Broken altars.

In the beginning, when the world was made, God made man in His own image, according to His likeness. And because He loved man so much, He gave him the world. But because we could not see God nor touch Him, we ran away and gave our loyalty to other things, crafted our own gods, abandoning our first love.

Idol (noun) 1. an image of a deity other than God. 2. any person or thing regarded with blind admiration, adoration, or devotion. 3. a mere image or semblance of something, visible but without substance, as a phantom. 4. a figment of the mind; fantasy. 5. a false conception or notion; fallacy.

Idols. They come in the subtlest of forms, and distract us from experiencing God’s fullest love. They are insidious, taking the form of work, innocuous hobbies, a soulmate. In the empty spaces of time through our day, where do our thoughts travel to? Finishing unfinished work, the thrill of leisure pursuits, the hungry desire to be around someone? Food, exercise, image? Or work, adventure, thrills? None of these things are bad by themselves, but ever so sneakily corrupt our minds, win our affections and build altars for themselves in our lives.

Idols. Do you have them too? Things which started out as innocent interests but grew into serious obsessions, things we tie our identities to, which we know would crush us if we were forced to let them go. Achievements, sports, a certain Person X we look to for appraisal. Things which could arguably be good-after all, doesn’t sports make you healthier; achievements, more confident? But the true litmus test comes in whether we can let them go or not, and whether we prize them more than God.

Idols. They are distractions of deceit. False things which deceive us into believing a myth, that happiness can be found in Self. Yet, how many of us would admit to having them- one becomes so used to worshipping them and calling them good gods.

It’s been a tough week. Crushing, to cope with having my eyes unveiled to the many little gods I had carved for myself on a false altar.

Things like work, certain people I had placed on pedestals, leisure pursuits taken a tad too seriously, recurring thoughts even… which had become Idols with ugly, scary faces, which drew out pride and covetousness, a gnawing discontentment which estranged my heart from God. We are snared by different things and hence build different idols- what is one for me may not be for you. But anything we deify becomes a false god. Even ourselves.

And we forget, that because of how much our true God loves us so, we obligate Him to kill whatever we falsely worship, whatever which displaces Him from the center of our lives. How one weeps in the knowledge of grieving the real God who loves us, who finds Himself cheaply replaced by our tawdry whims. How I wept as it battered my heart. How it pierced me.

For I had been all set to sign up for the duathlon. After all, I had trained and it was a healthy pursuit after all. Yet day after day an inner voice gnawed at me till I could bear it no longer. When I saw the race carved out in the shape of an impish figurine placed upon the altar like yet another idol in my life, how I cried and wept in the knowledge of it, in knowing that it was based upon pride and covetousness. That unless I gave it up completely, I would forever be a slave to it.

I had to give it up completely. Give up signing up for and participating in races. Forever, until God says so. What else was it for besides my own pride? It was hard to let go. You must understand- I am an adrenalin junkie with a spirit of excellence (humour intended). Crying hard helped.

For God gave us seats of kingship and loves us too much to see us slaves to our own false gods.

Perhaps, the best way to get rid of idols is to crush them like eggshells.

Is there anything that thrills me more than God does? Coldplay? Running? Riding? So when I thought about my roadbike and about how much I look forward to the adrenalin rush of riding in a pack on a chilly morning at 5am, I shuddered to think that I was in a danger zone. It’s incredibly tempting to want a better, lighter bike to go faster, swifter- but cycling is a gift and hobby and should remain so, not taking any more precedence in my life; I shuddered to think about certain persons whose opinion of me I allowed to be louder than God’s; I shuddered to think I might get into a riding accident or argument with the person before returing God to His rightful place in my life.

Perhaps it is because of how much pain there is in the refinement process that nobody wants to be in that place. Like the way a vessel may hurt when it finds the master Potter carving through its walls, we avoid the discomfort by trying to take His place instead, carving out our own wooden idols in our self-image for self-admiration.

But not knowing that if we stay where we are, the master Potter’s plan shall result in the most beautiful, intricate design for a most delicate and useful vessel, and if we choose to rebel, then we force him to destroy what we tried to worship in the first place.

God loves us too much to see us self-destruct.

So even though it was painful, I can live in knowing that nothing could be more painful that hurting God’s heart.