John 5:41

"I do not seek honor from men."

One of the greatest struggles of my soul is seeking the honor of men. I love their praise, I love their accolade, I love their honor. I want, if I'm honest with myself, more than anything else to be uplifted in the eyes of men. I want others to know me, to speak highly of me, to desire me, and to remember me. I want to do things that draw attention to my "greatness". This, among all other sins I could possibly commit, is perhaps the ugliest and the most heinous against God. This because He demands all honor, glory and praise, and will not share His honor with any other (cf. Isaiah 42:8). I grieve myself. I hate myself for this. And what amazes me this morning as I type this journal entry is that Jesus, who deserved the honor of men more than any other to ever live (I mean, after all, He was fully divine [cf. Hebrews 1:8] in His full humanity), did not seek that honor from men because as the Son of God He understood that such recognition was deserved by none other than God Himself.

So this morning, like the entirety of my life, I have and will continue to come before God and ask Him to forgive me for trying steal something that cannot be stolen, and for trying to make myself out to be God. This is a quiet and desperating cry of my life. Knowing, of course, that I am forgiven, what can I do to release myself from this bond of pride? How can I let go of my idol of me? I'm tired and I'm weary of wrestling with it. My thoughts are consumed with thoughts of self. I cannot go for one minute with thinking about how the world impedes the honor "due" me. What's wrong with me?

I need the gospel new and afresh. I need that hyperdermic needle of the Spirit of the living God stuck in my heart with a transfusion of love from Jesus, carrying cells of grace and mercy that are constantly pumped into my veins. I know this is the cure all, the panacea, but right now it just feels like words, things I assent to, but where's my faith, my trust? I don't know. I feel trapped, and I feel helpless and hopeless. I fear standing before God and answering for this wretched love of self.

'Jesus, I'm desperate for you. I'm desperate for you.'