Why am I writing this blog?

I started my first post going in the direction of talking about a desire for attention and recognition, but that kinda devolved into rambling about the false self as a whole. I think I ended up straying away from the original topic in part because I don't want to call attention to my insecurities and my struggles. I don't know when I first got the idea to write a blog, but the moment the idea popped into my head, I came face to face with a very familiar struggle:

Can I rightly initiate something that should be God-driven?

Can I be humble and also believe that I am wise enough to say anything important?

Can my actions be anything other than sinful if my motives are partially selfish?

These questions aren't so much the thoughts that I am thinking in the midst of struggle, but they are the best I can do to represent the tension that I feel in my heart. I spent like 15 minutes trying to word those questions well. It's a helpful exercise, because instead of becoming lost in the tension that I feel as thoughts circle aimlessly around my head, I can turn a critical eye to the state of my heart in a way that I'm familiar with. If someone were to come up to me on the street and ask me these questions, I would probably point out that every one of those questions has some fundamental flaw or flaws. They're not difficult because their answers are hard to understand, they're difficult because they make flawed assumptions in the language used to ask them.

“Can I rightly initiate something that should be God-driven?” An unspoken implication in this question is that if something is God-driven, then it is not from me. The question plays into our tendency to see things from a 'this-or-that' perspective. Here, even before I can put words to what I'm feeling, I'm feeling a tension brought about by the assumption that something is either from me or it is from God. I feel some peace just in realizing that even though I haven't felt God leading me in a direct way toward creating a blog, that doesn't mean that I can't do it.

That being said, this question is not unimportant. I know from more experiences than I care to count, it's far too easy to turn a gift from God into an idol for myself.

“Can I be humble and also believe that I am wise enough to say anything important?”

I'm sure that for many of you, this question didn't sound right in your ears or left a bitter taste on your tongue. The idea of humble, the idea of wise, and even the concept of self are probably distorted in the way they are presented in this question. I don't feel like I have a great handle on the definition of humility, but I can be reasonably sure that it does not exist to make us doubt our gifts! As far as I can tell, this question could easily applied to pretty much any spiritual gift, not just wisdom:

Can I be humble and also believe that I am able to serve so-and-so in a meaningful way?

...to connect with God through prayer in a deep way?

...to lead others in studying the Bible?

...to provide care and compassion for others while they are hurting?

If I believe that I have something to offer, am I no longer being humble?

What a shame it would be if we all questioned our spiritual gifts this way! Such questions threaten to take away what is good about those gifts; they make us leery of our God-given talents. On another note, this question also calls attention to the way I overvalue wisdom. I don't question all of my talents and gifts this way, so why do I do so here? I think it's largely because I've elevated one of my spiritual gifts above all others. Part of why I feel presumptuous in calling myself wise is because I've made wisdom the best thing man can have. 1 Corinthians paints a much different picture of how we should treat spiritual gifts.

Lastly, this question also shows how I try to remove God from the equation. I often trick myself into thinking that when I do something good, I'm the only one responsible and that I deserve any recognition that I get. Instead I should rejoice that God has helped me to participate in the good work that He is always doing. Isn't it better to simply be part of something bigger than ourselves than to hang on to our trophies as they rust?

“Can my actions be anything other than sinful if my motives are partially selfish?”

The short answer? Yes.

First of all, it's very rare that our motives are ever pure. Secondly, who ever said that selfish motives are inherently sinful? God often gives us reasons why following Him is good for us. Half of Proverbs is about why doing good things is good for you. To some degree, I think we will always be vaguely me-centered people on this earth; after all, we only ever know our own experience. Where this becomes an issue is when my ends become more important than God's ends.

Just as those three questions were all different expressions of the same tension, so is there a unifying theme to answer them all. After all this processing, I feel as though I've made another step in learning how to navigate a struggle that that will be present as long as I live. There will never come a time when I will be able to live without checking my heart for pride and mixed motives. Furthermore, there will never come a time when I won't find some remnant of pride and self-focus. But that shouldn't stop me from moving forward and pursuing good things, even if I don't fully know how. It is only because God accepts and loves me that I can learn to accept myself as I try to live life.