I Fancy Myself Wonder Woman

So I just watched an episode of Gilmore Girls. I'm not going to lie, that show is my happy place. Usually I watch it to forget the actual problems of the world and to pretend I live in Stars Hollow where it is appropriate to eat pop-tarts, drink six cups of coffee a day and still be adorable, and interact with people who are either ruggedly attractive or just plain weird. 

Specifically, it was Episode 1 of Season 3. The one where Lorleai goes to Luke's and cries because the fates have thwarted all of her plans, yet again. She's defeated and left where she always seems to be: single and chillin' and afraid. 

Now, I'm not here to write about being single, chillin', and afraid (although that'd be a doozy), but about what Lorelai says in full honesty and complete vulnerability when she realizes that she's not perfect. 

"I hate admitting it, because I fancy myself wonder woman." 

And ain't that the dang truth? 

Lorelai and I both. We fancy ourselves to be wonder woman. We think we can do it all--all the things. 

We are lions

Recently, I've been inspired by lions. A couple of my friends, co-workers, and inspirations call ourselves lions. It's partially a way to boost our own self-confidence and give ourselves the drive we need to step up, cut the crap, and be awesome. 

So for a while, I inspired myself to inspire myself. I fancied myself Wonder Woman, absorbing and satisfying myself with my successes, and letting myself be crushed by anything short of perfection. I rode the wave of success, carried by the energy of "Good job," or "you're awesome," or "great blog." But the second those things died away, fear and insecurity set in. The signs all pointed to the same thing: Wonder Woman had her security fixed on some shifty ground. 

Every lie that could exist did exist and deflated my self-confidence. Every scenario of failure played out in my head--no job, no friends, no dream--and they haunted me. My resolve to be a lion was leaving. My ability to pull myself up by my own bootstraps seemed childish. My dream laughed in my face and told me I was foolish. I wanted to be a lion, but something seemed to be missing. 

but first, a lamb

So I went to the eremos. I got alone, got quiet, and told Abba what was up. I drove for an hour and a half in complete silence, until I finally struggled up the courage to rasp, "not my will but yours be done." 

Because what if what He wants isn't what I want? 

Perhaps. 

Perhaps the details, the timing, the location will look different than I want it to. But He and I agree on one thing: that I was created to be a lion. I was created with courage and passion and instinct. 

But it's not my job to elevate myself to lion status. God's already done that, and is still doing it. Like Jesus, I am to fancy myself a lamb. Humbly accepting his will and not my own. Trusting the shepherd to lead me. Letting Him carry me when I wander from his pasture. Because only when the Lord makes me a lion, does he receive all the glory. 

So though I fancy myself Wonder Woman most of the time, I'm learning to live like Jesus (not Lorelai) and fancy myself a lamb. I'm learning how to not rob Abba of his glory. I'm learning to let His will be done.

"A lion in God's cause must be a lamb in his own." -Matthew Henry