Nametag pride

My friend Steph wrote about identity, security, and pride the other day. She's taking a break from the music school, becoming part of what the IHOP culture calls "a nameless, faceless generation"...people who pray without exalting themselves, without looking for honor from others—people who are hidden in prayer, serving in secret. She took off her nametag, and here's what she has to say:

I find myself utterly devoid of title, unnamed and more or less unknown ... This is a good place to be. This is where God meets people and starts to whisper to them who they really are.

Read her post; it's short and it's good.

I too have felt "nametag pride." Mostly during conferences, when I think, "Look at all these people. They're just visitors, but I belong. I have a nametag. I'm on the Sacred Trust wall. I am a regular part of the prayer room. I am somebody."

Then I realize I've been talking about myself so much that I haven't spent much time with the L-rd. And when I try to pray, I am as dry as dead bones. A coat of whitewash slapped over the dusty hidden place, hiding empty darkness...no light because I have no oil...no echoes because I said nothing...

My name is written in the book of life. That's the only place of honor that should matter, the only identity that should matter.

My job is to serve in the place of prayer. That's what I should spend my time and energy focusing on, not on promoting myself and building up my pride.

Yeshua knew humility. Thirty years in isolation, training in obedience and identity and constant prayer. Forty days in the desert. He knew His identity and His mission when He came out of that wilderness, and not once did He puff Himself up with pride. I need to be more like Him.

Thanks for the wake-up call, Steph.