Scripture Passage: Jeremiah 1:1-10
Key Verse: "Before you were born I set you apart" (Jer. 1:5, NIV).
I tried acting a few times in high school. Let's just say I was no Harrison Ford, but I did learn a few things. First, acting takes a great imagination. Second, I'm not, nor have I ever been, a bird.
My first leading role was playing a baby bird. Feathers, beak, flap-your-arms-and-try-to fly, the whole nine yards. I did the best I could, but sadly, I'm afraid my best baby bird imitation was more comical than serious, kind of like casting Dumbo as Romeo. Later in the play, I got to play a real human being (a little boy who wanted to be a dancer, but, hey, it's better than being a bird), and it was a whole lot easier than trying to fly.
As strange as it may sound, learning that I was not a bird taught me a lot about being a Christian. How many people do you know who step out of their nests every morning and fly to work just by flapping their arms? Not many, right? Well, how many birds do you know that come home from work, kick back on the couch, and read the evening paper? Let's be honest—less than one, right?
That's because birds and people are different creatures. We see things differently. We think things differently. We do things differently. Perhaps that was why it was so hard for me to act like a bird. But in the same way, as creatures of God's light, we are a different species than the creatures of the world's darkness. We also see, think, and do things differently. Not because we consciously think about it, but because of what we are. But too often (much like my baby bird experience), we waste our time pretending to be something we are not.
That is the point that God is making to Jeremiah in these verses. "Before you were born I created you for something special," He says. Jeremiah tries to explain to God that he can't do the actions God wants him to, but God corrects him: "This is what I made you for; don't be afraid. Don't pretend to be a bird when I made you a human being."
Before we get ready to act, we must remember this truth: Our actions always grow out of who and what we are.
So, before you try to fly, who and what are you?
© 1997 Sean Taylor
She wore a little too much make-up. Her hair was tussled from more than a few bad nights of living on the city streets. And you can bet her clothes weren't the kind that made her welcome in the finer restaurants and uptown subdivisions. But when it came to crying at the feet of Jesus, she was the first to admit she was nothing, and cover His feet with kisses.
He talked way too loud and bragged like, well, a fisherman. He probably didn't get too wrapped up in trying to look his best. And he had a bad habit of being full of himself, and not trying to hide the fact. The first to speak, the first to act, and he made sure you knew it.
The prostitute. Peter. Both show us the very human face of missions. They were plain, ordinary, average. Nothing to make them special. Nothing, that is, except that Christ looked on them and chose them as His tools.
It's amazing how He works that way. Using the ordinary to reach the ordinary. If casting the roles were left up to us, we'd probably film The Life of the Apostle Peter starring Brad Pitt and featuring Neve Campbell as the prostitute who wept at Jesus' feet. But the truth is far less exciting. In truth, Peter was probably no different than the mechanic who changes the oil down at Jiffy Lube, and the prostitute from Luke was closer to what you see on the news than what Julia Roberts played in Pretty Woman.
And yet God chose them.
Isn't it great? How many other ordinary faces are out there, all over the world, waiting for God to touch them, to bring the extraordinary grace of God down to the plain, ordinary place of ... well, us? And how many ordinary faces is God using everyday -- people who will never have their stories adapted for the big screen, people will live and love and put Christ's commands into action and never get a single minute of coverage from Entertainment Tonight or Nightline?
All because they're too ... ordinary.
God has chosen the weak and plain and, yes, even the ordinary to show up the strong and striking and, yes, even the extraordinary. That's the way He has always worked, and I don't expect Him to change his tactics anytime soon.
I hope not, because weakness and poverty is all I really have to offer, if I'm honest with myself.
As strange as it may sound, learning that I was not a bird taught me a lot about being a Christian. How many people do you know who step out of their nests every morning and fly to work just by flapping their arms? Not many, right? Well, how many birds do you know that come home from work, kick back on the couch, and read the evening paper? Let's be honest—less than one, right?
