Fame is one of my biggest fears, not because I see fame and fortune knocking on my door (I don’t), but because I know how needy I can be and how quickly I could run to adoration. Is it any wonder that most actresses and actors come from broken homes? Or authors? Or singers? Those of us (and there are many) who grew up in difficult environments screamed for attention when we were younger. And if we’re not properly healed of that need for recognition, we’ll scream for it as adults.
My biggest struggle as an adult has been this bit of faulty thinking: I need to justify the spot of earth I take up. So, to justify me being here, I do all sorts of gymnastics to prove I’m okay, to prove I can live on this earth and be worthy of it.
Of course, I know this is wrong. Of course I know Jesus loves me. He made me. He delights in me. So often, though, those oft-repeated platitudes soar right over my heart, never really hitting me. It’s an issue I tackled in my second novel—God’s seeming capriciousness. Thankfully, I have sensed His whispers enough to know He is real and He does love me.
But still, fame seduces, doesn’t it? It shows us that we’re not insignificant after all, that we’re worth something. That there is a spark of the divine inside us.
So I pray. I don’t know if I’ll ever be “famous” or rich. Sometimes I long for both. Sometimes I shudder at both. But the true, deep part of my heart longs for this: that Jesus would be glorified not only in my outward actions, but more importantly, in my inward heart. Oh that I, if faced with fame, would gladly toss its glories to the feet of Jesus, thankful for Him and not the adulation afforded me. Maybe that’s why fame hasn’t been granted me. Maybe I’d clutch the praise to myself, sucking life from it as a mosquito preys on a child’s forearm. Oh that I would rest in His sacrifice, knowing my worth way down deep, so that the sparkly shiny glory offered by this fleeting world would look more like trinkets than eternal treasures.
My biggest struggle as an adult has been this bit of faulty thinking: I need to justify the spot of earth I take up. So, to justify me being here, I do all sorts of gymnastics to prove I’m okay, to prove I can live on this earth and be worthy of it.
Of course, I know this is wrong. Of course I know Jesus loves me. He made me. He delights in me. So often, though, those oft-repeated platitudes soar right over my heart, never really hitting me. It’s an issue I tackled in my second novel—God’s seeming capriciousness. Thankfully, I have sensed His whispers enough to know He is real and He does love me.
But still, fame seduces, doesn’t it? It shows us that we’re not insignificant after all, that we’re worth something. That there is a spark of the divine inside us.
So I pray. I don’t know if I’ll ever be “famous” or rich. Sometimes I long for both. Sometimes I shudder at both. But the true, deep part of my heart longs for this: that Jesus would be glorified not only in my outward actions, but more importantly, in my inward heart. Oh that I, if faced with fame, would gladly toss its glories to the feet of Jesus, thankful for Him and not the adulation afforded me. Maybe that’s why fame hasn’t been granted me. Maybe I’d clutch the praise to myself, sucking life from it as a mosquito preys on a child’s forearm. Oh that I would rest in His sacrifice, knowing my worth way down deep, so that the sparkly shiny glory offered by this fleeting world would look more like trinkets than eternal treasures.
Labels: eternal treasure, fame, insecurity, Jesus, writing
7 Comments:
Well said, my friend.
I don't think it is any accident that before God began opening my heart to write for publication, He first revealed to me how needy I was--showed me my brokenness and how desperate I am for Him.
It took far too many years for me to realize that it was the Lord's kindness toward me that He has prevented me from obtaining material riches. He knows my heart and He desires that I keep it bent toward Him and not the things of this world. My brother is a multi-millionaire and as his riches have increased, so has his selfishness and self-sufficiency. I fear I might do the same, if the Lord allowed it. Excellent thoughts, Mary.
Good words, Mary. Good words.
"But the true, deep part of my heart longs for this: that Jesus would be glorified not only in my outward actions, but more importantly, in my inward heart."
Well, said, Mary. I've always desired to glorify God outwardly, pointing others to Him, but there is something more sacred about glorifying Him in our hearts. Thank you for an honest, thought-provoking post. There are a ton of us out here who relate.
Mary, your transparent thoughts resonate with me... and with thoughts I was reading this week in Dallas Willard's "The Divine Conspiracy":
"The human being screams against [being ordinary] from its every pore. To be just 'another one of those' is deadening agony for us. Indeed, it actually drives some people to their death. It was never God's intention for anyone.
This is why everyone...naturally wants in some way to be extraordinary, outstanding, making a unique contribution.... The drive for significance is a simple extension of the creative impulse of God that gave us being.... We were built to count... Our hunger for significance is a signal of who we are and why we are here, and it also is the basis of humanity's enduring response to Jesus." ~Dallas Willard
We were made to count. And we do: to the Creator of the Universe who knows the numbers of hairs on our head.
We were made to be known. And we are. To Him who knows even each of the stars by name.
I have to whisper these things to my trembling heart often ~weak smile~... thanks for letting us listen in on your whisper too, Mary.
All is gift,
Ann Voskamp
Wow, between what you wrote, Mary and what Ann V posted, I'm left to ponder this topic a little longer.
Your thoughts were exactly what I think about all the time. One of my biggest fears in pursuing writing professionally is the distraction of fame. Not that I will necessarily become famous, but I worry that if I did - even in the smallest way - that I would lose sight of the reason for which I write. At the end of the day, would I really be willing to lay my crowns at the feet of Jesus?
Thank you for sharing your heart. It has helped me in my journey.
Great quote, Ann. I'll have to keep that one posted nearby.
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