Spoiled

Nor, I think, would many of us ever naturally say that in the light of the knowledge of God which we have come to enjoy, past disappointments and present heartbreaks, as the world counts heartbreaks, don't matter. For the plain fact of the matter is that to. Ost of us they do matter. We live with them as our "crosses" (so we call them). Constantly we find ourselves slipping into bitterness and apathy and gloom as we reflect on them, which we frequently do. The attitude we show to the world is a sort of dried-up stoicism, miles removed from the "joy unspeakable and full of glory" which Peter took for granted that his readers were displaying (1 Peter 1:8 KJV). "Poor souls," our friends say of us," how they've suffered." And that is just what we feel about ourselves!

--J. I. Packer, Knowing God

I've been convicted of this in the past few months. How easily my spoiled windy little mind seeks for sympathy when there is really no need for it, except that my selfish little self wants to feel loved (and by loved I really mean known). It's not wrong to want to feel loved; we were made to be loved. But this feeling of, "Oh let me show you a heavy cross," that is sin. For one, I've never starved, I've never been unwanted, I've never been enslaved, I've never found myself bereft of my "inalienable rights" (the question of their inalienableness is a question matter for another time). In relation to the world, I have no room to complain. But even beyond that the sufferings of this present time are not even worth comparing to the future glory that is to come. And yet, my ego still has an itch to grow beyond its recommended size. My dad used to warn me about becoming a PLOM when I was younger, a poor little ol' me. And boy was (is) he right. Really, what do I have to complain about? In reality, absolutely nothing.