My dreams of grandeur, and a Savior who is grand

As a kid, like many kids, I had dreams of grandeur.

Ah, to be really great at something.

I picked up the electric guitar in middle school because I wanted to be a girl who could shred.

I took lessons from a gentle, long-haired man who loved classic rock and taught me Purple Haze and some Stevie Ray Vaughan licks.  Even today, that’s about all I remember on the guitar, which makes it appear like I know more about the instrument than I actually do.

Me in 8th grade. Oh, that haircut.  And those baggy jeans.                   It was 1995!

I loved the idea of being a gold-medal winning Olympian.

a poster of Janet Evans hung inspirationally on my wall above my proud display of swim team ribbons

Once upon a time, I was speedy, agile, and fairly athletic.  The Presidential Fitness Test in P.E.? – all. over. it.  I reveled in trying to beat some of the boys.  “Bring on the shuttle run,” I’d say to myself.

And then I turned 13, and just like that (sigh), my glory years were behind me.

While I still played sports through high school, I had more heart than actual skill (Ru-dy!  Ru-dy! – slow clap). I played mediocrely on a mediocre basketball team.  And in track and cross-country, knowing I wouldn’t come in first place, I set my sights on the lofty goal of just not being last.  I was content in the middle of the pack.  First place ribbons in swimming became increasingly rare.

Nonetheless, I still enjoyed the camaraderie of being on a team, working towards a common goal.  And I loved the challenge and the physical activity.  Coaches liked me because I had a positive attitude.  But grandeur was not to be had.  I was so….average.  Maybe I didn’t work hard enough during the off seasons or maybe I just wasn’t blessed with the amount of natural ability I would have liked.  Probably both.

Nonetheless, I tend to think that God protected me from myself, knowing that my pride couldn’t handle any more than a modest amount of success, success that nobody cares about or will remember.

I always marveled at other kids who did experience greater successes and didn’t seem to get bigheaded about it.  I imagine that, as a teenager, to be a bigger success in itself.

While I think on excellence and diligence and hard work and honed skill  – all good things that can bring God glory and that shouldn’t be set aside for wishful thinking, I also think on the fact that no matter how great or not great I am considered in this world, my soul is helpless and damned without Jesus, my Savior and Redeemer.

How I depend on His strength and righteousness, because I have none of my own.

Over time, I have grown/am growing/hope to continue to grow into seeing myself less and less as an aspiring great person and more and more as a dependent person on Jesus.

To focus on who Jesus is for me, instead of who I am for Him.  This thinking transforms me and interestingly gives me great joy.

For in Him, we live and move and have our being. – Acts 17:28