Way back when I first dreamed up the story of Seekers of the Lost Boy, I don’t think I could’ve even begun to fathom the journey that it would take.  And yet, here it is – published and already being shared with the world.

In these last few weeks, as the release date has come closer and closer, I’ve found myself wrestling more intensely with doubts and insecurities.  What do I share on my Facebook page?  When does marketing become shameless self-glory?  What’s going on in my heart?  What do other people think?  Ah!  What are they going to think when they read the book?  What if they hate it?  What if I offend people terribly?  What if… 

Well, the list goes on.  In my more susceptible moments, I do find myself mulling over these things.  When I remind myself of certain basic truths, I’m able to break away from the soul-destroying nature of the questions that eat away. 

Recently, I re-read the book The Freedom of Self-forgetfulness by Tim Keller.  It is a booklet really – a short exposition of  a passage in 1 Corinthians where Paul chastises the Corinthians for placing people on pedestals.  Keller examines the issue of ego, especially in the light of our contemporary society’s fixation with self-esteem.  His book has been most helpful to me in reminding me, once again, that our worth, our esteem, our everything is found in Jesus.  It’s not who I am; it’s whose I am. 

He has a really helpful passage that reads:

Friends, wouldn’t you want to be a person who does not need honour – nor is afraid of it? Someone who does not lust for recognition – nor, on the other hand, is frightened to death of it? Don’t you want to be the kind of person who, when they see themselves in a mirror or reflected in a shop window, does not admire what they see but does not cringe either? Wouldn’t you like to be the type of person who, in their imaginary life, does not sit around fantasising about hitting self-esteem home-runs, daydreaming about successes that gives them the edge over others? Or perhaps you tend to beat yourself up and to be tormented by regrets. Wouldn’t you like to be free of them? Wouldn’t you like to be the skater who wins the silver, and yet is thrilled about those three triple jumps that the gold medal winner did? To love it the way you love a sunrise? Just to love the fact that it was done? For it not to matter whether it was their success or your success? Not to care if they did it or you did it? You are as happy that they did it as if you had done it yourself – because you are just so happy to see it.

You will probably say that you do not know anybody like that. But this is the possibility for you and me … This is gospel-humility, blessed self-forgetfulness. Not thinking more of myself as in modern cultures, or less of myself as in traditional cultures. Simply thinking of myself less.

And there is the rub – it’s not actually about what people think of me or what I think of myself.  It’s about Jesus.  What does He think?  What does He require of me?  How can I serve Him?  And, when I think like that, well, what do you know, the agonising questions fade into insignificance.  I find myself thinking of myself less.  And how others perceive my actions and decisions holds no weight against how God perceives them.  So, like Paul, I’m able to say that while I may not be innocent, my conscience is clear.  And onward in serving Him I can strive.