Craziness

He offered sacrifices to the gods of Damascus, who had defeated him; for he thought, "Since the gods of the kings of Aram have helped them, I will sacrifice to them so they will help me." 

2 Kings 16:23

What was she thinking?  This was craziness - this joining thing, this going along, this fitting in.  She didn't fit in.  First of all, she didn't have the right clothes, those designed, color-co-OR-dinated, up-to-the-minute clothes.  She didn't have the right hair - glossy, down-to-the-waist, move-in-the-wind hair.  She knew that when others looked at her, they saw freckles and curls, hand-me-downs, and glasses.  She definitely didn't look the part.

Yet, here she was.  Trying.  To fit.  To be like the crowd.  Watching from her chosen corner, she saw the ebb and flow of conversations like gatherings of colorful birds, cluster and disperse, cluster and disperse - moving across and through the room.  She smiled, a guarded smile, a secret smile.  It was almost like watching a crowd doing the wave at an athletic event.  The smile broadened as she pictured these colorful birds waiting for their moment to raise their arms...  

Silly.  She thought.  It's just silly that I'm even here.  It was her mother's idea.  Her mother - perfect hostess, perfect parent, perfect wife.  Relegated to a small life.  A stay-at-home-neighborhood-mom life.  Her perfect job had been taken from her with the crash of the market, the downward-turn-of-the-economy.  And she was feeling the effects of social isolation.  She was feeling the effects of living on less, of making do, of sacrifice.  Her mother had determined to lift her daughter out of the drudgery - kicking and screaming - into a network of social and professional opportunity.  Her daughter wasn't going to have to make do;  her daughter was going to be one of the lucky ones, successful.  She was going to find a good husband, an educated, professional man, who would carry her into a better life.

But first, she had to fit in.  Fit in and be accepted into that network.  This group.  The rich, the powerful, the doers.  The deciders.  Birds - all of them.  Clucking, squawking, flapping birds.  In all of her mother's stay-at-home years, she still didn't know her daughter.  How she felt unique and special because of her differences.  How she didn't mind the hand-me-downs - the gently-used clothes with stories of their own.  How she liked the creativity, the challenge of making do.  How she valued the friendships she had cultivated - friendships based on shared experience and deep discussions.  Lasting, rooted friendships, like oaks from acorns.  

Not this.  Not surface, dandelion-blowing-in-the-wind.  Like a meet-and-greet.  Craziness.

She sighed.  For her mother, she would try.  For her mother, who had lost her way, she would become. She would smile.  She would talk about the weather.  For her mother, who had been defeated, she would rise up.  She would swallow the parts that didn't fit.  She would sacrifice to the gods who had won - the social, the successful, the shallow.  So they could help - not her - but her mother.  So they could help her mother regain her self.  Her perfect life.  Lived through her daughter.

How many times do we take on things in this life that aren't ours?  Things that don't belong to us, that aren't a part of us - because those things are working for others.  How many times do we go along with the crowd - without thinking - because everyone else is doing it?  Compromises in our jobs, at home, in relationship.  Keep up with the Jones', dress to impress, choose from a menu of the politically correct.  

The King of Israel offered sacrifices to the gods of the Damascus.  Even though he knew it was against his religion - against the law of his God.  Thou shalt have no other gods before me.  He offered sacrifices to the gods of Damascus because the King of Damascus had beaten him in battle.  He was taking on things in his life that weren't his.  Gods that didn't belong to him.  Because everyone else was doing it.  Instead of thinking his actions were being held in account by the God of Israel - judged - he had done evil in the eyes of the Lord - instead of thinking he was being taught a lesson - the King of Israel thought the gods of Damascus were more powerful.  After all, he'd been beaten.  He and his God.  Who he only called on in times of need.  Like battle.  Who he ignored otherwise - ignored and disrespected.  Tossed away in the changing tides of fortune.  I will sacrifice to them so they will help me.

What was he thinking?  It was craziness.  

Hear, O Israel; the Lord our God, the Lord is one!  

Heavenly Father, help me to be true to You.  In my actions, in my thoughts, and in my words.  It can be easy to lose sight of You in my daily living - easy to sacrifice to a different god.  Help me to see You in the ordinary and everyday.  Remind me who I am to you. 

Remind Me Who I Am     

by Jason Gray

When I lose my way,

And I forget my name,

Remind me who I am.

In the mirror all I see,

Is who I don't wanna be,

Remind me who I am.

In the loneliest places,

When I can't remember what grace is.

Tell me once again who I am to You,

Who I am to You.

Tell me lest I forget who I am to You,

That I belong to You.

To You.

When my heart is like a stone,

And I'm running far from home,

Remind me who I am.

When I can't receive Your love,

Afraid I'll never be enough,

Remind me who I am.

If I'm Your beloved,

Can You help me believe it.

Tell me once again who I am to You,

Who I am to You, whoa.

Tell me lest I forget who I am to You.

That I belong to You.

To You.

I'm the one you love,

I'm the one you love,

That will be enough,

I'm the one you love.

Tell me once again who I am to You.

Who I am to You.

Tell me lest I forget who I am to You,

That I belong to You.

To You.