It's Not About Me - Max Lucado [19]
“This is a Monet,” he would say and move back as people oohed and aahed and asked a question or two. When they were ready, he would lead them to the next masterpiece and repeat the sequence. “This is the work of Rembrandt.” He stepped back; they leaned in. He stood; they stared.
Simple job. Delightful job. He took great pride in his work.
Too much pride, one might say. For in a short time, he forgot his role. He began thinking the people had come to see him. Rather than step away from the work of art, he lingered near it. As they oohed and aahed, he smiled. “Glad you like it,” he replied, chest lifting, face blushing. He even responded with an occasional “thank you,” taking credit for work he didn’t do.
Visitors disregarded his comments. But they couldn’t dismiss his movements. Lingering near a painting was no longer sufficient for the guide. Little by little he inched toward it. Initially extending his arm over the frame, then his torso over part of the canvas. Finally his body blocked the entire piece. People could see him but not the art.The very work he was sent to reveal he began to conceal.
That’s when his Superior intervened.“This job isn’t about you, Max. Don’t obscure my masterpieces.”
How many times has he had to remind me? The very first time I was called to display a painting, I was tempted to eclipse it.
The request came when I was twenty. “Can you address our church youth group?” We aren’t talking citywide crusade here. Think more in terms of a dozen kids around a West Texas campfire. I was new to the faith, hence new to the power of the faith. I told my story, and, lo and behold, they listened! One even approached me afterward and said something like, “That moved me, Max.” My chest lifted, and my feet shifted just a step in the direction of the painting.
I BELIEVE SATAN TRAINS
BATTALIONS OF DEMONS
TO WHISPER ONE
QUESTION IN OUR EARS:
“WHAT ARE PEOPLE
THINKING OF YOU?”
God has been nudging me back ever since.
Some of you don’t relate. The limelight never woos you. You and John the Baptist sing the same tune: “He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less” (John 3:30 NLT). God bless you. You might pray for the rest of us. We applause-aholics have done it all: dropped names, sung loudly, dressed up to look classy, dressed down to look cool, quoted authors we’ve never read, spouted Greek we’ve never studied. For the life of me, I believe Satan trains battalions of demons to whisper one question in our ears: “What are people thinking of you?”
A deadly query.What they think of us matters not.What they think of God matters all. God will not share his glory with another (Isaiah 42:8). Next time you need a nudge away from the spotlight, remember: You are simply one link in a chain, an unimportant link at that.
Don’t agree? Take it up with the apostle.“So the one who plants is not important, and the one who waters is not important. Only God, who makes things grow, is important” (1 Corinthians 3:7 NCV, emphasis mine).
Remember the other messengers God has used?
A donkey to speak to Balaam (Numbers 22:28).
A staff-turned-snake to stir Pharaoh (Exodus 7:10).
He used stubborn oxen to make a point about reverence and a big fish to make a point about reluctant preachers (1 Samuel 6:1-12; Jonah 1:1-17).
God doesn’t need you and me to do his work. We are expedient messengers, ambassadors by his kindness, not by our cleverness.
It’s not about us, and it angers him when we think it is. Jesus has a stern warning for gallery guides who eclipse his work.
When you do something for someone else, don’t call attention to yourself. You’ve seen them in action, I’m sure—“playactors” I call them—treating prayer meeting and street corner alike as a stage, acting compassionate as long as someone is watching, playing to the crowds.They get applause, true, but that