanting. And a damp cloudiness of failure hovers in the background of my entire life.
My puny god has failed me.
The reality is we need disciplines in our lives. I have many. But sometimes I have to abandon those disciplines for a time and let God come find me again. I just stop. Stop praying, stop dieting, and stop trying so dang hard.
I’ve been running after the wrong god. So I turn away from all my hustling. I lay myself out figuratively or literally before God, and let go of longing for that perfect image of myself.
As a result, that pathetic, pint-sized deity plunges off her pedestal and His awesomeness begins to consume me again. He bows through the atmosphere of heaven and kneels down beside me. Tenderness and strength pulse through the space surrounding us. Within the whir of His presence I hear Him exhale His love song over my tired heart. His war ready arms reach out with the gentleness of a mother. And I just hug Him again.
I didn’t realized how much we missed each other.
Redirecting our Worship
The first two commandments in the list of ten weren’t written by a narcissistic God who needs our adoration. (Exodus 20:3-4) It was written by an adoring Parent who knows what we need to keep our life, our joy, and our purposes in perspective.
Look at the perfectness of Me. Let it dwarf your insecurities and your fears. Let Me take care of it. When you worship Me and Me alone you will see how capable I Am. Worship chaperones you into rest. It blankets you in peace. Come behold Me and let Me hold you, my love. Watch as I create amazing things in your life that you would never believe had I told you in advance. Come, my love, sit here, behold Me and truly see.”
Do you need to redirect your worship too?
Here’s some things I’ve tried.
- Whenever I start to think of an idol, I use it as a trigger to worship God.
- Sometimes a “Help me, God” prayer is all I can muster.
- When I notice the scale or body image failure darkening my day, I sing my own made up song or find a worship song on YouTube
A few songs from my playlist.
All I need to do is Worship, by Rita Springer
Came to my Rescue, by Hillsong
Endless Alleluia, feat. Stephanie Gretzinger
Worth it All, by Rita Springer
“Just come back to Me today.” He says. “I’m only a glance away.”
No other gods, only Me. (Exodus 20:3 MSG)
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