See Part 1 of Down Below.

Jesus couldn’t care less.

When the God of the Universe humbled himself by becoming human, he didn’t even try to cling to a place of position. Jesus could have been born in a castle, He was born in a manger. With all of His teaching and healing abilities, He could have easily started a revolution and become a powerful earthly king. Instead, when people tried to make Him their king, Jesus went into hiding. When He was convicted of blasphemy, He could have silenced His accusers; rather it was Him who remained quiet. Him, who died a criminal’s death.

The most renowned man who ever lived, never held an earthly title higher than son, brother, friend, carpenter, and rabbi. First of all, why would the Creator of all things need one? But second, through his life, I think Jesus was asking us, why do we? Why do we need titles and a place at “the top?” Why do we need a position to feel important, if before we are even conceived (Psalm 139), we have a place in His heart?

That day, waiting for the sunset at Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse, I judged a photographer for taking the highest spot on the beach—when I had been seeking the highest spot for much of my life. Since college, one of my most profound struggles has been seeking after places of position, without allowing them to define me. God has gifted me with the abilities to be an effective leader, so often in my mind I have wondered—why shouldn’t I seek after the top spot? Or, why am I not in a higher position?

This tension came to a painful head, five years ago, when I felt God leading me to leave my job.  It was a position that both released me to do the things I was called to do, and constricted me from them. I could either choose to stay painfully small, or follow Him to where He was leading me. I followed Him. Except, what I didn’t realize was that He was leading me into five years without any title, job, or tangible position. It was time for a power detox.

My identity, wrapped up in the title I had held for most of my twenties, was stripped from me. Who was I without my position? Without an organization standing behind me? Thankfully, I didn’t have to wonder long. Without even trying, opportunities to lead Bible studies, mentor young women leaders and students, etc., kept coming my way.  No church or organization pursued me. There hasn’t been a fancy title or paycheck, but God never stopped using me. He called me to the fringes.

Former students who had fallen away from the church or outgrown ministry specific to their age, have been in my charge. Out of the blue phone calls or chance meetings in parking lots have opened up avenues to minister that never would have happened had I had a title and a “real” job. Starbucks, our dinning room table, or our living room have been my office, and no one has seemed to mind.

Though for a good part of the past five years I have inwardly fought against being a woman who is insignificant in our world’s economy, something within is beginning to shift. What I used think was important—being “on top”—I am beginning to see is only temporary. Power that is gained by a title is limiting, whereas power gained by loving and serving others multiplies.

Being on the top may seem glamorous. But many times, being on the bottom means being in the most expansive place—a space where you can most fully be who you have been created to be. Yes, being in a humble place can be messy and painful (so can being in a position of power), but it also can be the most life giving. I think that is one of the reasons that Jesus stayed “small,” while He was on earth.

That night, at Bass Harbor Head, the sunset was amazing. The sky turned blue, purple, and gold right before our eyes. Then, when everything went dark, Tony gathered up his gear and we went and found the most amazing Lobster Shack for dinner. As butter dripped down our fingers from dipping steamers and lobster meat, I said to Tony:

“It kinda sucked that that guy took over that whole boulder so no one else could shoot there.”

“Well, actually that wasn’t the best spot. With him shooting that high he would have only gotten the light house and missed all the cool rocks and jagged cliffs underneath.” He paused. “It was much better shooting from the bottom.”

You can check out the full photo that Tony took here.

Have you ever found that the view was better “down below?”

 

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