don’t cry for me, Argentina
for I am ordinary, unimportant
and undeserving of such attention
unless we all are . . . I think we all are . . .

(from Evita)

I am never quite sure what to do with it when people refer to me as “remarkable”, or any of the other adjectives that people use to try to express that perhaps there is something unique about me . . .

I don’t like to go up and ask for prayer at church and have the person start praying for me and my “ministry”. As soon as it’s labelled a “ministry”, it puts me on a pedestal and accentuates the power differential that I’m trying so hard not to acknowledge or admit to. And I didn’t come to ask for prayer for myself . . . I came to ask the person to join me in prayer for my friend. The mention of/prayer for me makes me feel like I have come to the altar with less-than-pure motives, as if the person suspected that I was fishing for compliments . . . “what a saint you are for helping her out” . . .

I’m sure I have those motives buried somewhere deep within the darker regions of my heart, but that doesn’t mean I want to be reminded of them . . .

I don’t like to hear a woman who is a hero of mine tell me what a “good friend” I am and have always been . . . as if the relationship was that one-sided, as if her impact on my life was somehow negligible.

I never know how to feel when people are fascinated by my life. It’s true, I have had quite an interesting life . . . but haven’t we all? I think that’s what I’m trying to get at with the lyrics above . . . don’t we ALL have a story worth telling?

Honestly, though, what bothers me most is that people can tell me again and again how “amazing” I am, or how “remarkable” I am, but apparently I am missing the mark if people are not connecting this to the fact that there is nothing amazing, nothing remarkable, nothing unique (okay, well, maybe a FEW things unique . . . ) about ME, but that what they are seeing is Jesus in me . . .

maybe there’s too much “me” and that’s why people can’t see it . . .

[what follows after the fold are some song lyrics, but they are overtly Jesus-y, so if you would rather not see them, you can stop reading at this point. Thanks!]

Conversations by Sara Groves

I don’t know how to say this,
I don’t know where to stand,
I don’t know where to put my feet,
Or where to put my hands.
I’ve got them in my pockets,
My fingers are freezing cold,
They’re wrapped around a ticket stub
That’s four weeks old,
And I don’t know how to say this.

I think we’ve figured out
This world is bigger than you and I.
We’ve exhausted our wealth of knowledge
And have no more answers for mankind.

We’ve had every conversation in the world
About what is right and what has all gone bad,
But have I mentioned to you that this is all I am,
This is all that I have.

I’m not trying to judge you.
No that’s not my job.
I am just a seeker too,
In search of God.

Somewhere somehow this subject became taboo.
I have no other way to communicate to you.
This is all that I am.
This is all that I have.

And we’ve had every conversation in the world
About what is right and what has all gone bad,
But have I mentioned to you that this is all I am,
This is all that I have.

I would like to share with you
What makes me complete.
I don’t claim to have found the Truth,
But I know it has found me.

The only thing that isn’t meaningless to me
Is Jesus Christ and the way he set me free.
This is all that I have. This is all that I am.
It’s all that I have, and it’s all

The only thing that isn’t meaningless to me
Is Jesus Christ and the way he set me free.
And this is all that I have. This is all that I am
It’s all that I have, and it’s all that I am
It’s all that I have, and it’s all

I don’t know how to say this
I don’t know where to start
Just know that I care for you
And I’m speaking from my heart