The Girl Behind the Podium

Matthew 9:13 - "But go and learn what this means: 'I desire compassion, and not sacrifice,' for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

I am not a winner.

My number never gets called in raffles.

I don't win money on scratch-off lottery tickets.

My name was never chosen for the primo parking place at work.

The shelves in my bedroom have always been packed with books instead of trophies.

But when I was eight years old, I won the hokey-pokey contest at the skate rink.  I can still remember it.  Contests weren't my thing, especially contests that involved dancing.  I've always had this thing about humiliating myself in public.  But the lights bouncing off the disco balls must have played tricks on my mind, because before I knew it, I was in the middle of the rink with a couple dozen other kids.  The music started.  My skate went in.  My skate went out.  My skate went in and my shin took a beating as I flailed it all about.  I attempted to turn myself around without taking down the whole circle.  The fact that it was a contest was the last thing on my mind.  I just wanted to survive.

Finally, the DJ announced the winner: "The girl with the pigtails!"  I looked around the circle.  None of the girls had their hair in pigtails.  Who was he talking about?  Was he talking about me?  Me???  How could I have won?  I had pokeyed when I was supposed to hokey.  My shakin' was more like convulsin'.  The kids around me had toppled like dominoes when I'd turned myself around.  Surely there was another girl in pigtails who deserved to win.  But my friends were clapping and cheering, pushing me toward the DJ booth.  I looked at the man behind the booth, and he was waving me over.  I wobbled on over to pick up my free ice cream coupon (I bet Mr. DJ felt a twinge of buyer's remorse when I took a nose dive halfway there) and quickly redeemed it.  As my friends headed back to the rink with Cyndi Lauper, I sat on a bench and ate my ice cream, thinking, 'I better finish this before Mr. DJ realizes he made a mistake.'

Like I said, I'm not a winner.

Okay, okay.  I have to admit that I was up for the "Martyr of the Year" award not too long ago.  It's nothing much, really.  I mean, truly, it is a very prestigious award.  Not everyone is qualified to be in the running, let alone win.  I hear this year's winner was supposed to receive an unlimited supply of pitiful looks and at least one "Bless her little heart" each day for a year, along with the original prize (a Guilt-Free Pass to be as Hateful and Vindictive and Judgmental as circumstances warrant - can you say heaven???).  But the qualifications are stringent.  An applicant must meet all three.  The nominees (you know who you are) like to call them The Three S's.  Of course, I had to fill out my application all by myself.  Not one person even thought to nominate me.  They were all too busy to notice what a saint I've been.  Selfish fools.  Anyway, I filled out the application and put a giant, black check in each of the three qualification boxes.  Struggled?  Check.  Suffered?  Check.  Sacrificed?  Check, Check.  I was a Shoo-In.

My application was processing, and I was eight pages into a rockin' acceptance speech.  I had the stage and podium all picked out.  The auditorium was large enough to fit all the people who deserved to witness my ascension to sainthood.  I took my position behind the podium, put the finishing touches on my speech, adjusted the spotlight, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.

The audience was silent.  There was no clapping, no hip-hip-hoorays.  No one sang, "For She's a Jolly Good Martyr."  I was kind of hoping for a rendition of "The Saints Go Marching In," because I know we all want to be in that number.  But nooooooooooooo.

Don't you people know what I've BEEN THROUGH???

Turns out my application got stuck in "Processing."  It seems I'd forgotten to send in the required processing fee.  Because ain't nothin' free in this world.  Even a martyr has to pay her dues.  It didn't cost much, really.  It was a fee I already paid each and every day, which is probably why I overlooked it on the application.  I'd spent so much of it, I hardly even missed my Happiness.

I slunk away from behind the podium, embarrassed and confused.  Where had I gone wrong?  Where was my prize?  Hadn't I tried and endured and given in and let go?  My heart was so turned in on itself, I didn't hear God's footsteps as He graciously took back His position of glory.

Every time I claimed a sacrifice, I was making my life about me.  What I'd done.  What I'd endured.  What I'd given up.  I was giving myself the glory.  

It wasn't until God turned my heart toward Him that I was able to see that my Sacrifices, my Suffering, my Struggles, were all of my own making.  I was never a Victim.  I volunteered for the life I was living.  I allowed people to make me feel unworthy.  I allowed guilt to make my choices for me.  I allowed fear to keep me in chains.  I allowed people to take advantage of me.  I created that life, and then I justified every bad choice I made by blaming it on all I'd Sacrificed.  I wrote out my Happiness check each and every day, and gladly handed it over to Misery, as if I owed him.

When it comes to martyrdom, there's never a winner.  Oh, you can get close - so close, you can taste it.  It's what keeps you coming back for more.  The vindication!  The absolution!  Not to mention the bonus, the free gift with purchase, that hides all of your own defects under the martyr's mask.  Sure, martyrdom is expensive.  And it has a bad aftertaste.  Not to mention, it always leaves you hungry for more.  But it feels so good.  Who cares what it costs?

The Girl Behind the Podium doesn't.  The Girl Behind the Podium is still waiting for her prize.  She's filling out new applications, and ticking off new sacrifices left and right, as she continues to chase the spotlight.

But I don't belong in the spotlight.  There is only one Light, and it won't shine on the Girl Behind the Podium, no matter how many applications she submits.  God calls the sinners, not the martyrs.  And the only thing God has called me to do is turn my life over to Him.  From there, it's just about following the Light.  It hasn't been easy so far.  I've had to do some things I haven't really wanted to do.  I've been scared.  I've gotten discouraged.  I've been angry.  I've stumbled and I've wanted to quit.  But when I start to feel like I'm sacrificing, I know it's time to look at myself and see if the choices I'm making are God's will.  God doesn't call me to sacrifice, He calls me to follow.  If I'm making my choices about me - my fears or my doubts or my desires - that's my will, not His.

Because it's no sacrifice to give Him your life.  The prize you receive in return is totally worth it.

No application required.