The great white hope. That's a thing. And as much as I want to hide under my covers and plug my ears, it exists. It exists, and I have to fight it.
When I offer anything of monetary value to the poor neighborhoods of my city or the orphans of Ethiopia, I have to fight thoughts that I have any kind of power or ability to be any kind of savior. Their thoughts and my thoughts are under attack.
I am by no means American standard wealthy. I never have been. My parents were dirt poor growing up, and my dad worked his tail end off making sure we were in that middle class bracket.
Most people don't know right off when they see me and my college educated self that my dad was a 9th grade drop-out who got his GED and my mom lived in the Ozarks with a single mom on government assistance. I was the first one in my mom's family and my dad's family to go away for college.
They don't know this about me. They see my white skin and my bright smile, and they imagine my easy life. I have to fight their thoughts that I have something big to offer besides Jesus, because I don't. I'm just a insecure, broken girl who loves obeying God.
But even more, I have to fight my thoughts. I'm a fixer. Tell me a problem, and sympathizing isn't going to be my first response. I'm going to be trying to solve it. My heart is leading my head to brainstorm ideas to change your circumstances.
I'm wrong. I know it. I should be praying, helping if I've got it, but letting God be God. He's the one in control. He's the great multi-colored savior. I don't want to stand in front of Him blocking anyone's view. Because He's the One.
So this is why I love wearing my bicycle helmet when we are doing summer ministry. I automatically look as goofy on the outside as I do on the inside.
This is me. I'm not fit or athletic. I'm silly, and I look it.
This is what Mary said about her coming son Jesus, "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name." (Luke 1:46-49 ESV)
This is my prayer. God, make me humble, help me magnify You because holy is Your name. Lord, help every man, woman, and child who sees me bringing corndogs on my bicycle know I'm just a goofy, silly girl that would do anything to bring the name of Jesus to their doorstep. Help them to see Your mighty great things and never attribute them to me. Give me opportunities to brag on you, God. Give me opportunities to share Your Word. Amen.
It doesn't fail that at some point during the summer someone starts singing this song. The irony is that it is a pretty good illustration of great white hope and the ultimate failure of human hope. It is crazy how a fun, catchy song could be so dark.