Almost every guy I know has pretended to be a super-hero at some point in their childhood. Some still pretend to be even in their adulthood, but that's another blog for another time. As a kid I can remember taking our bathroom towels, beach towels, sheets or whatever and tying it around my neck, letting it flap behind me as I ran through the house, fists extended, simulating flying through the skyscrapers of a major city. Imaginary damsels were rescued and phantom evil doers were no match for a 6-year-old with a ratty beach towel and an imagination.I would bet that at some point everyone of us has dreamt of being the hero or the heroine, the superhero or the princess. There's a part of us that longs to fulfill the role of not only doing something good in the world, but having the applause of a grateful audience as well.
And it doesn't stop as we age. We do it all the time. Subconsciously or intentionally. When we watch movies or sports, reality television or read books or stories we often want to live vicariously through the hero of the moment. I wish I was Superman. I wish I was the American Idol. I wish I was the beautiful Bachelorette. I wish I was the one catching the winning touchdown.
I want to be the hero. I want to be the beautiful one.
When I started working at Starbuck's a little over a year ago, I put on my invisible beach-towel cape and determined to be the best, kindest, most hard-working barista in the store. I kept a good attitude, always did what I was asked and genuinely asked about the lives of the other baristas. I thought that if I could only let the heart of Jesus shine through my life then I hoped that would win my new friends and fellow latte-makers over. I would be Superman and hope they would be impressed.
The only problem was I couldn't keep it up.
I did for a few months. But then I begin to slip.
Eventually I said something I shouldn't have said. Eventually I took a shortcut in my work chores. Eventually I got frustrated and vented out-loud.
Eventually I didn't live up to the expectation of myself I had placed on my life.
Turns out Superman's cape was, in fact, only a towel.
That was when the Lord convicted me of something simple yet profound - at least for me.
I am not Jesus Christ.
I know, mind blowing. But what it meant to me was that the best way to reach the people around me for Jesus wasn't by trying to be Him by myself, but to be exactly what He has made me. I shouldn't try to be the savior they need, but should live as though I know the Savior who is. The truth was I thought I was living a life of holiness that would lead people to Jesus, but in reality I was trying to impress people with myself and trying to win them over to me.
Let me repeat that. Instead of connecting people to Jesus, I was trying to sell them on my life.
So rather then trying to live flawlessly before people at work and impress them into the Kingdom, maybe something better would have been to have simply worked well and cared for people, but be quick to acknowledge the grace that Jesus has given my life. Perhaps instead of trying to impress them by my amazing behavior I should have focused on letting the amazing grace in my life speak for itself. Maybe instead of trying to be the hero at the coffee shop I should have been more focused on letting Jesus be the hero of that store.
If I had it to do over again I would ask God to make me a barista of grace rather than a barista of excellence. I would ask God to help me show Jesus as the hero.
And I would leave my cape at home.
And I would believe that "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness." (2 Cor. 12:9).
There is something magical that happens when you realize life is better when you untie the towel from your shoulders.
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