Hypocrite

I am about to deliver my first sermon tomorrow. I was supposed to deliver it two weeks ago, but our young adults group was snowed out both last week and the week before. I was confident those two weeks, confident in the sermon, in my ability to present it, and in myself.

This weekend changed all that. I now feel like a hypocrite for saying what I'm going to say. The message is about how to change. Tomorrow will be about the ways we fail to change, and then next week will be the true reason we fail and how to actually start a real change in our hearts. (I had to condense a three-week series to two weeks due to the cancellations.) I feel like a hypocrite because this weekend revealed to me that I hadn't changed as much as I thought I had. I'm still me. I still struggle with things that I know in my head should be given over to God, that are senseless for me to worry about and impossible for me to do anything about.

And maybe this is the best thing that could have happened for the series. I say that not only because it will make me rely on God and God alone for the delivery of the message, but it adds a strong element of honesty to it. I have the changes that have happened, thank God, but my idealistic "I'm all better now" facade that I've lied to myself with has been put away...at least for the time being.

What this weekend should have done for me is give me more compassion for those who also struggle to change. It has a little, but mostly, it fed my anger and self-hatred. Why? Because I haven't changed as much as I had thought. My heart is still mostly what it was. I still base my happiness on what others think of me and focus on all the negatives that I perceive. I still base my self-image on what I can or can't do and it kills me because it's never enough...it's never going to be enough.

I was proud of a change that had I had not accomplished and that has not been completed yet. Maybe that's why God let the other meetings be canceled, because He wanted me to be reminded of my dependence on Him in my heart and not just my head. Whatever the case, I am happy that I went through this weekend. It's good sometimes to be reminded just how easily we can become our own biggest enemies and roadblocks.

Namaste

I have a friend and former coworker from India. She recently wrote a blog entry about the real meaning of "Namaste." If you've ever done yoga, you've probably heard of this pose or had the instructor say it to you on your way out. I just started yoga as part of the P90X program, but I didn't know what it meant. It means, "In you I see the divine."

As a non-Christian, my friend embraced this concept, that there's something divine in all of us, from a child's smile to a stranger's tears to our dreams about our destiny. I got to thinking about whether I can agree with this as a Christian.

On the one hand, I'm not divine. I'm a sinner. I'm not worthy of worship, nor am I perfect. The definition of divine I usually go with is being God-like or proceeding directly from God and being holy and pure. That definition doesn't really describe any of us, does it?

And yet, the Bible says God created us in His image. We have our emotions, inherent sense of justice, ability to love (even though ours is impure), and free will from Him. Moreover, 1 Peter 1:16 commands us, "Be you holy, as I am holy." We're supposed to become more Christlike as we draw closer to God, not in any sense that we become worthier of worship, but that we become examples to others of God's love for them. When people see us, they see the change Jesus has worked through us.

In my friend's blog, this divinity was based on who the person was and not the Creator. Should we not be trying, though, to make that a true statement when people look at us, "In you I see the Divine"? In you, I see the love of God. In you, I see an example of what God wants people to be. Namaste.