Just Deserts

One of my spiritual disciplines is daily time with the Bible (Well, the truth of late has probably been closer to a bit less than daily, but who’s confessing?). This week I am reading in the Old Testament book of Daniel, known for its lions’ den, fiery furnace, and apocalyptic visions. Tuesday’s reading, however, was nothing so fantastic or imaginative as those.

A section of the fourth chapter of Daniel reports the confession of a king of Babylonia named Nebuchadnezzar. In a poignant soliloquy, the king describes a walk atop the roof of his palace during which he surveys the land over which he rules. The sights before him prompt this arrogant pronouncement:

“Just look at this great city of Babylon! I, by my own mighty power, have built this beautiful city as my royal residence and as an expression of my royal splendor.'”

God drives some sense into King EgoRunAmok via a trip to and life amidst the wilderness. Upon humility’s successful advance, Nebuchadnezzar voices his new learning:

"After this time had passed, I, Nebuchadnezzar, looked up to heaven. My sanity returned, and I praised and worshiped the Most High and honored the one who lives forever.”

Do you hear that? The king says he was insane! His only sin was egotism: He thought too much of himself, of his accomplishments and his role in them. Many – especially politicians – would say, “I got a little full of myself. I got a bit carried away. I’ll do better the next metropolis I build.” But this repentant king says, “I went insane.”


I hope I remember Nebuchadnezzar’s example the next time I get a little full of myself, the next time I get a bit carried away with my role in whatever good comes of my life. The next time I seek out appreciation, soak in applause, or sop up someone’s kind assessment, I hope I promptly see myself strolling atop that moment’s fragile rooftop. And before the roof collapses, before I am removed from my lofty position and redeployed to the everyday debris that more accurately depicts my life during its ego-centric sojourns, I hope I fall to my knees, raise my heads and hands to heaven, and beg for sanity’s return.

May my remaining days stay within a whisper’s distance of the truth that there isn't anything about my life that is good because of me. There is MUCH that is good – don’t get me wrong – it’s just that I have nothing to do with it.

I realized long ago the fruitlessness of self-importance. Not until now, however, did I have its fitting synonym: insanity.


. . . . I was going to ask about your sanity, but I figure it’s your palace. . . and God knows where to find you.


Pray with me:
There are times when I am an insane person, God. Just insane. Not by medical diagnosis, but by personal choice. I hope this isn't one of those times, but if it is, consider these words a confession. If this isn't one of those times, consider this a preview of coming attractions. When you have to take me down from the artificial heights, use whatever force you deem necessary. Just make sure it works; I’m not too crazy about the wilderness, either. In the name of Jesus, who knew a thing or two about life’s deserts, Amen.