Layers. Screens. Painted facades signing praises to self. A gauntlet of personalities parading on the stage. An array of personas crafted for consumption. How do we escape this cirque de bizarre?
The wall of envy scrolls incessantly.
Like. Like. Like me please. Respond to my cry for recognition. I’m alone, and lost, and helpless. Looking for a friend. A friend. A friend.
Share. Share. Share me with others. I have thoughts too. I have ideas. I’m worthy of the world. I’m important. And significant. Am I not? Please tell me.
Appraised by a jello ruler is it any wonder we wander through days and even decades of internal crisis, waiting for an unstable world to affirm our security. Propped by passing trends and hoping for a moment’s relief we dive once again into the fray and post our updates, write our blog posts, sing our songs.
Measure. Measure. Measure. Money. Fame. Fortune. Followers. Clouds of fickle witnesses gather and then dissipate like vapor on a warm day. Yesterday’s news carries you downstream as more appealing posts and pictures swallow your moment’s majesty.
We tell ourselves it doesn’t matter. Who cares who listens, who likes, who buys? But we all know that’s not true. We do care. We care a lot.
Greater powers are at work here.
The desire to be noticed and recognized. To realize our value. To come out of hiding. To brave an audience and present our humanity.
The cry for a father to affirm. A mother to embrace. A peer to applaud.
All too often our vulnerable cries have been slapped down. Told to be quiet, or passed over for the next in line. Our cultivations and creations have been royally despised, or worst of all ignored. The dent we want to make in the world seems less than an invisible scratch.
And then, through the haze, light emerges. A hand reaches out and takes your own.
“Child” the kindly voice invites. “Don’t be moved and measured by this world or this age. Take your cues from the One who made you.”
God’s joyful voice breaks through the deafening noise and clamor of modernity with His ancient calling to intimacy and significance. Not based on reactions.
Heart. Heart. Heart.
The only commentary is His embrace.
He reaches over, unplugs the relentless barrage, and points.
The sky is blue. Grass green. Trees reach for the heavens. Birds swoop and sing. Cool breeze carrying scent. Blossoms open and shed their colorful love with abandon.
“If I care for the birds, will I not much more care for you?”
A new day dawns and mercies spring forth.
“I love you, son. I love you daughter.”