Would I Know You?

Would I Know You?

Would I know You now
if You walked into the room,
If You stilled the crowd,
if Your light dispelled the gloom?
And if I saw Your wounds,
touched Your thorn-pierced brow,
I wonder if I’d know You now?

Would I know You now
if you walked into this place?
Would I cause You shame,
would my games be Your disgrace?
Or would I worship You,
fall upon my face?
I wonder if I’d know You now?

Or have the images I painted so distorted who You are,
That even if the world was looking, they could not see You, the real You?
Have I changed the true reflection, to fulfill my own design,
Making You want I want, not showing You forth divine, divine?

Would I miss You now,
if You left and closed the door?
Would my flesh cry out,
“I don’t need you anymore!”
Or would I follow You,
could I be restored?
I wonder, I wonder will I ever learn?
I wonder if I’d know You now?

– Wayne Watson, “Would I Know You”


Prior to answering the call to ministry, this song meant one thing to me. It was, to me, an indictment on our sinful, self-absorbed natures; that we might, like the Jews of the time when Jesus walked the earth, simply not recognize Him if He suddenly reappeared. Having devoted myself to the learning and careful, frank soul-searching that is required of anyone surrendering to the call to ministry, I find myself recognizing yet another meaning here.

As I write these Bible studies and expository articles, I am required by my integrity to ask myself, “Why am I doing this? Is it for my glory, or for God’s?” If the answer is ever anything other than a total surrender to the will of God, I have to stop. I have to close BlogDesk, back away and do something else; play with the kids, talk to my wife, even fire up a video game. I cannot allow myself to fall prey to pride, or I am suddenly in very real danger of losing the authenticity of my faith in a fog of self-centered attention-hounding.

When that authenticity fades, what of Christ is left? Sure, I’d have preached His word and probably planted the seed that changed a few hearts. After all, He can use even the worst of us to do great things, often without us knowing it. But when it came time to look my Master in the face and hear His final verdict on my life, what would He say about such self-serving motives as earthly glory, even something so simple and innocuous-seeming as a popular, widely-read blog? Would pride have so distorted my inner view of Christ that I would simply not know Him, and He me? I can imagine no more tragic end than to kneel before my Lord and hear the words, “I have not known thee.”

So, when an article of mine jumps to the top ten recommended diaries on RedState.com, or I receive praise from my pastor or friends on something or other that I’ve written or said, it is simultaneously satisfying and very humbling. I have to remind myself that my gifts are not my own, and that everything I write, everything I do, flows forth from the Holy Spirit. The smug, satisifed smile that creeps across my face, the excited gush to my wife, “Hey look, one of my articles is on the most recommended list,” is fine for a momentary satisfaction but must not distract me from the truth that my success and all its attendant glory must be reflected back to God. Pride is the most insidious tool the Enemy has against us, and his most stealthy. With it, he can pervert even the best, most well-meaning ministries to his ends.

Would I know Christ if He posted a response, a comment on one of my articles correcting me about some detail? I hope and pray I would.

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