Imagine: Forgetting That You Are Famous

I don't normally quote on here, but I found this article from Stuff
Christians Like particularly amazing:

"The only time I've ever been recognized was not as weird as I thought
it would be. I guess in my head I envisioned my family and I would be
walking in the mall and some stranger would exclaim, "Jon Acuff? The
Jon Acuff? Wow, it is you!" Then I would blush and maybe shield my
kids behind me with my arm because this person's adoration would be so
intense. They'd say, "Oh, please, say something that is both sarcastic
and insightful at the same time. You're so wise and adequately
heighted." I'd correct them on the use of the word "heighted" which is
actually not a word, and then I'd say two or three off-the-cuff
sentences that would change their life and then maybe sign their arm
or a Bible if it were available. Seems like a pretty reasonable
expectation, right?

It didn't happen like that. A guy just walked up to me at church and
introduced himself. We talked for a few minutes about Stuff Christians
Like. The whole thing was over before I knew it and was pretty
uneventful. Which is probably exactly how God wanted it.

I tend to get ego drunk pretty quickly. When people compliment me,
outwardly I do the Christian courtesy of immediately rejecting the
kind words. Inwardly though, I'm often drinking in their kindness and
doing a little "look how awesome I am" dance. I'm patting myself on
the back with both arms and both legs at the same time, which is
difficult but not impossible since I've taken yoga twice. (Which may
or may not be "of the devil"–jury's still out on that one.)

Knowing that about myself, knowing I'm prone to massive "me parades,"
I am constantly wrestling with God over the unexpected growth of Stuff
Christians Like. There's a circle of famous Christians right now: big
pastors, authors who have written amazing books, speakers who stalk
conference stages like cougars. And I wanted to be inside it. I wanted
to become a famous Christian.

One night while jogging, I confessed that to God. As ugly and as
shallow as this sounds, I said to Him, "God, I want my story to give
me fame. I want fame. I want to be famous."

In a split second, I felt like God laughed. Not at me, but with me,
which is something I feel like He regularly does. In my heart, I heard:

"Ha! You want fame? The creator of the universe knows your name. The
Alpha and Omega knows who you are and what you care about. That's as
famous as you're ever going to be. Whose acknowledgment of you is
going to stand up next to mine?"

At that point, I started laughing too, because He was right. I'm
already famous. God knew me in the womb. He knows how many hairs are
on my head. He's my absolutely biggest fan and I'm famous in His eyes.
So are you. He's got a blog about you that is simply astounding. He
follows you on Twitter and started a fan group dedicated to you on
Facebook. He can't stop talking about you and pouring out love on you.

Is whatever you're doing right now in life going to make you famous?
Maybe it will, maybe it won't. But ultimately it doesn't matter. As
Christians, we've already peaked. We can stop worrying about trying to
become famous Christians. That's done.

We are all famous.

Original article at http://stufffchristianslike.blogspot.com/2009/05/537-forgetting-that-you-are-famous.html