Creative Commons License photo credit: John Corigliano - Window to the Magic
I can’t help it. I enjoy watching the first few weeks of American Idol. I get a kick out of watching
the wannabes get shot down. My wife— being the saintly woman she is— thinks my joy in this arena is evidence of a sick mind and a depraved heart. She’s probably right. But my feeling has always been that these fine fools deserve to be humiliated since they come before the judges thinking they are God’s gift to music, only to be deflated by what the rest of us call reality.
But tonight, I vowed to look at this comedy of errors in a different light. As I watched reject after reject face the music, bringing with them all of the accolades from tone-deaf parents, cheers of dishonest friends and countless hours of practice that simply never will make perfect, I saw myself.
I come before God, bringing accolades of friends, the applause of people, my feelings of self-righteousness, and a laundry list of good deeds that I think will earn me gifts from God. I come before God thinking I’m good enough and that I am worthy to stand before Him and offer my songs or prayers. I boast about accomplishments I claim as my own…
And God looks back and reminds me of the reality in which I actually live. All of the things in my entire life that I would call good— every accomplishment and every victory— amount to filthy rags. Nothing I have done and nothing I ever will do could ever be good enough to earn a golden ticket. Realizing this, I’m left with only one thought:
I’m just glad my judge isn’t Simon.