Insignificance

Fear hits us from all angles. We desire to make a difference and fear living a life that doesn’t count. We need control and fear surrendering to God. We fear insignificance and uncertainty. The fear of failure drives us to make rash decisions or causes us to fear deciding at all. And then there is the final enemy—we fear dying. We battle fear, but things change when we realize the battle is too big for us. We are surrounded, outnumbered, outgunned. The battle against fear will be won, at the end of the day, by coming to grips with this truth: The battle belongs to the Lord. That’s what King David learned early in his life.

Many believers are stuck in the past. Past disappointments. Past failures. A past demeaning comment. They have defined themselves by the past. What happened years ago is still influencing who they are today. But the cycle can be and must be broken. Our significance is not, nor has it ever been, in who we were or who we are. It is God alone who gives us significance.

The fear of insignificance must be confronted. Positive self-talk won’t do it. A TED talk on individual value will fall short. Only the truth of God’s Word, impressed by God’s Spirit, can move us to find significance. Through the understanding of God’s Word, we switch the focus from who we are to Whose we are.

“Am I good enough?” “Am I worthy?” “Does my life count?” “Will I be remembered?” All these questions, and many more like them, come from a heart desiring significance. It’s this drive for significance, or the fear of insignificance, that places us on a perilous path. Let’s consider the story of Absalom, who, I believe, struggled with the fear of insignificance.

Saving Private Ryan is an epic World War II war film that follows the search for James Ryan, the last surviving brother of four servicemen. The search is led by an army ranger captain named John Miller. Ryan is located, but on the return journey, Miller is gravely injured. As he dies, he whispers to Ryan, “Don’t waste this.” Ryan carried those words throughout his life. Years later, he broke down when he and his family visited Miller’s grave in Normandy. Through tears, he asked his wife, “Am I a good man?” He wanted his life to be significant, not wasted, for the man who had saved him.