Mush

Do not think of yourselves more highly than you ought . . . ~ Romans 12:3b

I was responsible for a recipe gone wrong. Everybody knew it. Especially the potato salad maker.

It was a lazy summer afternoon. Our family had been invited over to a special writer friend's house for a BBQ. Kids were encouraged to bring their swim gear, while parents signed up to bring a dish.

What could I bring? I thought. I want to really dazzle them with something that will minister to their tummies and bless their hearts. I know . . . my potato salad will be just the thing!

A five pound bag of potatoes later, I stood in my kitchen, mixing the final ingredients. Egg, mayonnaise, mustard, dill weed, pickles, a touch of salt . . . I carefully placed the glop into one of my finest bowls, and sprinkled the last bit of paprika on for color.

Later on, while the adults spent time chewing the fat, the kids were enjoying the pool. It was time for dinner. After drying the kids off, we formed a single line around the kitchen island. Everybody's contribution to the meal brought great anticipation. Hot dogs and chicken, garlic bread, pretzel salad. My potato salad stood smack dab in the middle. If there were a trophy for beauty, I would have taken first.

I got my plate, and chose a seat on the picnic bench. What happened next was devastating. Cutting into my meat . . . yummy. A bite of bread . . . delicious. Then, I brought my own masterpiece up to my mouth, and with a bite of regret I forced the swallow.

My potato salad was terrible. I knew it. Everybody else knew it too. My mind scrambled for an answer. Was it the fact that I tried to double the recipe? Were the potatoes bad? Not enough mustard?

Emotions flooded me, but I continued to force a smile. I hated to disappoint my new friends, and more than anything else to be known as such a terrible cook.

I chose not to say anything about the potato salad that day. I did not want anybody to feel the need to lie and tell me that it was good. Silly as it may sound, I felt like the potato salad reflected on me. Looking pretty good on the outside most of the time, these folks are soon going to see that underneath the garnish is a tasteless scoop of mush.

Every felt like a bland bowl of salad? Do you err on the side of performance like I do? Thinking that what you do or don't do dictates your worth?

My bout with potatoes that day taught me an important lesson about identity. My salad may have been a flop, but the disaster did not determine my worth. God allowed my recipe to take a dive, to point several unhealthy patterns of thinking out. People pleasing does not contribute to an solid sense of self worth. Ministering to others is one thing. Having to get it perfect can be quite another.

I encourage you today to chalk up your own failures to God's view of success. The Lord detests pride of any kind, even the potato salad kind. Do not think more highly of yourself than you ought. Let the love of the Lord, and not a bowl of starch dictate every thought you have about yourself.

And when your own potato salad trophy (pride) rears it's ugly head, force a smile and swallow, knowing that humiliation cann be one of the Lord's greatest gifts.