When I Said Your Glory, Not Mine. . .did I mean it?

Y’all, it’s honesty time. Something came up in the past few days where I should’ve gotten credit and didn’t. It wasn’t even a big deal. But as soon as I realized that everyone was going to be celebrating something without knowing that I was the sweet, caring, eloquent, thoughtful, spiritual one behind it, a little bitterness surfaced in my heart. It didn’t take me very long to realize the bitterness was actually insecurity.

Insecurity, that sneaky thing, has crept up a lot on me lately. I’ll write more about the feelings of inadequacy that have come up later, but long story short I’ve been letting some of the events in my life affect the way I view my value. I just wanted to be recognized because my heart has been searching for proof that I am enough, that I am worth loving. I’m humbled (and hurt) to admit this, but I think it’s why, at least subconsciously, I haven’t been as faithful in praying for others as I have been in the past. I’ve been seeking things that have the potential to give me validation – wanting to be seen listening to people in public places or writing them signed notes. Anonymous letters and times in intercession aren’t seen, and if they aren’t seen, I can’t be praised for them. If I can’t be praised for them, they can’t affirm my identity. And I need my identify affirmed. . .

. . .when I’m not returning to a place of security in Jesus. Ouch.

But it’s in this place, as I look into the windows of my soul, seeing the brokenness and insecurity that so often creeps back in, I come to find, yet again, that He is enough. As my flesh continues to demand other lovers to appease its pride, my soul fights to be known in Christ alone. Because when I see that my God is enough, I realize that, in His eyes, so am I. I don’t have to prove to Jesus that I’m worth loving; He simply loves me with an everlasting love that will overwhelm my weary soul (Jeremiah 31:2-5). That is, if I’ll let it.



So, I say this to everyone out there fighting the fleshly pride welling up inside. . .

To the one who has spent hours on your knees in prayer, knowing those you were lifting up will never see the tears, the words, or the time. . .know that He heard you and His heart was moved.

To the one who has sent anonymous letters or provision in an act of obedience, knowing that it will not be credited to your identity nor be fuel praise. . .know that He is pleased with you.

To the one who enters into one-sided relationships with both grace, knowing you’ll always give more than you receive and rarely see fruit from your investment. . .know that He lavishes even greater grace upon you.

To the one who chooses to do thankless jobs with joy, knowing that your labor, sacrifice, and heart will never be recognized. . .know that He saw you with delight.

To the one who chooses to die to self, even if it means going unnoticed, unthanked, and unappreciated. To the one who prefers others, even when it means letting personal dreams die. To the one who doesn’t fight insecurity with pride or seek validation from praise, but rather seeks security in the love of Christ.  To the one who prays “all the glory and honor to You alone, Lord” with a humility and honesty that cannot be mustered by any human strength.

To you I say thank you. Thank you for being the hands and feet of Jesus. Thank you for depending more on Him than you do on your own ability to be faithful. Thank you for every prayer, tear, letter, job, and care. Thank you for daily choosing to become more like Jesus and less like your flesh.

I may not see it. You don’t always see me.

But that’s actually the best news because it means that He alone does. He increases, we decrease. He gets the glory. Forever and ever, amen.

 “Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God” 2 Corinthians 3:4-5

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