It struck me again today just how wretched I am and how Satan plays us. Here’s what happened.
I went to the downtown area with a Myanmar friend to do some shopping this morning. As I usually do, I hailed a taxi for the return trip home. We haggle for and agree on a price and then we’re on our way. My friend and the driver talk in Myanmar for a while, and I realise that part of what they’re talking about is me. I ask my friend what they’re saying and this begins some broken translation between the driver and me, with my poor friend trying to keep up as mouthpiece for us both.
The driver was extremely friendly and talkative and animated, though he was also a little strange. He had some peculiar mannerisms, twitches, and noises, but these all seemed to add to his character. I was noticing these in the midst of our conversation too, so I didn’t think too much of it.
We began talking the usual stuff, like where I’m from, what I’m doing, and the conversation moved to him and how old he was (73), how many children he had (6, all sons), how long he’d been driving taxis, and so on. Interspersed in his conversation were comments to me like, “You’re a good man”, or “I can see you love everybody”, and “You have a very kind nature”. There were a few others, but you get the drift.
Eventually the conversation died down and I sat there thinking, “If I could speak the language better I’d be able to explain to him that I’m not that great, but He who lives in me is” (also, we were only a couple of minutes from home and I didn’t really have the time to begin sharing the gospel through a translator). But the other thought that came into my head was, “I’m wretched, sure, but I am actually a nice guy and I do love all these people.” At that moment, the driver had more twitches and strange movements, nothing too demonstrative, but noticeable, and I wondered if maybe he was possessed. I’m not blessed with the gift to discern such things, but assumed he probably wasn’t. But I asked myself that if he was, what would Satan want to say to me through him. And then it occurred to me that maybe it had already been said. Whether Satan had spoken or not is immaterial, but what happened in me was not. I had been praised and my ego had been nicely stroked. In the midst of me just being me I had been made much of. Someone had said what my deceitful and desperately sick heart (Jer. 17:9) had thought of itself all along. I realised that if Satan wanted to get to me he could do it subtly and gently with these kinds of praises of man. I’d been blind-sided, subtly but significantly.
In this culture, these kind words of praise seems to happen a lot. It comes from church folks who are grateful for a sermon or some encouragement, from Bible college students who appreciate a lesson, from friends who might be treated to a meal or simply be included in something the Westerners are doing, and from people in the street who are touched by a smile and draw that out to mean you must be a kind and wonderful person. And it feels great.
Them saying it, and me letting them say it, isn’t the issue and neither are a sin. But it’s what I do with it that reveals the old man within that’s not yet dead. If my heart was right then there wouldn’t be a problem and I wouldn’t be writing this post, but my heart isn’t right. It enjoys the approval and praise of man too much.
I’m reminded of a warning Pastor John Piper gave to a conference of pastors (sorry, can’t find the original to cite). He asked of the pastors something along the lines of, “Do you finish a sermon and then look for some positive feedback as the congregation file past you at the door? Do you hope that God will be glorified by what you preached, but also secretly hope that the people will reserve some of that glory for you?” It struck me at the time and does again now.
If you were to ask me what I want most of all from being here in Myanmar, I’d quickly and easily say, “God to be glorified.” But after today’s taxi ride I’m checking myself again for that old man within who might want some of the glory to stick to me.
I’m a wretch of a sinner whose journey of sanctification is certainly a slow work in progress. Now before you more liberal-thinking Christians tell me that I’m not a sinner, but just a a saint who sins, take a look at the evidence and stop kidding yourselves and playing with words. We’re all of us sinners. We’re all of us lawbreakers. The difference we need to focus on is that though we sin and break the law numerous times a day, we’ve been chosen by a loving God who has made us believe that Christ is “he” (John 8:24). We’re no longer bound to the punishment we deserve, for our punishment was bound to Christ when he was bound to the cross. I’m a sinner, and a wretched one, but because of what God has done in Christ, I stand forgiven. So I’m a sinner and a saint.
But I digress. Can I ask that you’d pray for me as I go about the Lord’s work here? Please pray that I’d be so filled with the concern for God to be glorified that I’d not have time to want to take any of His glory upon myself.
In his 1978 song, Oh Lord, You’re Beautiful, Keith Green wrote:
I want to take your word and shine it all around.
But first help me to just, live it Lord.
And when I’m doing well, help me to never seek a crown.
For my reward is giving glory to you.
That’s what I’m after. That’s what I want my heart to want. Please pray that I’d not need or look for the approval of man, but only ever be interested in working to please an audience of one.
Thank you, and grace be with you,
Martin
This is the seventh in a 
