“Share to me. Papa, share to me. Please!”

In our efforts to instill the good value of sharing with others into our boy, my wife and I are finding humor in the twist and turn that his reasoning has journey towards. Other than the fact that his grammar is wrong, my little 3-year-old has managed to reshape what it means to “share”. Rather than going around sharing things (i.e. his toys, his games, his food…well…food is a different story, given he hates the thought of eating), the young chap goes around asking people to share their things (i.e. their toys, their games, their food…well…food is a different story, given he hates the thought of eating) with him.

He’s even known to put down his Toy Story 3 Lego blocks to hound the next kid for his exact Toy Story 3 Lego blocks.

I love the little dude, but I can’t help but think about his selfishness and its freakishly weird parallel to the paradigm that is human vanity.

Daniel 4 narrarates the acknowledgment of Nebuchadnezzar’s selfishness and vanity, as well as his turn from prosperity into the humbling hands of God. I guess typical of kings, but this ruler had a gigantic statue errected in his honor and forced people to worship it whenever his band would play their ditty. Those who chose not to bow down to the golden mountain were ordered to the furnace.

What strikes me most about this recount is where Nebuchadnezzar came from. Sure, God did His thing at humbling the selfish man and restored him to sanity. That, alone, is worth blogging about. But I can’t side step the fact the we’re no different than the king’s former life. What’s even more disturbing is the American church and, perhaps, the church at large is no different. We think about ourselves first and how we can get ours. We wonder how we can rise up the ranks at our jobs, so we can get those fat raises. Our churches constantly brainstorm the best tactics at filling the pews, rather than filling the streets with love and compassion. We contemplate ways to improve our looks and dress code, rather than embracing our neighbors and finding out what their needs are. Sunday mornings are about tightening up the sound quality of the music, rather than sharing the beautiful melodic Gospels to the communities who have been deafened to the beautiful melodic Gospels by said church.

The irony is: I’m a part of all that.

It kills me that I am a part of all that. I’m paralyzed just thinking that I’m as selfish as the next person. My breath holds still for moments on end just thinking that I’m a pastor who is concerned about the sound quality of music during our Sunday morning services.

For Nebuchadnezzar, God had to take everything away from him in order for him to come to his senses. I hope and pray that my destiny doesn’t follow the king’s demise.

Here’s to a good kick in the butt.


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