I am the anti-Punchinello.
Some of you will instantly understand what I'm referring to when I say this. Others will need an explainer, so let me be brief. Max Lucado wrote a children's book called You Are Special that revolves around a doll named Punchinello. He lives in a village of other dolls (called Wemmicks) that constantly rate each other through a system of stickers. If someone places a dot sticker on you, it's a bad rating. A star sticker is a good rating. Throughout the story, Punchinello constantly receives dot stickers because he is weaker, slower, and clumsier than all the other dolls. It takes a meeting with the Maker of the Wemmicks for Punchinello to realize that the his opinion is the only one that matters. The stickers start falling off as he realizes the intrinsic value he has because he was made by the Maker.
Now why am I bringing this up? I suppose it's because Punchinello's experience with the Wemmicks does not ring true to my experience. My days are not full of bullies approaching me to remind me of my shortcomings. I am not beset with enemies day in and day out. Indeed, if I had to give an account of the stickers I receive on a weekly basis, I am sure that the stars would outnumber the dots. This is not to say that I am especially talented (far from it). However, I am surrounded by people who love me, and care for me, and encourage me, and build me up. But here's the problem:
I don't believe them.
I know myself.
If someone calls me hardworking, I can think of 15 instances this week where I was lazy.
If someone calls me wise, the foolish decisions I've made over the past 6 years flash instantaneously before me.
If someone calls me intelligent, I am reminded of the time I tried to buy a 10 cent piece of candy with a nickel.
Rest assured, this is not humility. It is a complete and deeply held belief that other people are wrong about the person I am. That they have bought into my facade, but if they knew the true me, they would bail out in a heartbeat. My community doesn't see me when I'm at my laziest, my most ignorant, my most tempted. They see the curated, polished, and fakest version of myself. Believing their encouragement feels as futile as Mark Hamill accepting thanks for destroying the Death Star. They were suckered into a performance, but all that's left is me.
Me, who is overwhelmed on a daily basis.
Me, who wastes so much time on entirely useless things.
Me, who could never live up to the non-existent expectations I've imposed on myself.
They don't know the real me. But I do. And I'm pretty sure I'm right. Punchinello struggled because he let other Wemmicks' words stick with him. But I refuse to believe a word from the people who love me most. I'm the expert on me, and I've decided that everyone else is wrong.
The ironic truth of the matter is that the solution to my problem is the same as Punchinello's.
Because I am not the expert on me. There is One who knows me better than I know myself. Who has declared over me the Truth. He has known me to my core, seeing directly through my facade into the core of who I am. He has seen my past and future, my motives and actions. I can't claim that. I'm perplexed by myself constantly. I question my actions, my motives, and every aspect of the product of myself. But the Expert doesn't. He knows me. In my entirety. And his verdict?
Adoption.
Forgiveness.
Love.
Patience.
Security.
Acceptance.
Peace.
Indeed, he says: "This is my son, whom I love. With him I am well pleased." I didn't earn that. He didn't get it from his inspection of my motives. He got it from Jesus Christ, who has imputed his righteousness onto my facade. And other people are a lot better at seeing Jesus' righteousness peeking out of me than I am.
I don't write this to say that we are all much better people than we think we are, I write this to say that the good in us comes from Jesus. And perhaps we should do a better job at believing his work in us is effective. This changes my response to encouragement. No longer do I come up with counterexamples and justification for self-destruction. Instead, I praise Jesus for his work, because anything good in me could only ever come from him, and then I move forward. It's not that I need to consider myself higher, it's that I need to get over myself entirely and put the focus back on Jesus.
The joy of the Church (at its best) is that we all know we're broken people. An affirmation of someone is not a declaration of perfection in that area. When I verbally encourage someone, I don't suppose that they are unfailing. I simply affirm that Jesus has worked through them in my life and the lives of others. But yet, I would never offer myself that caveat
We are imperfect. And Jesus is good, so he uses us anyway. So if you don't let other peoples' stars stick, at least marvel at the ones that Jesus died to place over you.
Psalm 139:1
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved.
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