As I begin to type this, I’m seated in seat number...wait, that’s not quite descriptive enough. I’m actually wedged into seat number 17B, the middle seat on a 4 hour domestic flight from Fort Lauderdale to Dallas. My flight companions in 17A and C are seemingly nice guys, an average sized Asian man to my right and a generously proportioned white guy to my left. We’re doing the armrest elbow dance.
Intuitively.
An hour into the flight, I think we have our rhythm down.
I’m not really a middle seat guy.
I’m always an aisle seat guy.
At 6’ 3” it’s a bit beyond preference.
Heck, my profile with my travel agent clearly lists that “preference”.
But this flight is slap full so snug 17B it is.
But here’s the twist: I know I’m blessed to have it. Today is a situation where my mid-level “frequent flyer status” let me jump on an earlier flight than I was ticketed to be on. My later flight included my coveted, preferred aisle seat, but I was able to jump on the earlier bird. 17B is a good ego check for me, a blessing that requires pride and comfort to be crammed away beyond the overhead bin.
Lately, I’ve been mulling on this idea of “I deserve” and “Ego” and “Of course, I know what I’m doing” and just the very worst ways that attitude can rear up and out. It's front of mind here in 17B because my ego tends to creep up at the airport when I have wait for group 4. Then, the rare instances when I’m bumped to first class, it has the chance to turn into a pride wrestling opportunity for growth. Hey Joal, reminder: it’s all the same plane.
Stop with the high brow thinking.
Just Stop.
When I’m bumped up I simply lucked out that the first class seats weren’t sold out.
And today I lucked out that a handful of seats were still open.
I didn’t DO anything.
I don’t DESERVE anything.
It was a happy blessing.
Whether it’s a teenager thinking they know it all or a newly elected Member of Congress thinking they’re God’s gift to America or the Pastor that thinks he can save people or counselors who believe they can fix marriages or a-hem...a particular sales rep who thinks he’s the greatest salesman his company has ever seen, all of them share the same bitter root. The "Me, Myself and I" gene is embedded in all of us from conception and is in full burn from breath number one.
Scripture is full of warnings and observations about pride.
Here’s a thought: what if “life to the full”, a full personhood, restored, redeemed and reclaimed, was mostly defined as LESS of me? Actually, going further, how about none of the ME gene. I’m thinking more and more that’s precisely the case.
Josh Wilson, a favorite singer/songwriter around our family (and one of those guitarists that just makes you shake your head with what his fingers produce live) has a new tune called “Self Less”. The space between the words is intentional. The lyrical turn is: “It ain’t about thinking less of myself just thinking of my Self Less.”
A week or so later, it’s now a return trip from Corpus Christi and I’m “last standby list guy” blessed with the back row window seat 20F on another completely occupied flight. Again, a gift.
The flip side of the Self coin has to be humble-gratitude. I should count some blessings:
I’m blessed I was able to work today and this week.
I’m blessed to do work that not only provides for my family but is something I actually enjoy a lot and it matters to the world!
I have a beautiful wife I’m so in love with that I’m racing home today to see her and she’s geeked about it.
I have children who are growing up strong, healthy and independent in good, noticeable ways.
And those are just a few of the significant ones. I won’t list the countless ways art, music, conversation, coffee and avocados rate as minor blessings in life; they all do.
My prayer needs to be for more 17B and 20F Self Less moments and the grateful heart to pair with it. “I, me and my” needn’t rear up. Amen, Lord Jesus.
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