A myth is just a myth neither fact nor history though it may well allude to both. Made-up stories of imaginary gods to help explain the trials and ambiguities of life. Sometimes Christians and the Bible are referred to in this way. Sometimes professing believers are indeed mythologists in various areas- and there is always the possibility those who dis-believe create myths of their own much like those they criticize.

By now I’ve likely mentioned in my writings one of the supreme myth-busting moments of my life happened as I sang lead in a band one night as a teenager.

I was far underage so should have not been in the place at all much less drinking right through the night but none of that was uncommon for me.

It was likely either a Friday or Saturday but in any case, the club was packed out, the band was cooking along, somewhere in mid-song I opened my eyes just a bit (sweat and salt kept ’em shut mostly) and right in front of me below the stage stood the vice-principal and physical education teacher from my public school.

At the time I was perhaps 16 or maybe 17, but in any case, both of them and I recognized one another and at the same instant mouthed “What are YOU doing here?!!”

I shrugged laughing. Everyone at my high school knew I was in a band, had always been in bands so no big revelation. Much of the time my bandmates were four or more years older than I and so doing shows in places like that were common and they likely figured that out quick.

What was really strange (for a moment) in my view was they each had a drop-dead beautiful blond lady on their arm -and I may be mistaken but I think one of those guys was married- and not to the babe. But it was date-night and for me quite strange to see them in that situation.

What happened inside my head was a major (duhhhh smh) revelation: nobody is a god. Not my parents, grandparents, teachers, no politician, pastor, cop, fireman, general, admiral, nobody in authority, no “big shot” anywhere was somehow and automatically a sort of deity. They were all (indeed, like many Greek mythological gods) quite human-like in terms of… well… sin. They, like me, could do incredibly stupid or remarkably brilliant, destructive death-bringing things, make choices with horrible and far-reaching or truly life-giving decisions. All of them. And all of us. And nobody is God but God.

This for me became and continues to be a deep and informing reality as I consider writing, speaking, lyricism, worship, attitudes and actions in my own life, those of my family, church, local and national government, on and on.

Either we pretend to be deity or we humbly bow before and serve God and others as the flawed, imperfect yet God-focused humans we are. But to ascribe some sort of sinless perfection to -or offering absurd levels of respect to people purely due to their station/position in life seems to me, a practical but foolish mythology but worse, it can and likely at times does border on idolatry.

Your idols, like mine, have feet of clay. No matter how amazing, loving, gifted, inspiring, they all -and you and I dear reader, “have feet of clay.” All have sin nature. All make mistakes. All will let you down and sometimes if your focus is too much on them and too little on the true Redeemer, you will likely begin to dislike if not eventually despise them for being… just like you and me.

In my case, this and a few other seminal experiences helped me understand that nobody but Jesus could be considered literally perfect, utterly trustworthy and completely faithful in all their ways. It brought me to a sense of compassion, forgiveness and common sense regarding human relations that are rather important for both respecting people but also not setting them on a pedestal from which I could “righteously” blame them and knock them down later.

At the time I suppose I even envied and was jealous of the blonds but harsh judgments, even prior to coming to follow Jesus began to get washed from my thinking about them.

They, like myself, were human, sinners in need of the only Savior.

I am deeply grateful grace began it’s work in me even through those days.Thanks to Jesus, it continues, but I’m grateful God began that work, even in that time and place.

As always, thanks for stopping by! -Glenn

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