Know-It-All

I remember standing behind the lectern, laser pointer in hand. Teaching, leading, I imparted knowledge and inspired action. But to be honest, I was no expert.

Hundreds of times I looked at eager eyes from the chairs pulled into a circle. Opening the book, pointing out history and theology and imagery, everyone said how great it was. I really didn’t know anything more than anyone else.

A long time ago I took a position behind the pulpit, preaching God’s word with eloquence and wisdom. But I didn’t always believe what I spoke. I didn’t always live by the tenants.

I led marriage enrichment classes and then let mine slip away. I talked to men about purity and let the sewage seep into my own life. I taught about families and now mine is in chaos.

Now I am back to learning the basics myself. Those red letters speak to me. “Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened to you.”

I know that I need answers, but I struggle with the asking. Suddenly, I don’t know what to do . . . and that just is so humbling.

Asking for help is an exercise that cuts to the core of my pride. It means that my knowledge is deficient, my experience inadequate or my basis lacking.

I have filing cabinets full of folders, shelves lined with books and hard drives full of notes and that might impress you. But the know-it-all I once was is back to lying on my chest, inching toward the clear water, dipping my lips and drinking, just like it was the first time.

And for this place, I give thanks.

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