I am not the hero

My pride wants to be the hero of the story. My pride wants to be the savior. My ego desires to be Moses.
If I am the centerpiece of the story then this will be a very poor story indeed. I cannot even save myself, so how am I expected to be the hero of this story? My pride wants to be the one crying out “let my people go”. I am not the hero of this story.
I am Israel, helpless in slavery. I am Pharaoh, hardening my heart. I am not the interceding prince. I am not the one who brings freedom. I am not the source of my hope.
I know that if my actions are the source of my hope, then I am condemned to failure, and damned to Hell. If my hope rests on the actions of the One who is without flaw; If my hope is in the one who suffered on my behalf: I am free.
Freed from sin, and servant to Christ. There is so much hope in the idea that I am not enough. If I am not enough, I can know that Christ is sufficient. There is no amount that I can give that will ever equal what He has given, and He knows this, and He still loves. Why does my heart wander? Why? It knows all this. It knows His love, so why would it ever choose anything different? But, oh the hope that I have in this: that in my wandering, He is faithful and just to continue to working.
I don’t need to be the hero. I have a savior who is without failure.


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