Eh, I just ran out of coffee…
It means my morning is done, and I can now focus on emails. I’ve never been codependent before, but coffee sure is great. I am not sure what I did before. How did I survive without insatiable alertness, not having to blink for hours, or the feeling of anxiety all day?
No one will know.
There are a lot of things I will never know.
- Why do flies come right back to the spot they were just at?
- Why cant the windshield wiper reach the whole window?
- How can I birdie one hole and 8 the next?
- How the internet works?
- How can the moon and the sun be up at the same time?
- How the dryer eats one sock every laundry day?
- Where my money goes?
I find pride a strange existence. Dinosaurs make sense, but pride is the strangest of all creation. I get pride confused with confidence sometimes. Pride can lead to blindness, and I want to admit my blind spots. The last couple of months I have been in the dark, and it all has to do with a two fold statement.
Jesus says, “The kingdom of heaven belongs to little children.”, and yet He also says to be “Wise”. These two seem to oppose themselves. With it comes uncertainty and multiple levels of confusion. You can’t be a child and be wise. Can you? What does it mean to be a child, or, to be like a child and be wise? Children are not wise. If anything they are the opposite of wise, and yet they have great faith. Or, is it wise to be like a child?
My darkness, or my blindside has been my pride of knowledge. I feel puffed up in the area of my ability to know. Having studied under amazing theologians at Fuller Theological Seminary I have gained a sense of theological pride. But…. I have become undone. I am admitting my sin and blindness. I wish to no longer think of myself in the way I have.
Every person I admire, every man I strive to be like, every great theologian I have sat with are learners. They are all teachable. They, seemingly, consider themselves not knowing. They could easily act haughty and righteious about their own theological knowledge, but they don’t. It is as if they are thirsty for more, they constantly ask questions, and never do they make you know they are right. Just like a child.
So I want to not know more. It is totally fine to not know. It is ok to say, “I don’t know”. In fact it may be wise. I want to ask more questions. A lot like Jesus, I do not want to answer many questions, but I would like to answer questions with more questions.
Can we pause and seek out our blind spots? I am fine with not knowing a lot about most things. I am learning to be ok with not having the answers. I think it may help me to see people differently. I want my pride to be in my low stature and in Christ’s lofty grander.