Dismantling the Trophy Room

I have a room where I put my trophies. It's not in my house or in my office. That would be too private and exclusive (and I don't really have an office). My trophy room is on the Internet. Here you can see all my latest, greatest exploits. You can know the progress of my work. You can see how much I've accomplished in the last week, year, or month. You're a captive audience to how "humbled" I am that <name drop> would do such-and-such to validate my life and work. You are privileged enough to be part of my "friends" that watches my every move, sees every miraculous meal or cup of coffee I drink and indulges yourself in viewing my trophy-room life.

What don't you see? My heart. How ego-centric and selfish I am. You don't see my anger or frustration or hear my mental thoughts condemning me. My kids and wife do, but no, you get a sanitized, "sanctified" trophy-room view of me. I hope you like the highlight reel. Remember that one time?

Unfortunately, I'm arrogant enough to think that you're probably missing my latest trophies. That's probably why deciding to not post much of anything my Facebook or Twitter feed lately has been hard for me. I think you're hanging on every word, photo and cute phrase of mine. You are, right? It would be really disappointing if no one missed me when I came back. Secretly I'm hoping, humble-hoping, this post goes viral so my blog traffic will increase and a publisher will come along begging me to write for them.

See my heart wants you to admire the trophies and the successes and the social betterments that I've made. It wants you to need me and my brilliant wisdom and insight. My heart wants to exist forever getting glory from you as you admire my work. So I'm building an online monument. My children will probably laugh and wonder who the guy on the Internet is that shares the same name as their father.

That's why I have to dismantle this silly self-glorifying process. I have to get off and let it sit and languish and stop pretending that you'll follow me. I have to quit saying whatever comes to my mind first and foremost because a fool is quick to speak and slow to listen. You don't need my tweets or pictures of my supper. You don't need to know how many pages I read in the Bible today or how far I ran or how many words I've written.

I know some of you sincerely are friends and do sincerely care and want to know those things, because that's part of sharing life. I just want to ask you to bear with me while I'm away from the social-media circles. Let's get to know one another via real face time, not Facebook. If we're thousands of miles apart, let's talk on the phone (or Skype or FaceTime). Let's pray together. Let's be real. I'm tired of showing you the trophy room. It's small and really not that impressive.

Perhaps this will help me spend more time displaying a better trophy room. A room filled with thousands upon thousands of trophies that all display the greatness of their owner. I suppose if I stop directing you to my trophy room for a while I could direct you to the trophy room of God. There is where his glory is displayed in the people he has made for his glory. I could point you to his atoning work, his redemptive kindness, his unfathomable greatness, his infinite wisdom. It's never-ending and really, really impressive. Enough of me. Let me point you to Christ.