“. . . I don’t even judge myself.” (The Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 4:3)
You probably didn’t know this, but I am an editor. However, I’ve decided to resign from the job. Let me explain.
I don’t edit books. I edit other people, myself, life itself. I became aware of this just this morning. It is raining, and I wanted to edit the rain right out of my life.
But wanting to edit the weather is a failproof prescription for being miserable. I caught myself in this fruitless quest while I was doing my daily gratitude list. I decided to write down in my journal that I was thankful for the rain.
Of course, I was not thankful for the rain. However, as soon as I wrote down that I was thankful for the rain, I was thankful for the rain. I listened to it pattering down on my Cape Cod ceiling window. It was beautiful.
Then, today at church, the preacher spoke concerning the life of the Old Testament character Joseph, who had a lot of really bad chapters in his life. But, as the pastor pointed out, every chapter comes to an end—even the bad ones. And then, a new chapter begins. He said that what he was doing wasn’t a sermon. It was a prophecy that God had given to him for someone. Well, I know that I was one of the targets of this prophecy.
I thought to myself, “Well I can’t live out this new chapter (whatever and wherever it is) if I’m too busy editing.”
However, I am finding it more difficult to quit editing than I had thought it would be. Simply saying, “I quit!” doesn’t quite eliminate the habits of a lifetime. I found myself continuing my function as editor, even since this wonderful rainy insight and the excellent word from God. Several times, I’ve caught myself trying to edit my wife. (How many times have I done that without noticing, I wonder. I get irritated when she tries to edit me. Why am I surprised when she gets irritated when I do that to her?) I’ve tried to edit other drivers on the road. I’ve tried to edit my little dog.
Well, the first step toward resigning from my tendency to edit is awareness.
Of course, I tend to edit myself as well. Yet an author who has himself for an editor has a fool for both a client and an editor. It’s hard to spot your own mistakes, and futile to try to spot others’ mistakes—unless you are their accountability partner. Even then, you should tread lightly. (See! There I go again trying to edit you!)
One of the songs that our praise team sang together, spoke of “meeting the author of my life.” I assume they were talking about God. If God is the author of our lives, it is overwhelmingly likely that God doesn’t need an editor. What God “needs” is for me to resign as editor, and cooperate in the story that is me. God also “needs” me to be willing to show up for cameo appearances in the lives of others, not to be their editor.
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