Bigger Than Meनमूना

Even though I’d been humbled, even though I’d seen the limits of my personal world view, the great lessons don’t take hold overnight. I still saw myself as a highly ambitious Type A overachiever, an aggressive business personality who would surely be one of the choicer weapons in heaven’s arsenal. Maybe it was something like that apostle Paul guy, and Africa was my road to Damascus. After all, Paul was a high achiever like me—a go-getter—and God had said, “I need this guy on my team! I’ll just zap him and put him at the front of the line.” As I returned home in 1993, I was a new man but still a little half-baked. More than I realized at the time, the jerk lived on. What it really came down to was this: I had the right intentions and the right heart, but I didn’t know Jesus. I only knew about Him.

I’d heard that sermon about Mary and Martha having Jesus over for dinner, how Martha raced through the house doing her chores as Mary sat at the Master’s feet. I took Martha’s side without having to think twice. Life is about getting things done. Besides, I’ve always been more comfortable going and doing. Sitting and soaking makes me a little crazy. It made perfect sense to me that God had plenty of Marys already. He needed a few more Marthas to keep the machinery running, and He’d chosen me.

But the time came when somehow the truth broke through even the thickness of my head, and I realized the presumption of believing God needed me to do anything at all. I realized He must be having a good laugh over my sense of personal value and self-importance. God doesn’t need me and most likely doesn’t need you either. That’s what makes Him God. To put it another way, it’s the perennial birthday question. What do you give the God who has everything? In my wiser moments, as one more layer of my foolishness was peeled away, I came up with an answer to that question. There was something I could give Him. The gift was so stunningly simple. Presence. I needed to be there wholly for Him. All my time, all my attention, all my devotion. I could understand this, because my own father’s presence had always meant more than any presents he could give me. He made himself completely available to me. And if my heavenly Father did the same, how else could I respond?