My delusions of grandeur, and a Savior who is grand

As a kid, like many kids, I had delusions of grandeur.

Ah, to be really great at something.

I picked up the electric guitar in middle school because I wanted to be a girl who could shred.  Maybe like this:

You have to admit, that's pretty cool.

I took lessons from a gentle, long-haired man who loved classic rock and taught me Purple Haze and some Stevie Ray Vaughan licks.  I never quite reached Orianthi's skill level.  Even today, that's about all I remember on the guitar, which makes it appear that I know more about the instrument than I actually do.

me, in 8th grade

Oh, I used to imagine what it would be like to win a gold medal in the Olympics!

A poster of Janet Evans adorned my bedroom wall
above my  proud display of swim team ribbons

Once upon a time, I was speedy, agile, and fairly athletic.

The Presidential Fitness Test in P.E.? - all. over. it.

I reveled in trying to beat some of the boys.  "Bring on the shuttle run," I'd say to myself.

Remember this?

And then I turned 13, and just like that (sigh), my glory years were behind me.

While I still played sports through high school, I experienced minimal success, having more heart than actual skill.  I played mediocrely on a mediocre basketball team.  And in track and cross-country, knowing I wouldn't come in first place, I set my sights on the lofty goal of just not being last.  I was content in the middle of the pack.  First place ribbons in swimming became increasingly rare.

Nonetheless, I still enjoyed the camaraderie of being on a team, working towards a common goal.  And I loved the challenge and the physical activity.  Coaches didn't mind me because I had a positive attitude.  But grandeur was not to be had.  I was so....AVERAGE.  Maybe I didn't work hard enough during the off seasons or maybe I just wasn't blessed with the amount of natural ability I would have liked.  Probably both.

Nonetheless, I tend to think that God protected me from myself, knowing that my pride couldn't handle any more than a modest amount of success, success that nobody cares about or will remember.

I always marveled at other kids who did experience greater successes and didn't seem to get bigheaded about it.  I imagine that, as a teenager, to be a bigger success in itself.

While I think on excellence and diligence and hard work and honed skill  - all good things that can bring God glory and that shouldn't be set aside for wishful thinking, I also think on the fact that no matter how great or not great I am considered in this world, my soul is helpless and damned without Jesus, my Savior and Redeemer.

How I depend on His strength and righteousness, because I have none of my own.

Over time, I have grown/am growing/hope to continue to grow into seeing myself less and less as an aspiring great person and more and more as a dependent person on Jesus.

To focus on who Jesus is for me, instead of who I am for Him.  This thinking transforms me and interestingly gives me great joy.

John the Baptist's words spring up in my mind:

"He must become greater and greater and I must become less and less."                                                                                                                 - John 3:30

And then I think on this story below (perhaps you know it) of a father and his son completing the Iron Man Triathlon together, after the son asked his dad if they could race it.  The race consists of a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride, topped off by a 26.2-mile run (a marathon).  The son has cerebral palsy.

"For in Him, we live and move and have our being." - Acts 17:28

I love watching this video each Easter or the days leading up to it and reflecting on my Savior's true grandeur and what it was that HE did and does.