The pin in the balloon

Remember, when you were a kid, how amazing balloons were? Balloons signified birthday parties, New Year’s parties, carnivals…they symbolized many things, but one thing was always in common…fun! Balloons meant fun!

(well, I knew a girl once who had a phobia of clowns…so they probably didn’t mean fun for her…but we won’t go there)

Did you ever pop a balloon on purpose? I did. It used to be hysterical to sit on it and pop it, just to scare someone else in the room. Ah, the things that used to amuse us! The balloons that symbolized so much fun to us, we destroyed, and somehow thought it was cool.

My emotional balloon gets really full of hot air sometimes. I get way too proud for my own good. About a year ago, God really started working on me about pride. I remember asking Him to show me the areas of my heart that contained pride, but really being horrified at what He showed me. I struggle with pride. I suppose it stands to reason. Artists love appreciation. I love it when people read something I’ve written, watch one of my plays, hear me speak at an event, and tell me how great a job I did and how much it “moved” them. Because I was educated in a secular performing arts environment, where the ultimate reward, the only thing worth seeking after, was the applause of the audience. I had no clue until about a year ago how proud I tend to be.

So I had to start taking that balloon, and popping it. Sit on it, blow it up, get rid of it. Because pride is never held in high esteem by God. It’s what got Satan kicked out of Heaven. It’s what caused the Fall…Adam and Eve wanted to be like God. We don’t want to get rid of it though, because it makes us feel good. Something happened tonight that, as much as I would never admit it, trashed my pride. Slammed it to the mat. But by trashing my pride, God did exactly what He needed to do.

He woke up the right people…He just chose to pop a balloon to do it.

My balloon.

Good for Him.