Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXIX

Nathan Tibbs was a hero in the Revolutionary War, and it came to light that he had a direct descendant living right there in Mayberry, so the Ladies Historical Society decided to figure out who it was so they could honor him. Well, Barney Fife just naturally assumed that he would be the honoree, so he began preparing his acceptance speech where he boasted about how he was accepting this prestigious recognition not only with great humility, but also with unprecedented "humbleness." You can imagine his shock and outrage when it was discovered that the real true descendant of Mr. Tibbs was Otis Campbell, the town drunk. The irony of this story is if a person brags about his humility, he has none.

We laugh at Barney's presumptions and his thirst for recognition, but if we're honest, haven't we all had daydreams about seeing our names up in lights as we listen to the thunderous cheers of thousands of our adoring fans? Not all of us can receive that type of honor, because if everyone received it, then it wouldn't mean much. So how does one go about becoming the recipient of such adoration and praise from our fellow human beings? Here's what I think. It's really a little bit tricky. First of all, receiving accolades from others cannot be our goal. In other words, you don't receive honor by seeking honor. In order to be awarded with the admiration of your peers, there's one short, simple statement that will not only become your motto, but also your way of life, "It's not about me." You must repeat that line over and over until it becomes the definition of who you are. "It's not about me." "It's not about me."

What if we could truly grasp what the statement, "It's not about me," actually means? How differently would we act if could we grab a hold onto the mentality of preferring our brother, even on the small, insignificant deeds of our daily lives? Would it affect the way we drive our cars? What about where we sit in church? Would we want to make sure we grab our aisle seat instead of just politely moving to the middle of the row so it will be easier for those who come in after us? In general, I believe our motivation would be, "What can I do that will benefit those around me, no matter how trivial?"

Here's the kicker: Do we sometimes try to exhibit an "It's not about me" facade with the ulterior motive of "How will this benefit me?" If I have a hidden agenda behind my "Do unto others" actions, then the "It's not about me" attitude is replaced with an attitude of "This is all about me." The only way for me to actually receive true honor is to never seek it.

Preston