“Whoever wants to
follow Me must first deny themselves.” ~ Matthew 16:24
Andrew’s mornings began with coffee, emails, and a glance at
his reflection in the hallway mirror. Not to admire himself, but to make sure
he looked “put-together.” Over time, the mirror offered more than reflection.
It became quiet witness to everything he refused to see in himself.
The mirror caught him declining to help a friend because he “needed
some self-care that day.” It observed him skipping church because he was
exhausted, though never too tired for his own pursuits. It watched idly as his
prayers, once rich with gratitude, thinned into requests for success, applause,
and recognition.
He didn’t recognize it as pride. Andrew told himself it was
simply being responsible, managing routines, and doing what normal people do.
The turning point didn’t come with a crisis… but with a
small child.
“Uncle Andy,” she said, tilting her head, “why do
you look sad today in the mirror?”
Andrew froze.
He hadn’t realized she could see the reflection he’d spent decades hiding. “I’m
not sad,” he said quickly, his words thin against the weight of truth.
“But your face looks tired… like it’s not happy right
now,” she said without wavering. Her words landed like a bell in an empty
cathedral - sudden, pure, and impossible to ignore.
She saw what he’d refused to see in himself: a man hollowed
by worship of his own image.
After they left, silence swallowed the apartment. Alone, he returned to
the mirror and saw it differently this time. Not just the dark circles beneath
his eyes, but he faint lines of a soul starved for meaning. The ache of a man
who’d wandered so far from his real self that even he no longer recognized
himself.
For the first time, his image
reflected the cost of worshipping himself. He’d prayed for applause, not
surrender; for adoration, not transformation. Standing there, he felt the cold
shadow of what that devotion had cost him: joy, peace, true identity.
The mirror, of course, said nothing,
but its truth settled heavily. Andrew had built an altar to himself and asked
God to bless it. He turned away from the image he’d tried so hard to perfect, and
faithfully returned to the God who’d loved him all along.
Later, Andrew lay down to sleep,
unpolished and unfinished. Not because he’d suddenly become enough, but because
he remembered the One who is. And when the idol in the mirror crumbled, worship
found its rightful target again.
“Lord, forgive me for the times I’ve turned
my heart away from You. Help me to lay down my pride, my need for approval, and
my busyness. Teach me to seek You first, to rest in Your love, and to live for
You each day. Amen
