Unqualified.
This morning at Revolution (or revo church), Shad repeated something I have heard him say before, "Jesus had this knack of calling UNQUALIFIED people" to transform the world.
Unmarried teenager? Check. Hated outcasts & traitors colluding with the enemy occupyers? Check. Prostitutes? Sinners? Self-righteous know-it-alls? CHECK. And that's just me…
"Jesus had this knack of calling UNQUALIFIED people."
The cool and excruciating part is that he doesn't need us to do anything "for him." We don't need to defend him. We don't need to be right. We don't need to work hard to glorify him. We don't need to look or act the part or become qualified. Too often when we do, we get in his way.
God is the ultimate Upcycler – a recycling super-genius. We give him all of the crap and ashes of our lives; our small-minded plans, our self-importance…and he gives us new life and life with a purpose that lasts and makes this living worthwhile.
Up until (too) very recently, I was kind of a big deal in my own mind. I didn't look for or want applause, but I knew I could work for it and earn it.
Got a need? I can find a solution. (check.)
Lonely or freaking out? Hey! I'm Allie & I can pray for/with you, be marginally funny, and hang out – even connect you to people who will love you. (check)
Got no money, but a worthy noble vision? Call me. I can help "get things done."
In all of my doing, I thought that I was earning a pretty good reputation and "giving one for the team" – a major in-the-background contributor towards building the Kingdom.
Uh no.
I was secretly full of myself and proud of all of the nifty things I could do, think, manage, say, run, and create. I was resourceful. Yep-pick me.
Then I moved to Gainesville, Georgia, and all of those abilities were revealed for what they actually were – ashes. Good for dampening a fire and maybe making a harsh soap.
In all of the doing and trying to be good and best and better, I'd lost sight of who gave me those graces and abilities. And then he seemed to recall them just when I "needed them most" – to impress other folks I really respected.
And I got angry, depressed, and mortified when the reality of my life in the shallow end of living was revealed. I couldn't hide it. I could not hide that I was probably the worst missionary and employee on the planet. All of my qualifications were worthless in light of my motivation and little "g" – god (me.)
I'd called on God for help and what I wanted was validation, not his Lordship – being in charge – of my life. I'd chat him up on behalf of friends, family, strangers, and the newspaper – less out of love and more out of wanting to be right about him or to avoid being inconvenienced. I'd ask him what he wanted and then say, "thanks, I got it. now get out of my way."
Which makes me a qualified idiot.
And God – being the gentleman and Creator of something out of nothing – was himself. He took my ashes (and crap) and gave me life and hope; family and friends; laughing instead of mourning, purpose instead of pridefulness. He keeps giving me grace and love when I deserve the grave.
He knows that I've got nothing to contribute.
He's okay with that.
I'm told, I've read, and I believe that he is more interested in being revealed through imperfect people than having a whole cadre – a planet full – of perfect people who applaud one another rather than look to him.
He is the sneaky good God of surprises.
Look at my kids, friendships…Howard. If you knew me as I know me, you would agree that I am wholly UNQUALIFIED to have contributed anything good to the cultivating of such great people as Madi and Kenan. I know this. They know this. If there is ever something in my life that reveals a loving God that I cannot see, it's the lives of these two world changers.
Friendships…just the knowing that someone calls me friend is as humbling as it gets. I am a grown up buck-toothed, un-socialized, largely feral, unwashed, oversmart, distracted ADHD poster-child. I get on people's nerves like every other percocious five-year-old. And yet I have friends that inconvenience themselves – family now – to love me. I don't get it. I don't deserve it. I am unqualified.
And then there is Howard. I've told him several times that I don't deserve him. I'm crusty and cranky. Distracted. Recovering from a foul-mouth and not even in possession of the skills that brought me to Georgia. I am a lump. And yet he calls me his bride-to-be. Just writing this makes tears puddle on my cheeks.
Maybe that is it.
We are all lumps and God calls us his bride-to-be.
He sees us with our offerings of ashes and breathes life and hope and love into our crackly lungs.
We are maimed by life and he calls us to run a race then equips us with fresh beating hearts, lungs, legs, shins, feet, shoes, and hope.
Our UNQUALIFIED lives become qualified by his loving acceptance of our ashes and crap. All he asks is that we Trust him.
"Trust me."
Try it. Test-drive it. Ask. Seek. Knock.
No need to spiff up first. That's not your job. It's his.
Let him qualify you.
Cyrstal Lewis, Beauty for Ashes. Just listen to the words. Let them flow over and through you. Test him.
