I posted earlier today that Journey Church was selected ‘Best of Kenosha 2019’ for Places of Worship.  

I thought it was pretty cool, although I hadn’t heard about it and certainly hadn’t asked anyone to vote on our behalf — but there it was, big as day, right in my inbox.  

I knew Kenosha did a ‘Best of’ the City campaign every year.  I hadn’t remembered Church being one of the categories — but there it was, big as day, right in my inbox.

Then the lead of our Communications Department sent a message to me -- big as day, right in my inbox — that the whole thing was a promotional stunt — some people might call it a scam.  I wouldn’t call it that, because calling it that makes me look dumber than if it was just a promotional stunt — although only marginally less dumb.  

Is there a lesson here?  Pretty sure.

You don’t have to be a dupe to be duped. It’s like:  “Doesn’t this stuff only happen to elderly people?”  Don’t say it.  And don’t think it.  Move on.

I think almost everybody thinks they’re way too smart to get outsmarted.  We’re a lot savvier than the next guy, right?  

Someone goes online and purchases tix to the big concert only to find out it was a scam - StubHub had to come to your rescue … you buy an iTunes gift card only to find it wasn’t really for iTunes (I’m just saying these things hypothetically) … malicious online links … messages with malware-bearing attachments … it happens.  A lot.

But not to me.  It doesn’t happen to me.  And yet, there it was — big as day, right in my inbox.

The slice of Pride Pie tastes really sweet going down.  The problem is you often have to chase it with a full liter of Humility Cooler. 

Take, for example, a fresh out-of-the-oven little bundle of joy we call a baby.  The baby doesn’t think at 3 a.m. when it’s dark outside:  “I really don’t want to wake up Mama and Papa to get a bottle.  I’m sure they’re sleeping soundly.”  No.  He screams bloody murder.  He doesn’t care if the whole city hears him.  

But babies grow up.  They get to be three.

Three-year olds are hard-wired for selfishness - they can’t help it.  The world revolves around them.  They’re obsessed with their thing.  They want what they want.  

But two year olds grow up.  They get to be 50.

There’s this house in Pleasant Prairie that I love.  It isn’t far from where I live.  Every time I pass by it I go: “Oh my goodness.  That’s an awesome house.  I’d love to live in that house.  That’s my dream house."  I’ve stopped in front of it and just stared at it.  I’ve even imagined the people who live inside might see me sitting out there and by some miracle of God where He would come in visible form right into their living room, would then come outside where I’m sitting and say:  “We don’t know who you are, but we’re so overcome by this inner thing.  We want you to have our house.  Just take it.  Here are the keys.  Right now.  Move in.’

That hasn’t happened yet.  We’ll see.

Here’s the deal.  We want our own thing and we want it now.  There are desires that battle inside us where we put ourselves at the center of the known universe where we exercise no more control over our impulses and cravings than does a 2-year old.

We want what we can’t have.  This form of greed and pride is just natural to us.  We can be so self-focused - so arrogant - so deluded in believing we’re ‘IT’ that sometimes we even try to manipulate God.  

But God says - in the New Testament book of James - that He 'opposes the proud.’

It’s hard for me to admit I don’t have this completely conquered. 

In order to get the genuine humility God has for us, we acknowledge our pride and arrogance - and sooner or later we have to fall to our knees and repent of that and turn from it.  We have to submit ourselves to God.  We have to draw near to Him.  At some point we must realize grace is available only through a cross with Christ’s humble blood on it - and we know God will give us more grace than we need.

I don’t know … maybe there’s a place for a pastor to be honest about his shortcomings and still be accepted among the ranks of fellow-strugglers that we all belong to.  

I still think we have a pretty good church.  I’m grateful for the folks who do life together there.  You guys rock.  And I love you.

Now … I’m going to go sit in a room and turn off all the lights for a couple of days.  I’ll see you soon.

And be blessed.