Exalted

“ For I am the least of the apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain; but I laboured more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. ”

What have we to be so proud of? What are we that we can't ever be wrong, ever be pitied, ever have the last piece, ever need to learn something new? Pride fills our hollow sails with air, and yet we think we are moving of our own power. Our souls yearn for something high, yet to grasp at what is high is the best way to be found out for who and what you are: nobody special.

My father has been an actor in Hollywood. He played parts in movies and television for a successful career that spanned over 50 years. At the age of 80 he finally retired. He rubbed shoulders with the greatest talents ever, and yet was never considered a star. He was third billing on the biggest daytime TV show year after year, and yet he ended his career playing the same role: in actor's parlance, holding a spear. There is no place on earth where being exalted one day and abased the next can happen so fast and in such extremes than Hollywood—except maybe Washington. My dad's career compared to most others was smooth sailing.

During his career, he didn't attend too many of the actor parties, but a few of the times he did, I was present. I would occasionally see faces I'd recognize from the screen, and watch and hear the real person behind the makeup. That's one of the strangest experiences of my life. I knew my dad's persona. What I saw and heard in the actions and words of the Hollywood hopeful was a kind of insatiable lust for fame, a need to please, a desperation to be loved and adored, a demand to be worshipped, a plea not to be left out of the light. When the spotlight of show business twists its fickle beam of fame on you, its power is instantly addictive, enthralling, personality changing, and makes one seem to be a complete phony.

In Hollywood, a dialect of English , “Hello,” is “Oh, you look wonderful!” “I like you” is “Let's do something together.” In Hollywood, Jesus' words about being humble and taking the lowest seat seem so foreign, even career suicide. Striving for attention is survival. I've watched it so long that I decided never to be an actor. My dad managed to remain a real person through it all, and his favorite golfing buddies now are just members of his church, fellow war veterans, and a one-legged man. The Hollywood drug never really addicted him to its complete thrall, for which I'm happy.

I was in ninth grade, tall, awkward, and hopelessly shy. But I had a chromatic harmonica and I'd learned to play Moon River and Toys in the Attic on it. So I put my name in for the class talent show and stood on the stage in front of all my friends and played the music. I never figured out how I managed to get up there and make such a fool of myself, how I overcame so much reluctance, fear, stage fright like a plague—but I did.

What makes us want to be seen? What is it that causes us to take the floor, tell the loudest joke, try to be the center of attention, get cat calls, earn respect of even strangers, crawl our way to some pinnacle of achievement, have a corner office with a view? What makes people plaster their car bumpers with signs that say, “My child made the honor roll at something or other school”? Are we afraid that, as simply normal average people we'll be exiled to the island of normal average people?

Now it's true that some people like to walk unseen. They sit in darkened corners, look out and observe while not being observed. They evaluate everyone else, and avoid the light, shy away from encounters. Does that make them humble while the rest of us are trying to get a laugh or get looked at?

People really are weird. God knew that. He didn't make the weirdness, but He understands it. He watches us play our pathetic puny little games for the attention of others, but walk right by Him, hoping for another admirer. If we pray, our prayers are full of ourselves, our drama, our shallow desires, our demands for His assistance with our careers. I'm happy that God has a sense of humor, and patience, because what He sees in us can't please Him.

To exalt or abase: it seems so simple. Our eyes see one thing, but fail to see the flip side. We think fame is great and insignificance is death. Do you realize that for most of my life I couldn't go to a restaurant with my dad without half the clientele and all the help spotting him and making a scene? Every waitress in America loved my dad, and wanted him to sign a napkin. He had to be nice to a teenager who held his finger under dad's nose while loudly recounting the entire plot line of General Hospital, including how dad's TV wife was in a mental hospital, at an A&W in Lone Pine. We just wanted to go camping. Fame is terrible. There is a price to pay.

St. Paul told the Corinthians a number of times what it cost him to be St. Paul. He humbly places himself at the end of the list of Apostles, the “least of the apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain; but I laboured more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.” St. Paul makes himself low, unworthy because at one time he rounded up Christians and had them executed. But by the grace of God, he's now working harder than all the apostles for the salvation of the Gentiles. That isn't the end of it. Not by half.

“Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep; In journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; In weariness and painfulness, in watchings often , in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness.” 2 Cor 11: 24-27 This was the price of fame. Paul was now famous, an infamous outcast and criminal to the Jews and the Gentiles. His fame got him before the Roman Emperor, Nero. Paul was beheaded for his fame.

We don't need to recount at length the price Jesus paid for His popularity. There is a downside to being exalted— in this world. The minute anyone holds his head up above another, he is the target of envy.

Our schools learned the word “self-esteem” a generation ago, and have been trying to instill it in the children under their care. Self-esteem, however, is that air that fills hollow sails. It's made of nothing and gets you—where? I'm not advocating self-trashing, claiming only evil of oneself. In the strangest way, such lack of self-esteem is just pride undercover, the man in the shadows looking out. So: who and what do we need to be?

Jesus told His parable about the Pharisee and the publican to make a point, not to promote the life of publicans. Pharisees were regarded by all as holy men, living disciplined lives of ritual purity. But they were proud. Jesus' Pharisee was exceedingly so, and doubtlessly the crowd hearing His words recognized Pharisees, even though none might dare to utter out loud such a prayer in the Temple. “God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are… even as this publican. I fast, I give tithes...” A worthless prayer: what is he seeking but to be exalted by God. Not forgiven. Not restored. Not brought back—for he thinks he's made it. The prayer of the poor taxman is better: “God be merciful to me a sinner.” It's like the Jesus prayer uttered by many Orthodox Christians with every heartbeat: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Jesus always seemed to be turning the tables around, or over as He did with the moneychangers. “… many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first. ” Mat 19:30 “ Whosoever shall seek to save his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life shall preserve it.” Luke 17:33 Pride leads to shame, while humility shall lead to glory, God Himself lifting you up. God will exalt you and give you His own honor, praise and glory. How can this be?

We know, in our heart of hearts, that we deserve punishment, exile, God's complete rejection. We also know that He doesn't want to do that. And we know that we want to be received, somehow, into heaven's realm of the Blessed. There is no easy formula, no quick prayer that does it. But it is easy.

The prophet Micah puts it succinctly: “ He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” Micah 6:8 Walk humbly. Make yourself out to be just whom and what you are. No pretence. No Hollywood spotlight. No fickle finger of fame. No legend. No polish. No pompadour. You have nothing that God wants—no possession that is not already His. What He wants is you: not the press kit about you, not the story you tell your friends, not the line you give the girls—the real you. Why does He want that? You've been walking too low a path. Every path based on man's wisdom is too low. The glare of the world's headlights blinds us to how glorious the path of simple humility is in the sight of God. Shut your eyes then and know the path of humility. You can't trick God into accepting you. The only way you can make Him laugh is to tell Him your plans. But you can make Him sad by trying to impress Him.

Jesus has turned the whole world upside down. But it's better that way.

PFH+