Who Do You Think You Are

Someone who takes liberties far above their responsibility may be harshly reprimanded. As a child when I got into something I had no business doing I remember hearing these words, “Who do you think you are.” That’s a good question. Who do we think we are? Is there a level of authority in which we should never desire to reach? When we think about who we have become is there a place of self gratification and self glorification that we need to avoid reaching? There are a lot of important people in our world. Just in our nation political, business, entertainment and sports celebrities may boast of their importance. But who are they, really?

I can’t answer for them, but I know who I am, and I have to keep reminding myself so that I am not tempted to desire glory for myself.

I am the dust of the earth.

I am mortal, I am going to die.

Life will continue to move ahead after I die.

I am one who can be replaced.

Like my ancestors I will become just another branch, a hidden leaf on the family tree.

I will be a picture, a smile, a memory to a few.

All that I have accumulated will belong to someone else after I’m gone.

I am the beggar at the intersection.

I am the homeless person under the bridge.

I am the drug addict looking for a fix.

I am the refuge, the one in prison, the abused child or wife, the lonely person in a nursing home.

I am a teacher, a preacher, a protester, a drug dealer, a prostitute.

I am one who will be forgotten, just as I have already been forgotten by friends and acquaintances from many years past.

I will become a character in stories told by my family as they gather at Christmas or some other occasion. They will laugh as they remember who I was and what I did. When they are gone the stories will be told no more.

I am one who cannot boast of awards, or trophies, or elegant accolades. I cannot claim any acts of greatness or any extraordinary feats.

I can be proud of some of the things I’ve done, yet I will leave this world knowing I could have done better, should have done better.

I am one who has been loved.

I am one loved by God.

I am his child.

And I know that he is the one who should receive all the glory.

Without him I could do nothing.

I have been just dust, just clay in the hands of Almighty God who molded me into the vessel he wanted me to be— to be useful to him so that he would be glorified.

I know this was the reason I was created, the reason he made us all.

That’s all I am, but isn’t that enough?