“Jesus … made Himself of no reputation … He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.” Philippians 2:5, 7–8

Deflating inflated egos is so important to God that he offers to help.

He helped me. I recently spent a week on a book tour. We saw long lines and crowded stores. One person after another complimented me. For three days I bathed in the river of praise. I began to believe the accolades. All these people can’t be wrong. I must be God’s gift to readers. My chest puffed so much I could hardly see where to autograph the books. Why, had I been born two thousand years earlier, we might read the gospels of Matthew, Max, Luke, and John. About the time I wondered if the Bible needed another epistle, God shot an arrow of humility in my direction.

We were running late for an evening book signing, late because the afternoon signing had seen such long lines. We expected the same at the next store. Concerned, we phoned ahead. “We are running behind. Tell all the people we’ll arrive soon.”

“No need to hurry,” the store manager assured.

“What about the people?”

“Neither one seems to be in a hurry.”

Neither one?

By the time we reached the store, thankfully, the crowd of two people had tripled to six. We had scheduled two hours for the signing; I needed ten minutes.

Self-conscious about sitting alone at the table, I peppered the last person with questions. We talked about her parents, school, Social Security number, favorite birthday party. Against my pleadings, she had to go. So I sat alone at the table. Big stack of Lucado books, no one in line.

I asked the store manager, “Did you advertise?”

“We did. More than usual.” She walked off.

The next time she passed I asked, “Had other signings?”

“Yes, usually we have a great response,” and kept going.

I signed all the books at my table. I signed all the Lucado books on the shelves. I signed Tom Clancy and John Grisham books. Finally a customer came to the table. “You write books?” he asked, picking up the new one.

“I do. Want me to sign it?”

“No thanks,” he answered and left.

God hit his target. Lest I forget, my daily reading the next morning had this passage: “Do not be wise in your own eyes” (Proverbs 3:7)

When you’re full of yourself, God can’t fill you.

But when you empty yourself, God has a useful vessel.

From Cure for the Common Life
Copyright (W Publishing Group, 2006) Max Lucado
Used by permission

Question: The next time you start feeling complacent in your own gifts and talents, can you remember to pray to thank God for what he has given you and is doing through you?

About this Author: Max Lucado

It is with serious intent that I intrude upon our devotional moments in these missives with things such as coffee, the Da Vinci Code, jogging, iPods, Bonnie Raitt, and Dodger dogs. There is a method to this madness – to splash a little profane around the sacred so that the opposite might happen when we leave this devotional reflection to the end that the sacred might invade our profane existence and open our eyes to God in the world.

It’s all about connections. The more we learn to connect God’s truth to the physical world and the culture that surrounds us, the more we will be able to live a life of worship. Worship does not consist in leaving the world to see God, but in learning to see God at all times in the world.

The separation of the sacred and the profane is hard to shake. It is deeply engrained in us, the result of a long history going back at least to the early Greek philosophers, Plato and Aristotle, who taught that the good and the sublime exist only in the non-physical realm. The body was tainted; the spirit was pure. The Gnostics came along and took it even farther. They believed the physical does not even exist. It is an illusion. The only truth is what you know in your mind.

Then along came Jesus. He busted the whole paradigm because he was the essence of the spiritual – God himself, to be exact – in human flesh and bone. He ate and drank and got dirty walking the road of life, and made it all sacred in the process. He told stories about vines and branches and farmers and merchants and kings and widows. He changed water into wine, sickness into health, death into life. He healed people’s bodies and forgave their sins at the same time. He paid his taxes, helped his disciples fish, and cooperated with Roman rule. And even after his resurrection, he made breakfast for his little band of followers and ate with them.

To Jesus, life was a mixed bag of the holy and the common, but mostly the common made holy by his touch. In Jesus, the sacred and the profane meet, resulting in the realization that the profane can be redeemed. Our earthly existence can be given spiritual value. The physical world is not disconnected from the spiritual one, nor is it at odds with it, but the physical world can embody all that is spiritual. The Word became flesh, and since then nothing has ever been the same. Now work, play, recreation, entertainment, and even commerce can contain God’s glory. Indeed, the entire physical world is merely a front for the spiritual realities it illustrates.

So to go into the world, leaving God back in your devotions somewhere would be a big mistake, when in reality, by focusing on him, you are just getting warmed up to discovering him everywhere else.

Question: What are some of the ways that we compartmentalize our lives into “sacred” and “profane”? How can we seek to redeem the so-called “profane” parts for God?

About this Author: John Fischer