Oh, Lord, help me make my life count.
This week I have been in Phoenix as the representative for the City of Houston for the International Association of Civil Aviation Chaplains (www.iacac.ws), a group which I have been a member for twelve years. The association is comprised of multi-denominations from around the world—largely Europe. I met some wonderful people through the years from every Christian background imaginable and a few other faiths as well. Annually we convene, confer and worship on a different continent and in a different style church.
Seeing these great folks again this week reminds me of the breadth of God. It’s highly possible that we have 2×4 souls with 10×12 God. We cannot comprehend all of God, so it is pride ad infinitum to think we know all that God is doing or with whom He is doing it in the earth. Seeing others who find various entry points to God’s presence does not vaunt mine above theirs nor make one right and the other wrong. Had I been born to parents who worshiped steeped in liturgical circles I would doubtless use that road as my entryway to God. I happened to be born to a Pentecostal family, and I feel most comfortable approaching God in the manner in which I was raised, but familiarity does not equal Godly. A read prayer is no less heartfelt and powerful than an impromptu prayer. A recited prayer is no less Godly than singing a song you know from memory. To be filled with pride and elitism due to ones birth is the height of ignorance. Why should I be proud of something of which I had no part to play?
Yes, I am proud of my heritage, and yes, I am proud to be an American, and yes, I am proud to be Spirit-filled, but in all of these accounts I am thankful-proud, not pride-filled-proud. My heritage is just that—MY heritage. Others have their heritage and remain just as ebullient about theirs as I do about mine.
Oh, Lord, let me grow up to the full measure you desire me to be, and let my life count.