Ever read a post and save it somewhere for a future blog, and then get frustrated when you can't find it back later? Nope, no one. I guess that makes me special.
No it doesn't. Not even close.
The article I wanted to find back talked about the number of high school kids that thought they were special. If I remember right, when they were polled in the 1950's, only 5% of high school students thought they were special, as compared to over 50% today. We seem to be doing a great job of teaching self-esteem.
I like to think I'm special. That I'm more compassionate, smarter than the average bear, able to leap gopher mounds in a single bound. But I always try to remember this. No matter where I am, I never assume I'm the smartest person in the room. I've meet people who assume they always are.
But what does being special mean?
I've met incredible people. I mean folks so intelligent that I don't know what they are talking about when they start discussing their field of study. Folks who have lived their convictions so thoroughly that they are eating one meal a day, and that meal is a corn meal gruel.With nomadic shepherds. Folks who can recall the Bible passage they read three months ago. Give them three words to start a passage and they will tell you where it's found.
People who get the art that is calling feed bunks, or can tell you what calf is getting sick when all you see is a calf. People that understand economics and explain them in a way that I can understand it. People doing things with cells that truly make me stand in awe of God's creation.
But if I think that my meager talents make me special, then everyone needs to listen to me. My voice is all important because I have an opinion. If I then shout louder than the rest of you, does that make my voice/opinion more important?
The reality is that we all have talents. We all have things that make us stand out.
And in that we aren't that special. Nor should we be.