There seems to be a conversation happening in the back of my mind and the culture that, frankly, is driving me nuts.

It is the lie of More. To have More, to be More, it is a lie birthed in the garden and snaking its way into the hearts of believers and unbelievers alike. It is a lie I battle almost daily.

My struggle is not so much the having More. Yes, I covet, and I don’t say it lightly. There is that part of me that longs for a home with taller ceilings and wood floors, that believes in the middle of my depression that buying some worldly good will assuage the empty feeling that comes from being so … common. But really, my desire to have More links fast to my desire to be More. In which case, I need to remember that God doesn’t ask me to be More. He asks me to be Lauren, and that is enough.

Maybe you don’t struggle with the desire to be More. Stick around anyway; if anything, just so you can help us stragglers who get our signals crossed and our vision blurred. Maybe you can be our reminder to kick More to the curb. In the meantime:

Dear More,

You look good. You really do. Honestly, I want to be you quite often. I would like to say that I have no idea why that is, but I do know. I value God too little. His opinion, His Word- we are a bit disconnected at the moment, and the more time I spend with people who look like you, the louder the message is that I am not enough.

The trouble is I am forgetful. I forget that God was displaying love within Himself before the world was ever created, and when He did create human beings, He didn’t create a big crowd, placing one in charge to inspire and lead. He created one man and one woman to live and love and work in His creation. He called it very good. (I often forget the “very good” part.)

I have no problem remembering the great kings and leaders God worked through in the Bible. I just tend to forget their years as shepherds.

I forget that God sent His Son to be born into a family like mine. That Christ was given a mother, like me. An ordinary mother. An ordinary dad. An ordinary childhood. And that was enough.

I forget that when He called people to follow Him, He called regular people, like me. He called despised people. He paused conversations with the popular and respected so He could be merciful to broken people, like me, so He could show those who were “more” that He values the lowly. The humble.

I forget that He displayed His power in people healthy and afflicted alike.

I forget that He made miracles out of things like children’s lunches.

I forget that when the “important” apostles, the ones whose words we quote in church and home, were writing to churches, they were praising and mentioning those who were faithful right where they were. Those who weren’t necessarily called to distant lands, but who were called to carry Jesus into the mission field of their own neighborhood. I forget that God delights in His children regardless of geography and occupation.

I forget that I am called to simply fight the good fight because it is really all about Him.

I forget that when He comes back, He will be joining people of all nations to worship Him, and in that moment He will not look on me with disappointment, wondering why I didn’t make more of an impact for His kingdom. He will look on me with mercy, and love, and grace, and joy because I am His and we are finally together.

I forget that I am not called to be you, More. I am called to be Lauren. And what Lauren looks like is entirely up to God. It is He who made us and we are His.

And if that means that Lauren is just Lauren, then that is exactly the place God wants me to be. Those are roles He values, He enjoys. That is the place where He enjoys me and wants me to enjoy Him fully.

He wants me to enjoy Him in the laundry and the meal planning. When I hold a child in my home, and return the hugs of children in my house, my lawn, my church, my school. When I cuddle a sick kid or chat with a friend. When I vacuum, wash dishes, talk to my husband, make music, take a picture, write a sentence, help with homework, look a child in the eyes, brush my teeth- all those are moments He gave for me to enjoy Him.

More, you are nothing more than a dolled-up parasite. A white-washed tomb. And when God does place in me the dream and means to do something other than what I do now, I will take that step because I have a faithful God, not out of a desire to be you.

Absolutely and Sincerely,

Me

“He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.” Psalm 40:3