The Dichotomy of Decreasing

Today's post comes from Sarah Van Beveren, a blogger from Ontario, Canada. Hope you'll check out her blog and give her a follow on Twitter.  Divorce came looking for my family when I was six. My earliest memory is a moment on the driveway, saying goodbye while being reassured that this wasn't goodbye. I didn't understand the normalcy of divorce, that this happens to half of us, and in my naive eyes we had created this mess. He would be living in the basement of family friends, and the only concern I remember having, was that their daughters would see him more than I would. And in a split second our family went from nuclear to broken, and there we stood. Devoured. And a seed of self-doubt was planted inside of me.

I have known the feeling of looking back on your life and realizing that decades have been spent on a fool's errand. The search for personal glory and belonging in a world that never seems to deliver. It took me years to realize that insecurity and pride can coexist in the same soul. Insecurity was my wound but arrogance was my salve, and the need to be recognized hardened my heart.

I have broken my back to find worth in myself, worth given to me by this world, and have come up empty. The simple truth is that I am not meant to deliver myself and have no need, because deliverance has been had for me.

I think of John the Baptist, a man with a voice that was ripe with anticipation. He didn't bother with bandages or aids, no time to fuss with temporary helps, healing was on its way. He called out in the wilderness and prepared a way for the Light that was to be revealed. He knew where his worth came from, the Lamb of God who came before all of us and has surpassed each of us. His assurance in the eternal always makes me stop and pause.

The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom's voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. John 3:29

I have spent most of my life unaware and unsatisfied with my identity, desperate to climb higher than the position of attendant. But John had no interest in himself, he knew where he stood. He was not envious that the bridegroom was the greatest of all or that all eyes would be watching him. John wanted this; his life's desire was to see this flesh out. And not because of any credit or accolade he would receive in his life, we know what John endured. But because he believed and he knew Christ was his life.

He had no desire to be the bridegroom, only desire for the bridegroom, and he rejoiced at the sound of his voice. What God had called him to do, the path he was chosen to make a way for, had arrived. And his joy was now complete.

I think of my own struggle for fulfillment and I think of John. How there is no new joy left for me to find, no new treasure for me to discover. Joy is here, complete and full and mine to claim. And with this joy I will seek to be poor in spirit, and see the kingdom of heaven. To mourn, and be comforted. To practice meekness, and inherit the earth. To hunger and thirst, and be filled. To be pure of heart, and see God.

He must increase, but I must decrease. John 3:30