We can edit until the edges are frayed.
We can critique until the critics collapse.
We can pinch and pull and prod trying to create a perfect pizza dough circle.
We can count calories and carbs and check our Fitbit and check boxes trying to create a perfect image.
We can pendulum swing from one extreme right back to the opposite side until the clock hands twirl around the face in a dizzying dance and we we wake up enough to realize we have no idea what we’re doing.
We can choose to chase after recognition, riches or rewards until we don’t even recognize the face in the mirror.
It’s not that most of these things are terrible goals or dreams or hobbies. Life is a beautiful gift and it is full of beautiful gifts, pursuits and passions.
It’s when we start looking for our value in the carefully curated pictures, the perfect pizza, the edited manuscript. When our value is a number on the scales, number of friends or followers, number in our bank account.
When our art, our pursuing, our creation takes preeminence over the Creator.
That’s when I need to do a lot of red inking and editing of my own heart.
Close your eyes and savor the pizza aroma. Cheer over that completed, well-edited pile of pages. Crush that Fitbit goal.
Clasp your hands together, then. Lift joyful eyes to heaven, centered on Christ.
{A total aside: Want a dash of humor to go with your pizza? Check out Skiing Stereotypes|Dude Perfect on YouTube.}😄
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