A couple of weeks ago, my girlfriend and I roamed the shelves of Books-A-Million. (Yes, we actually had a date in a bookstore). All went well until I spotted some merchandise. But not just any merchandise. Much to my disappointment, I saw action figures and other items based upon an individual who—in my opinion—shouldn’t be celebrated.
My frustration must’ve been obvious. Eventually, my girlfriend asked me who the publicized woman was. The woman found in action figure form. And I responded, “She’s a very horrible person.” Out loud. With a touch of fury. And a whole lot of regret.
It’s a cry from my heart. A longing of my soul. I desperately desire to be found humble at the feet of Jesus.
I’ve been the one surrounded by people after preaching a sermon. I’ve been the one who gets a standing ovation. I’ve been the hesitant recipient of praise from people. And through it all, my heart cries, “Keep me humble, Lord.”
After all, “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall” (Prov. 16:18 ESV).
I deleted Instagram. One of the most popular social networks in the world. A photo sharing platform used by one billion people. And I’m no longer one of them.
Why? Not because it’s bad. I’m not discouraging people from using it. Instead, there’s something about Instagram that causes me to stumble. Let me explain.
Jogging is one of my favorite pastimes. Headphones on ears. Music higher than it should be. And something to track my mileage. Now, like most things, there’s an app for that. Samsung Health is my go-to.
But it’s difficult to use an app for the amount of distance I run. Anywhere between three to seven miles. And since I’m on the road for at least thirty minutes at a time, it’s inconvenient. Why? Because I’m unlocking my phone to view my current pace, distance, and time while simultaneously running.
Until last Monday. That’s when I turned on my Fitbit Surge for the first time in over a year.