February, 2008 Speaking on Behalf of God

February, 2008

Many years ago, God used a sledgehammer to gently point out that my prideful attitude was destroying my marriage. Thinking back, it is a tribute to Mike’s patience that he even remained with me during those early years of our marriage. If you’ll pardon the expression, I was a witch with a capital B. On steroids. The thing is, I saw it as mostly mental – I only thought the thoughts. I didn’t actually verbalize them. Or so was my delusion. In reality (as I later realized), they seeped out like the unidentifiable stuff in the bottom of your vegetable drawer. The routing out of that hideous attitude was a grueling two-step process.

The first came a few months after our return from living in China. Using a mental picture combined with an almost-audible voice of the Holy Spirit, God showed me what He thought of my proclivity for pride. The conviction was intense, the repentance pure. Then began the second step of the day-by-day retraining of my mind. Every time a self-exalting or others-bashing thought came to my mind, I had to capture it, confess it, re-focus and replace it with a God-honoring one. It was tough. At first, the thought-training came dozens of times each hour. Only sleep offered a respite. Slowly, I realized it was taking less time; instead of hourly, it was daily, then weekly. After about two years, I finally felt free of the beast.

And our marriage reflects it.

Unfortunately, just because you slay the beast in one area doesn’t mean it’s slain in all areas.

Last month, a women’s Bible study group wanted to invite my friend to come and present her ministry, Women at Risk (WAR). Unfortunately, the whole thing had come about very suddenly and on such short notice, she was unable to come. So they turned to me and asked me to come and present an overview to them in the 20 – 30 minute introduction time prior to the start of their study.

Most people who know me know that talking comes easily and that I could talk for a half hour even if I’m half-asleep. But this time it was different. I had taught Sunday School lessons a bazillion times, presented lectures for other engagements and presented them. When I speak about China or my children, it’s no problem – those are MY territory.

But this – this was my friend’s ministry. Part of my job was to show the women the need for this ministry, to show how WAR is helping to fill the need, and to whet their appetite for my friend to come present it more in full. The more I dwelt on it, the more panicked I became. I know my friend well, but the ministry aspect I have only recently come to understand. And I have lived a privileged life here in America – how do I, if I have rarely seen poverty or pain as severe as these women endure – how do I represent it to these ladies? What if I can’t present it well? What if they scoff at me since I have never visited the safe houses that I am supposed to be talking about? What if the women don’t want my friend to come speak and it was simply because my presentation was lousy? What in the world do I think I’m doing?

The “aha” moment rose slowly. This is what I should be feeling every time I’m speaking. Whether I speak to groups or my Sunday School, I’m representing God and His ministry here on earth. When I talk about China. And when I write about my kids or my thoughts in this newsletter. Holy cow. Do I know enough about His ministry, His intentions, His purposes? Do I know enough about the topic I’m teaching? Do I know enough about Him and His character to present Him so well that it whets others’ appetites to invite Him in, to linger with Him longer? What in the world do I think I’m doing? I prepared probably twice as much as I had ever done getting ready for that little intro talk.

Once I knew I had it ready, I began to relax. And that was my problem. My guard had gone down.

Maybe because I had just written last month about wanting to increase my mailing list for this newsletter, a new thought arose. Hmmmm. A whole room full of women who don’t get my newsletter. Maybe I could tell them a little about it. Maybe I could drop a hint I’d be open to other speaking engagements or something else as well. A little marketing never hurt anyone. Thankfully, the Holy Spirit was quick with His sledgehammer to intervene. Oh yeah. I was there to represent someone else. That meant my goal was to be as transparent as possible, so that only my friend’s ministry stood out. He brought a line from my favorite hymn back to mind: “…and may they forget the channel, seeing only Him”. This was not the time for marketing me. In fact, it wasn’t about me at all.

Arrrgh! How’d I get to thinking about raising my own stature again? Why does this pride thing keep sneaking its ugly little talons into my brain? I began to think about my other speaking situations. What had been my motivations in those? To exalt self or to exalt Christ? What about Sunday School every week? Do I try to turn the kids’ minds to God or do I want them to see me as the “fun” teacher? Are we not always supposed to be representing the One who gave us life?

God has taken me to task so many times on this issue. He takes me over a major hurdle in this area only to have me trip on a pebble. Will I ever become a polished diamond in His hand or will He forever have me in His dop, chiseling away at another imperfection? Is there any hope for us rocks this side of heaven? Oh, wait a minute. I forgot. He likes to work with us rock-headed, chisel-avoiding, imperfect things called humans. What a wonder.

Like a rock,

The Submissive Despot

Amy Louise

Amy Shane