Fictional Memoirs: The Infamous Me

If we do not strive to have God’s name glorified in all things, then we are pushing another agenda: The infamous Me.


I do not think I am OCD, but there is just a certain way things have to be. A certain way to talk, walk, and sleep. I think I am purely doing things according to my needs. I think I am being genuine in my complexity. 

I have a schedule you see. I follow it each day to the tee: Tea time at noon and cookies at three. Although I may appear gluttonous, I do not over eat. I consume as I need: Something to help me cope with my complexity. I am busy with deeds; from talking, to walking, to trying to go to sleep. 

Sometimes I fret, sometimes I worry, and sometimes I guess I forget God’s glory. He told me not to worry; it is an imperative not an indicative. But what does God know about this debt I have?

A debt here and a debt there. I spend time worrying to make things clear. I know life is tough and I know death is always near, but I really think that if I worry enough this time, my debt might disappear. 

My priorities ought to be satisfaction not success. I have confused the two and I think that is why I stress. Life is more than food. My work is more than success. My body is more than the freshest threads; this I can attest.

I try again and again and again and again, hoping for different results that never come in the end. Nothing has changed from all my worries. If anything I have smothered my comfort, contentment, and cheer. Repetition is the price of knowledge and the knowledge I have is that all my worries have accomplished is a life demolished. 

When you worry for years, you end up in tears. The lofty goal of being perfect is stemmed from corrupted information that we are failures unless we have billions. Billions in cash that does not last. We love telling others, “you will not have that jeep when you die in your sleep.” Well perhaps we do not tell them to their face, but we tell ourselves all sorts of things when worrying sets our pace. 

How do you cope when the bottle runs dry? How do you cope when even the sparkle has been lost from your lovers eye?

How do you cope when the bottle runs dry? How do you cope when even the sparkle has been lost from your lovers eye?  If all you have are your worries, then all you will obtain are the same old things you always regret. 

Worry is the threat to your rest. Worry is the test to set you apart from the rest. Worry is a heavy weight. The more you worry the more you add invisible stress to your plate. Why eat what you do not have too? Why consume and dwell on things out of your control? Nothing has been changed, altered, or improved upon because of the time you have wrecked your brain thinking about the possibility of a rain on your parade. 

A desire for perfection is not what makes you worry. A misplaced need to be accepted by others is not why you worry. An impressive schedule filled with tasks from hour-to-hour is not why you worry. The children in your classroom is not why you worry. The micro-maniging boss at your job is not why you worry. 

You worry because you do not know who you are.

You worry because you do not know who you are. You are either a child of God or a child desperately lost in the world’s parking lot looking for your car. Even if you found it, whatever it is, you would not be able to drive it, and that is why you hid. 

You hid from the reality that you do not know who you are. You hid in plain sight, because the car to nirvana is just out of reach: Always too far. You boast in your confusion. You pride yourself in your worry. But this funny thing keeps happening to you, a thought that says, “I love you.” 

Perhaps you feel nothing. Emotions are dangerous and so you have tied them up like a hostage in your basement. 

Perhaps you feel peace. Emotions are the boat that keeps us connected to a steady stream of dreams. 

But that phrase keeps coming back and it reminds you who has the last laugh.

“I love you.”

What love is this that sought me out while I hid? What conditions must I meet to know that I am not just a piece of meat? It does not make a whole lot of worldly sense: Why anyone would love you despite your lack of common sense. 

Jesus loves you. Jesus cares for you. Jesus is patient. Jesus is true. 

The worst thing that can happen to you is to be separated from God and that has already happened. 

Child of God, give your worries to Christ. You are carrying a weight that does not exist. You are subtracting from your identity in Christ. Before you knew your identity in Christ you were living for yourself and thus you were separated from God. The worst thing that can happen to you is to be separated from God and that has already happened. 

Jesus told us not to worry because he knew that when we worry we would misplace our identity in something or someone that is not him: The infamous Me. 

Matthew 6:25-34





4 thoughts on “Fictional Memoirs: The Infamous Me

  1. It amazes me how deep the thoughts of your generation, Jake. I feel like you guys are 20 years ahead of where my gen was at your age. Perhaps it is a sign of the times – God knows you need that jump start for the time is short. -Sandra

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