Pedestals

I’m taking a sledgehammer to every pedestal in my heart, any place that wants to exalt something other than Jesus. I’m knockin’ ’em down, takin’ ’em out. I got no time for false things. So, before I make an idol out of an ideology, desire, person, money, etc, I am smashing the pedestals they could stand on.

The making of idols begins by carving out space for it in our lives. Once we entertain the idea, we welcome it and give it real estate. The longer it is there, the more special it becomes. So we build a home for it, set it up, and crown it with affection. It now has a throne in our hearts. But it will never be enough. Idols are never satisfied, nor do they satisfy. They keep beckoning for counterparts. Carve more room, build more pedestals, crown more idols. Before we know it, our trust, affections, and wonderment bow to lifeless ideas, vain imaginations–vapors. Our heart divides against itself.

But. We’ve been given divine weapons. For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ,
2 Corinthians 10:3-4

So I’m taking out the pedestals, the self-exalting cries. There is a one-seat throne in my heart reserved for Jesus, my king. His praises fill my heart and life. His life fills my veins. His light shines in every corner. I am undone! He is undoing all my conformities as I turn my eyes from idols and look at him. I am being transformed. Can you see his eyes in mine yet? Can you see his love in mine? Can you see his wisdom, his mercy, his pureness, his weight–his glory in my life yet? There is no room for any other.

For example.

Sorry, Hollywood, my heart is reserved for the kingdom of God.

Sorry, money, my heart’s treasure is the LORD. He is my provider.

Sorry, political spirit. There is no room in my inn for you or your religious brother.

Get out of here, too, the need to know, the need to be in the know, the need to be right, and the need to be acknowledged. Ain’t got time for that.

Fame, there is only one found worthy.

Fear, nope.

Sorry perversion, you’re a mangled mess. I belong to Jesus, and he is the heavyweight belt of truth around my waist. Undefeated Champion!

Sorry, old wounds. We have new clothes to wear. You are healed, redeemed, and made new in Christ. Whoo!

Sorry, self, and to all your offshoots, it’s no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me. There is no room for any other.