My hero!

When I was growing up, some of the “heroes” I looked up to (no joke) were: my mom, my grandpa, the reigning Miss America, and Daisy Duke. (Yes, I really thought Daisy was something special. I thought she was the most beautiful person. I can’t explain it, really. I’ve stopped trying!)

But as I grow older, my heroes have shifted a bit. My mom is still there, but I now I know her as someone whose struggling to live this life of faith as much as I am. I can see my grandfather with the clarity of adult eyes and thank God for the work He did in his life. But as far as celebrities, Miss Americas, and public figures, few of them make my list of heroes these days.

Instead, I find myself yearning to be like that coworker who is always joyful, even when things are going wrong and she doesn’t feel well. I long for that quiet peace of an older woman in my church. I think about two women from the church I grew up in (both of whom have passed away) and want to be like them, serving others, putting others first, giving of themselves even when by the world’s standards they didn’t have much to give. I want to be like that kid who finds joy in another’s success, instead of turning inward and focusing on himself.

My heroes are regular, everyday people who choose to live by faith and make that faith known in big and small ways. In smiles and kind words. In joy. In peace and patience. In sacrifice and times of blessing. People who don’t get hung up on ego, pride, or hurt feelings.

Because sometimes, especially, today, I feel those things lacking in my life. I too often feel ignored, forgotten, broken, jaded, and overwhelmed. I wish kind words were the first things that always came out of my mouth, but they aren’t. I say things I don’t mean. I get caught up in the cycle of my own ego and pride and forget that me getting my due or recognition really doesn’t matter. I’m selfish when I could be giving. I’m sometimes so focused on myself I can’t see the needs of others.

Because I see and know all my flaws well. But the truth is, I don’t have to stay mired in them. I can choose to “practice righteousness,” as my pastor likes to put it. I can choose to say the kind words, to serve, to put others’ needs before my own. And on a day when the weight of my flaws seems heavy, I’m going to choose to practice the principles Jesus taught. To love my neighbor as myself. To love the Lord my God.

I understand the promise Jesus made that the life of faith isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s not.

And maybe understanding that will help me to become a little more like my heroes of the faith.