I’m not proud of it, but last week, I had the realization that I have a God-complex.
Last Thursday, my husband and I were baking for an event we were having at church. The music was blaring through the house, and somewhere in the midst of that I could distinguish the ringtone of my phone. It was my mom. She asked me where I was, and it was a sharper, more immediate tone than normal. I told her we were at home. The next words out of her mouth were, “You need to go to our house. The garage is on fire.” I don’t even remember hanging up. I just remember telling my husband we needed to go.
We ran out the door. Houseshoes and all. As we pulled out of the driveway, I prayed. Out loud. For 8 blocks. Then, we ran up on a police vehicle blocking off the street. While I couldn’t see smoke or the garage, that’s never a very encouraging sign to me. We parked, and I ran half a block to my parents’ house in my houseshoes (which is not an easy thing to do). As I approached, I noticed that while there were three firetrucks and two police vehicles, they were all kind of standing around, no flames were shooting up toward the sky, and the garage door was open. After I got to talk to someone who told me it was all under control, I had the realization that even when I got there, there was nothing I could do.
I had no fire training. I couldn’t stop the fire with my hands. I couldn’t talk the fire department into doing a better job. All I could do was stand by and watch. Then, I thought I should call my mom and tell her everything was ok.
As stood in the middle of the street looking at the devastation that could have been I realize how good God is, and my eyes welled up with tears. In that moment, I realized how I so often want to save the day. In my very core, I feel like it’s my job to protect my friends, my husband, and my parents. All 5′ 1″ of me goes storming hell with a water a pistol, unprepared to fight the battle.
That’s hard for me to write. I am always prepared. I make lists. I mentally prepare for situations. I take charge. I am strong. I don’t give up. I have grit. Yet somehow, every time I think it’s my job to protect, I meet my end. I truly experience something beyond my capabilities.
I can’t fight a fire without training.
I can’t mend a friendship when I don’t even know half the parties involved.
I can’t save my friends going through divorces when one of them doesn’t want to try.
I can’t change people’s hearts.
I can’t truly save or protect heal.
I was never meant to be to someone that only God can be. He is Provider, Protector, Savior, Redeemer, Healer, Lover of our Souls. He melts hearts of stone. He performs miracles that seem impossible to this scientifically explained away world. He saves us from the pit and makes a way when there seems to be none. He alone is worthy of our praise, and yet I am so quick to forget. I forget I am just an instrument, a vessel God chooses to use for his glory, and I try to be him.
God can fathom the infinite. God sees the whole picture.
I can only fathom the finite. I only see a pixel at a time.
I have a God-complex. But I’m working on it. He alone is worthy of glory and honor and praise, and as far as it is for me to continuously remember that, I stood in the middle of the street last Thursday knowing, “Worthy is the Lamb.”
An Amarillo native, Keagan grew up teaching and preaching at her Barbies and baby dolls. She graduated from Randall High School in 2009, and moved up the street to West Texas A&M University to pursue a degree in Communication Studies. She met her precious husband Levi, and after graduating from college, they both taught high school. Keagan taught Speech & Debate for two years, and then the Lord began to call her away to become a Christian communicator and teacher of the Word to more than just Barbies and baby dolls. Keagan and Levi now live in Canyon with their two puppies. Please check out her blog here! I am super excited about this post because it directly addresses much of what Helicopter Mom is about… what perfect timing! Thanks sister! ~B