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Dan over at Prayeramedic wrote a post today about Martin Luther’s last written words, “We are all beggars, it is true.”

Martin’s point in this quote was to end his life saying that he didn’t deserve any of the blessings that he got here, or the blessings he was assured of receiving because of Christ’s sacrifice.

Dan ended the post with an interesting question.  He asks, “most importantly how do we change our devotional life to reflect a life of reception, seeking God’s gifts as beggars rather than His applause as performers?”

This reminded me of a story I’ve seen in a Brennan Manning book about a monk who was unable to do any of the high-falutin’ things his brother monks were doing in order to offer worship and praise to God.  But the monk was a former circus performer and clown, and every night he would go down to the basement chapel and perform his circus acts - flips and somersaults and all - to the praise of God.

When his brother monks caught him one night, they called in the monastery’s most authoratative figure, assuming that the circus monk would get in trouble.  Instead, the monk’s secret worship was praised.

Whether it is right, correct, respectable, religious, etc to beg for God’s attention can be argued.  HOW you go about begging for that attention is the subject of even more argument.

The fact remains, however, that we do beg for the attention of the Divine.  We, like little girls spinning in dresses and little boys roaring like young lions in front of their fathers, we yearn for God’s applause and attention.

We don’t deserve it - that’s clear.  Our spiritual somersaults are pitiful and most of the time everyone around us looks like they’re in some devotional Cirque De Soleil.  We at least know that Jesus has us beat, and that no dance of ours could match his.

It is when we believe that we, like Herodias’ daughter in Mark 6, can force God’s hand with our dazzling outfits and seductive (yet oh so proper) words.  That is when we begin to lose sight of our relationship with Him the way it should be.

He paid enough attention to us to die on a cross, to listen to my fears and anxieties in my prayers, to forgive my wandering and my piety alike.  I want to spin for Him.  I want to do somersaults and dance.  I spend my life begging for His attention both good and bad ways.  And I know He’s watching.  I know He’s loving.  Not because of what I do, but because of who I am - His son.

Image: Dad, look at the cloud by sofilou.ch[x] at Flickr