I love Paul. The apostle. Called himself the worst of sinners. Knew everything. The WHOLE law. He murdered Jews who followed Jesus. Worst of sinners. PSHAW! Paul never met me.
I knew everything. I (with a capital “I”) taught my first Bible class for teen girls at a summer camp when I was 17. That same summer, I taught a girls’ class for Yosemite Family Encampment. West Coaster’s will know what a HUGE deal YFE was! I was a missionary in a war zone by the time I was 21. I earned two Master’s degrees from a foremost Christian seminary, both times achieving the place of Honor Graduate with the highest grade point. Through it all I raised two brilliant boys, had a fantastic marriage, and spoke at retreats and conferences. I had it all. I was It All.
Woe to me.
I let others call me Teacher. Leader. I called myself Teacher. Leader. I paraded behind those names. I believed them. I believed in my life. I did not set out to live this way — more for me and less for the One who was in Me. I never meant to love the place of honor at banquets.
And the greatest in my life was humbled — capital M Me.
One is my Teacher. One is my Father. Oh, the sweetness of broken surrender.
42 They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. 43 Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. 44 All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45 They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. 46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47 praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.