I’ve been hanging out with two brothers named Dinky and Tiny. They’re in their 50’s and are usually a little bit drunk.
The last time I saw them, Tiny was on the phone with his mother, who lives in Florida. He wanted to make sure she made it safe and sound through Hurricane Irma. Dinky asked if my ministry partner Matt and I would pray with them.
We agreed to pray together, but I told them I wanted to talk first. At this, Tiny said, “Mama, I’ve gotta go, we’re about to get a preachin’ to.”
“You know guys,” I began, “we men think we know everything. We think we have life figured out. The reality is, we don’t.”
“Oh trust me, I know.” Dinky said.
“Lord, we’re fools! We’re nothin’ without him.” Tiny yelled as he fist-pumped toward heaven.
We talked for a little longer and prayed together.
You know, Tiny was right, he and his brother are fools.
When it comes to following Jesus, admitting to our own idiocy is a great place to start.
Because Jesus isn’t looking for advisers.
The cost of discipleship is our pride –– our belief that we have our lives pretty well sorted out.
This cost is harder to pay than we realize. Solomon said, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.” (Proverbs 16:25, ESV)
Jesus used this same imagery when he said, “Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” (Matthew 7:13-14, ESV)
One of my college professors used to say that people really only want two things from life: security and satisfaction. God doesn’t fault us for wanting these things. In fact, he made us to want these things.
The problem is, we don’t trust God to give us what is good.
A friend of mine is having a lot of trouble in this area. He can never pay his bills, his car keeps breaking down, and the state has threatened to take his kids away.
His life is falling apart at every turn.
When he asks for guidance, I open the Bible and tell him the practical ways he needs to humble himself and submit to Jesus.
Later, he calls to yell at me for telling him how to live his life.
He is literally in the midst of the proverbial destruction and still won’t loosen his grip.
He won’t relinquish control.
His way just seems so right to him.
The sobering truth is that my way seems so right to me, too.
Lord, I’m a fool. My way is wide, and speeding toward destruction.
May we pay attention to God’s warning and be willing to trade our destructive pride for true life.