For sure and for certain, I am a daughter of the King of kings, a princess of the most high God. My eternity is set, I don’t doubt that for one fine frog’s hair second; but, my here and my now, in this current stance, right smack-dab where I am, this earthly residence of mine tends to get a wee bit jumbled. Buckaroos, what sorta wholly holy armament shall I utilize as I face both the seen and the invisible evils of the day?
I rig myself with the newest, greatest, whiz-bang, every-ready gear that supports what I think others need me to be, expect me to be, want me to be, and anticipate me to be.
But who am I – really?
Let me introduce you to the one who stares at me in the morning mirror:
Meet the infamous Chameleon Kid!
Depending upon the scenario, I rig out with new gear each day: I choose from concealable, visible, Kydex, and leather holsters; I select ammo of assorted calibers; I vary my firearm for diverse shot patterns, target impacts, and recoils. And because of all these different choices, on a whim, and in an instant, I am able to alter my power, strength, and speed – I can shred the target shot-gun style or pistol zing it bulls-eye center with a solo shot. Then, depending on the day’s accuracy, results, and anticipated challenges, I’ll adjust tomorrow’s gear accordingly.
Still, it seems hardly ever that I get all of it whiz-bang right.
What about you? How’s your aim?
I go at things (relationships, duties, promises, dreams, hobbies, etc.) with too much or sometimes with too little. I balk when I should race. I speed when I should slow. I take aim when I should pray. I holler when I should whisper. I laugh when I should cry.
Oh, but wait, lest you should think I flail and fail every minute of each and every day…
There are rare occasions when I hit the day’s targets, smack-dab center. Electric butterflies skim my belly insides with excitement, and during times like these I’ve even been known to whoop! right out loud. I’ve even been known to shock myself with an ear-to-ear grin. Sad thing is that it never last long because I’m speed lightning, wordly-whacked right upside the head with disdain. Sometimes I’m thumped sideways with misunderstanding. Or I’m flat out knocked down with insults. Worse yet, I’m acknowledged and then rejected. Usually though, I’m piece by piece ignored. And as a result, my Chameleon Kid hat tips backward, falls off my big ole head, and lands upside down, along with my heart, in the dingy dust of the wayward day.
So, I scramble to my feet, brush off the grime and dirt, retreat to my hovel, and strip down to nothing. Yet, again.
- What do they need me to be, expect me to be, want me to be, anticipate me to be?
- Shall I influence them to think that I’m one of them, just one of the in-crowd?
- How do I convince them that I’m a member of the follow along gang?
- Do I really deep down even wanna be included?
I trip on silence, scramble back up and climb atop my bed of angst where I twist and turn until I find a somewhat tattered, yet ever so merciful, blanket of grace. I punch down the pillow of shame and then I slumber with redemption. As the morning sun rises, I run my belt through a new this is Who I Am Today holster – one that I’ve carefully plucked outta my overstuffed bag o’ gear. I chamber a different round, flick the safety on, and secure my most recent armament to my hip. The Chameleon Kid is ready, yet again!
Despite how hard I struggle, strive and try, I rarely seem to get it all right.
It’s so simple, yet profound, that if I would only slow down, I’d see His Truth on surface of my heart as it churns and pumps and moves all around. When I take the time each day to set aside my own self-seeking, pat on the back, selfish self – and instead seek my Master’s ideal, then I’d see clear the note He’s taped on the mirror of my soul:
Daughter, here is your gear for the day. I’ve rearmed you with a new rig; but get this, nobody will even notice you are wearing it because it’ll blend in with who I’ve already created you to be! In addition, every bit of what you think and say and do, yes, even your very presence, will melt into the small places where My mercy and My glory meet.
Child of Mine, it is in those moments, places, and times, that even the newest, greatest, whiz-bang, every-ready gear that supports what you think others need you to be, expect you to be, want you to be, and anticipate you to be, will fail AND you will flip, flop and flail. The sorta wholly holy gear that I need you to utilize as you face both the seen and the invisible evils of the day will only be perceived when you look unto Me.
(& lots o’ mercy, grace, redemption, etcetera, so on & so forth…)
Your Father God.
He must increase,
(John 3:30 NKJV)
At times, each of us is the Chameleon Kid and we drag along a range bag, heavy with an assortment of hi-tech gear. We change, adapt, and alter, not only ourselves, but our firepower; we attempt to stand strong, secure a dynamic posture, and square-up to each day’s battle; but, if we alter the very core of who God created each of us to be, then we’ve run wild ‘n crazy ahead of Him only to discover that our day’s conbat gear doesn’t even fit right. It clanks and clamors when it should be snug and tight. As a detrimental result we not only miss the actual-factual target, but sometimes we discover that we aren’t even on the right range! And buckaroos, that’s a big fat Yikers!
For do I now persuade men, or God?
Or do I seek to please men?
For if I still pleased men,
I would not be a bondservant of Christ.
(Galatians 1:10 NKJV)
I peel the note off the mirror, fold it in half, and tuck it inside my shirt pocket that’s stitched just over my chest. Paying heed to the note, I rig myself with the things of God: His Word, prayer, faith, diligence, grace, redemption, sanctification, guidance, Truth, and mercy. His daily equipment is centuries old, well worn, and heavenly oiled; it supports who God needs me to be, expects me to be, wants me to be, and anticipates me to be.
Let me introduce you to the one who stares at me in the mirror this morning: