Confessions of a Minor Prophet

And do you seek great things for yourself? Seek them not. (Jeremiah 45:5).

I have a recurring nightmare that my tombstone will be engraved with the words:

Here lies Stanley M. Key

1953 – 20??

He lived a mediocre life.

R.I.P.

The adjective “mediocre” describes something that is ordinary, average, so-so, commonplace, unexceptional. Few things make me more depressed than to think that I would be remembered as a mediocre husband, father, friend, pastor, missionary, preacher, and author. Who wants to be average? Not me! Even as I write this blog, I’m mindful of my fear that you who read it will find my comments to be mundane and unremarkable.

Most movies that I watch are ho-hum. Most books that I read are run-of-the-mill. Most sermons that I listen to deserve a B-minus. And most people I meet are ordinary. I refuse to fit this mold!

Everything inside me rebels at the thought of being non-descript, vanilla, forgettable. I don’t

want to graduate from the school of life with a cumulative GPA of a middling 2.9. Yes, I scream at the thought of living a mediocre life.

These reflections cause me to ask myself: What is the origin of this disdain for mediocrity? Did it come from my parents, teachers, and pastors? When I was young, I remember how they all seemed to say the same thing: You are special and unique, so make your life count. You are destined for greatness, so, do something significant. Or did my aspirations for greatness come, perhaps, from my own narcissistic ego? Did my inner insecurities create the need to validate my existence by proving that I’m superior to others? Or did my desire for greatness come from God himself? After all, he created me in his image. And he saved me so that I wouldn’t waste my life.

It’s the Holy Spirit within me that causes both the motivation and the power to go forth and

change the world. Right?

When I pastored a church in Albany, New York, I remember clearly a moment in prayer when I cried out to God: “Lord, make our church the greatest church in this city!” At that very moment it seemed that the Holy Spirit himself stepped into the room and spoke: “I heard your prayer. But I’m not going to answer it until we examine the motives in your heart. Is your prayer focused on the glory of God or simply the inflation of your own ego?”

Good question! I never prayed quite the same way again.

Today, after five decades of ministry, I look in the rearview mirror of life and wonder what it all means. Did my life count? Did I make a difference? Although I’m grateful for the many evidences of God’s faithfulness both to me and through me, I confess that even my most

glamourous achievements appear to be, in retrospect, rather commonplace, average, and

unexceptional. But what surprises me the most is that I’m OK with that now.

I love the story of James and John and how they wanted to be great in God’s kingdom (see Mk. 10:35-45). These rascals are classic examples of mediocrity; ordinary in their talents, average in their intelligence, and unexceptional in their moral character. But because of their association with Jesus, they aspire to be great in his kingdom. They want their lives to make a difference. They want to change the world. They are horrified at the thought of being mediocre! So they come to Jesus with a request: “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” (v. 37). Johnny wants to be the Vice President and Jimmy wants to be the Secretary of State.

I’m struck by the fact that Jesus does not rebuke their ambition. However, he does expose their ignorance. “You do not know what you are asking,” he says (Mk. 10:38). They do not understand what “greatness” looks like in the kingdom of God. So Jesus tells them that if they want to be great in his kingdom, they must drink the cup of suffering and be baptized into the reality of pouring out their lives for others (v. 38). To live a life that matters, they must forsake all worldly definitions of success and embrace the downward mobility of King Jesus. In his kingdom, greatness is measured not by how many servants you have, but by how many people you serve. (see Mk. 10:42-45).

I still don’t want the word “mediocre” on my tombstone, but I do want to follow the example of King Jesus who lived a life of status-renouncing, self-denying, other-oriented love. I want to find my life by losing it, to become famous by being invisible, and to be great by serving the needs of other people. I’m slowly learning the extraordinary power of an ordinary life.

This week I’ve decided to make Psalm 131 my prayer. I think the explanation for King David’s

greatness is the simple fact that this was his prayer. Wanna join me in praying it?

1 O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;

    my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things

    too great and too marvelous for me.

2  But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

    like a weaned child with its mother;

    like a weaned child is my soul within me.

3  O Israel, hope in the Lord

    from this time forth and forevermore. (Psalm 131).

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