Nobody Belongs on a Pedestal

Several years ago, I was in my daughter’s room one night before bedtime. I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about, but I was trying to convince her not to elevate celebrities or think that their lives are better than hers.

“Just like everyone else,” I told her, “they put their pants on one leg at a time.”

My girl interrupted me then, to let me know that she actually puts her pants on both legs at a time.

Of course you do, I thought immediately. (Further investigation revealed that Daughter No. 2 also does not put her pants on one leg at a time. What are the odds?)

My children sometimes mess up my delivery of life lessons. But the point I was trying to make is still valid.

Certain positions or offices are worthy of respect—judge, pastor, policeman, soldier, teacher, president. But when it comes to specific individuals, I don’t care how many followers people have, how much money they make, how famous they are, how wide their influence or how powerful their position.

Nobody is better than anyone else.

Nobody belongs on a pedestal.

And yet, especially in this age of air-brushed images and carefully curated online personas, it’s so easy to compare our ordinary lives with those we see on social media or in the news and deem others more important, more relevant or more worthy of being used by God.

I’ve been guilty of something like this in my own life, long before social media was ever a thing. When I was in my early 20s and working as a newspaper reporter in Northwest Arkansas, one of my primary beats was covering Wal-Mart Stores Inc. The company was notoriously tightlipped when it came to the press, and I often felt intimidated and almost in awe when I was able to get an interview with one of its top executives.

Now I look back and think, Why was I so intimidated by those people? They were just people. They put their pants on one leg at a time, just like me.

The fact that most of them were probably younger than I am now helps. Age has a way of giving us more confidence, maybe leveling the playing field a bit.

And yet, the older we get, the more irrelevant we might feel. When my mom was in her early 80s, I remember her bemoaning the fact that she wasn’t asked to do much at church anymore.

After a lifetime of service, she felt like she wasn’t needed. (Turns out, she was needed and loved far more than she realized, or could even understand, but she just couldn’t see it.)

There’s nothing wrong with admiring musicians, comedians, professional athletes, speakers, bloggers, pastors and other Christian influencers. We can learn from them, enjoy listening to them and benefit from their gifts.

But we have to be careful not to think of them so highly that it would damage our own faith if they were to somehow topple off that pedestal. We have to remember that, as the old hymn says, our hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.

Not on how some famous preacher acts or what some popular blogger thinks about hot-button theological issues.

I want to teach my girls—even as I remind myself—that the people most worth admiring and emulating are not celebrities on Instagram or YouTube, Christian or otherwise. They’re people they already know—teachers, youth-group leaders, neighbors, coaches, their friends’ moms and their mom’s friends.

In some sense, these are average, ordinary, regular individuals who have no big aspirations or even any real chance of becoming a household name to anybody.

But they’re also rich in life experience, wisdom and empathy. They love and lead well, in their own spheres of impact.

And spending actual time with them is far more beneficial and nurturing than following from afar even the most genuine Christian celebrity or influencer.

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, Let’s Have Coffee, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.