Put Down the World and Take a Break

I said I would write about the little phrases God gives me, and I got one today, so here I am.

I was watching a Marvel movie: Captain America: Civil War. Unlike the clumsy and intelligence-insulting Wonder Woman, this is actually a well-written, entertaining film. The idea is that the Avengers get in trouble for running around the world and getting into destructive battles that kill a lot of extras, so they do what no intelligent person would ever do: they agree to be overseen and commanded by an international body. Yeah, that’ll work. You want to replace 6 or 8 smart people with relatively good judgment (neglecting Tony Stark) and replace them with a bunch of idiots from Botswana and Pakistan. Good luck with that.

Anyway, superhero movies draw us because superheroes are false messiahs. Jesus was an extremely special person with extraordinary powers and a unique and vital mission. We don’t like Jesus all that much, so we create little carnal messiahs who have power and special status without the annoying, unglamorous humility and obedience.

Superheroes are proud and full of what my dad calls…okay, I will paraphrase…urine and vinegar. They are energetic people who feel great senses of purpose. They get all sorts of admiration because they’re special. We watch them and experience their strange, special lives vicariously.

People who are anointed by God can get superhero complexes. The word “messiah” means “anointed.” If God works through you, you may start to feel a little too special. You may not even want it. You may realize it’s ridiculous, wrong, and something to be embarrassed about. That doesn’t mean you can shake it.

Elijah appears to have had an issue with the superhero complex. He told God this:

I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts: because the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.

God responded as follows:

Yet I have left me seven thousand in Israel, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal, and every mouth which hath not kissed him.

Depending on your mindset, you could take this as a rebuke if God said it to you, but to me, it would be a comfort. Nobody who has any understanding of the importance of humility wants to feel too special. It’s good to sit down and hand the ball off to someone else. It reminds you of your real place in the world. It shows you you’re not alone.

I was watching this movie full of fictional special people (played by professional pretenders running around in silly costumes), and I thought about the things God had been doing for me lately. I have had times of real supernatural joy because of the things God has been showing me about the power and deliverance that are coming to me. Sometimes I feel a little special; it’s a delusion. Today I heard a new phrase from God, and it came back to me during the movie: “One of many.”

It will probably be impossible for people to understand, but that made me feel great. IF God is doing big things in me, it doesn’t mean I have to carry a unique burden that sets me apart. I am one of many. I don’t have to be weighed down with pride, which is always heavy. If I’m just one of many, then I’m fine the way I am. I don’t have to carry too much. I have limited responsibility. I have all sorts of allies out there, working around the clock, each in his turn.

I can’t explain it any better than that.

I can relax and join the crowd of God’s children. I don’t have to be conspicuous.

The devil is “special,” and he hasn’t had a vacation in 6,000 years. He’s the father of all snowflakes. He picked up the crown. Now let him carry it in misery.

Every time I think, “one of many,” I feel like weight is falling off my shoulders.

We have a lot of preachers who feel “just a little bit superior,” as the Church Lady used to put it. The late Eddie Long let a nut named Ralph Messer wrap him in a Torah scroll, put him on a throne, and have him carried around while proclaiming him king. Denny Duron, the preacher I wrote about earlier this week, wrote a whole book saying the rest of us were just Abishais.

We should be content to be unrewarded redshirts, like the short-lived ensigns on old Star Trek episodes, while mighty, holy, rich characters like his lordship the messiah Duron and his exceedingly ordinary kids get the attention and cash.

It was clearly his attempt at excusing his money-centered, attention-centered ministry of foolishness.

Jewish sages are probably the most “special” people outside of Christian TV. You should see how young Orthodox Jews speak about them. So brilliant. So righteous. God should be grateful they’re willing to talk to him.

Isaiah said man’s righteousness is like used menstrual rags. He was right.

If you have problems fighting pride, remember this: “one of many.” It will make you feel much better.