I love when I don’t mind being laughed at, which isn’t often enough, because it means I am in the presence of people I know truly love me. I also love it because it means I’m not taking myself too seriously.

I’ve been honest about the fact that I take my life seriously, and that I have a relatively high opinion of myself. But I must be equally honest about the obvious: I am not a god. I am a man. I am weak. I am small. I am laugh-at-able. In the long arc of history, I am insignificant. If the odds hold, very few people will remember me one hundred years from now, and after another hundred no living person will know of my existence. I might be wrong, but probably not.

I suppose this can be a bit depressing, but for me it is also freeing. The pressure’s off. While our lives matter and everything we do or fail to do makes a difference, the success of history as a whole does not depend solely on you or me. We’re just not that important. This is good news, because it means we can fall asleep at night knowing our inactivity does not stall the world’s productivity. And we can laugh at ourselves.

The next time you act goofy or someone pokes fun or talks behind your back, laugh at yourself. Laugh and celebrate the fact that God never said not to take your name in vain.

. . .

NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #29 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

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