High school was not my favorite season of life. I never really felt like I fit in. I wasn’t invited to many parties, partly because I was working and partly because I didn’t do many of the things that were happening at those parties. The few I did attend didn’t exactly leave me wishing I’d gone to more.
I had friends. I had church. I had my family. But school itself could be tough, and there were plenty of times during those four years when I felt like I was on the outside looking in.
Then came senior awards night.
They started calling names for different subject awards, civic awards, and other recognitions, and for one evening, my name kept getting called. Eventually some of my friends started joking, “Let somebody else get one.”
I probably should have felt a little embarrassed, but I didn’t. For the first time in four years, I felt vindicated. All the work I’d put in was being recognized. People saw what I had accomplished, and at 18 years old, that meant a lot to me.
I don’t look back at that kid and think there was anything wrong with enjoying the moment. He had worked hard. He’d earned those awards. I understand why he needed that night because, at that point in my life, being recognized mattered to me more than I’d probably have admitted.
I wish I could sit beside that 18-year-old kid for a minute, though. I’d tell him to enjoy the night. Take the awards. Smile for the pictures. You’ve earned them.
But one day, you’re going to figure out that you don’t need a room full of people calling your name to know who you are.
Week Five: An Impressive Resume
We’ve made it to Week Five of our journey through Philippians at Thompson Station Church, and this week we moved into Philippians 3:1–11.
Paul does something interesting in this passage. He essentially gives us his resume. If anyone had reason to brag about religious credentials, Paul did. He could point to his heritage, his obedience to the law, his zeal, and his reputation. By the standards of the religious world around him, Paul had put together a pretty impressive list. The speaker at our church Sunday went as far as to call Paul “the GOAT” by today’s standards.
Then Paul basically says none of it is worth comparing to knowing Jesus.
Our Life Group study this week makes an important distinction. Accomplishments, careers, possessions, and relationships aren’t bad things. Many of them are blessings from God. The problem comes when we start expecting those good things to tell us who we are.
Paul had plenty he could brag about. He just refused to build his identity on any of it.
Jeff Lovingood preached Sunday and used a phrase that stuck with me: “My being comes before doing.”
That one will preach to a guy like me because I like doing. I work. I write. I lead. I fix things around the house. I find projects for the Jeep. I think about the next article while I’m writing the current one, and I’m usually thinking about the next book before the current book is finished.
I’m not particularly good at sitting around doing absolutely nothing for long. Give me enough time and I’ll find something that needs to be done.
But none of those things really answer the most important question about me.
Who am I?
What Happens When Nobody Calls Your Name?
I think I spent more of my younger years than I realized looking for validation. That’s probably part of why senior awards night felt so good. After several years of not feeling like I fit in, suddenly there was tangible proof that I’d done something worthwhile.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that accomplishments are funny things. They can mean a lot to us in the moment, and then life keeps moving.
I’ve earned degrees. I’ve had different jobs and titles. I’ve written things with my name on them. I’ve published books. Those are all things I’m proud of, and I’m grateful God has allowed me to do them. I’m not going to pretend they don’t matter to me because they do.
They’re just not who I am.
As I was working through my thoughts for this article, my 18-year-old son, Brighton, was sitting beside me on the couch. We were watching The Mandalorian and Grogu together while I worked. He was less than a foot away from me because we were sharing the footrest.
Good times.
There was plenty I could have been doing. There is always something around the house that needs attention. I could have been working on another writing project. I’m fairly certain I could find something on the Jeep to take apart if I looked hard enough.
Instead, my 18-year-old son wanted to sit beside me and watch a movie.
At 48, I appreciate that a lot more than I would have when I was younger. I don’t need every hour of the day to produce something. My kids are growing up, and the number of nights when all six of us are under the same roof isn’t going to increase from here.
Sometimes sitting on the couch with one of them is the thing I need to be doing.
I’m still a doer. I don’t think that’s ever going away. But I’m beginning to understand what Jeff meant when he said my being comes before my doing. Before I’m a writer, manager, author, teacher, leader, or anything else I could put on a resume, I belong to Jesus. I’m Karen’s husband. I’m the father of four kids God entrusted to us.
Take away the titles and accomplishments, and I still have my family. They don’t care how many books I’ve written or what my job title is.
And I still have Jesus.
I Might Be the Other Brother
Growing up in church can create an interesting problem. I knew the Bible stories. I knew the answers. I went to church. I tried to do what I was supposed to do. As I got older, I served and taught and went on mission trips.
For years, when I heard the story of the Prodigal Son, I knew exactly which character I wasn’t.
I wasn’t the kid who left home. Thank goodness I had more sense than that guy. What in the world was he thinking?
Then somewhere along the way, I started realizing something uncomfortable.
I just might be the other brother.
The older brother stayed. He worked. He obeyed. He did what his father expected of him. Then his younger brother came home after blowing everything, Dad threw a party, and the older brother essentially said, “Wait a minute. I’ve been here busting my tail doing what I was supposed to do. Where’s my party?”
I understand that guy more than I’d like to admit.
There have been times when I’ve looked at my own life and wondered where my reward was. I’ve been faithful. I’ve served. I’ve tried to do what God wanted me to do. So, if I’m doing everything I’m supposed to be doing, why does somebody else seem to be getting the party?
That’s a dangerous place to get because suddenly I’m not serving God out of love anymore. I’m keeping score.
Paul knew something about that. He had done all the right religious things, too. Yet in Philippians 3, he refuses to stand before God holding up his resume and pointing out everything he’d done right.
I’ve come to realize we’re all level at the foot of the cross. I don’t get to point toward somebody else’s sin and say, “At least I didn’t leave home.”
I need Jesus just as much as the prodigal does. Maybe that’s what the older-brother version of me took so long to understand.
Empty Me of Me
Toward the end of Sunday’s message, Jeff gave us four simple prayers: Cleanse me today. Empty me of me today. Fill me afresh today. Empower me.
That second one may be the hardest for me because there is entirely too much Maury in Maury sometimes.
One of the things I struggle with is control. My friends know this. If we’re carpooling somewhere, there’s a pretty good chance I’m driving. I like knowing where we’re going. I like deciding when we leave. I like being in control of the vehicle.
Apparently, this has spiritual implications I hadn’t considered.
Following Jesus requires me to admit that I’m not actually driving. I can make plans. I can work hard. I can use whatever wisdom God has given me. I can even have a pretty good idea of how I think things ought to turn out.
God still gets to be God.
Jonah learned that one the hard way. God told him to go to Nineveh. Jonah decided he had a better travel itinerary. After one fairly unpleasant detour involving a fish, guess where Jonah eventually ended up?
Nineveh.
I’ve discovered it’s generally easier to do what God asks the first time.
I don’t always know where God is taking me, and I’m a lot more comfortable admitting that than I used to be. There are things I simply don’t understand and probably won’t on this side of heaven. I’m learning that’s okay. I don’t have to understand everything God is doing to trust that He knows what He’s doing.
That’s a little harder for the guy who always wants to drive, but I’m working on it.
When There’s Nothing You Can Do
Being a problem solver makes dependence difficult sometimes. I like to look at a problem, break it into pieces, and figure out what I can do next. Years in management reinforced that, and marriage and raising four kids reinforced it even more.
Most of the time, I want to do something.
But there are moments when there isn’t anything to do.
I remember Mama calling and telling me she had cancer. There wasn’t a template in my mind for that phone call. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t give her an answer. There wasn’t a series of steps I could work through that would make the diagnosis disappear.
We prayed.
That’s what we could do.
Moments like that remind me how little control I actually have. Intelligence is useful. Experience is useful. Knowing how to solve problems is useful. But eventually something comes along that is bigger than you are, and none of the things you’re normally good at are going to fix it.
You need Jesus.
Maybe that’s part of what Paul had learned by the time he wrote Philippians. He had an impressive resume, but when everything else was stripped away, none of those credentials could do what Jesus had done for him.
Knowing About Him and Knowing Him
Our Life Group guide asks an interesting question this week: What is the difference between knowing about someone and actually knowing them?
I grew up knowing a lot about Jesus, and I don’t mean that negatively. Biblical knowledge matters. I think knowing Scripture is one of the ways our relationship with Jesus grows stronger. I can look at the Bible and see how God was faithful to people thousands of years ago, and that reminds me that He’s going to be faithful to me, too.
But somewhere in adulthood, my understanding of my relationship with Jesus changed.
I started talking to Him more.
I don’t just mean formal prayers at church, before meals, or before going to sleep. I mean conversations throughout the day. I bring Him my frustrations. I ask for wisdom. I thank Him when something good happens. I tell Him when I’m worried.
Sometimes I feel like His answer is, “Just be quiet, Maury.”
Fair enough.
One thing I didn’t expect when I started Grit & Wit was how much writing would deepen that relationship.
When I decided in April 2025 that I was going to write at least once a week, I had no idea where it would lead. I just wanted to write. What I discovered was that writing about my faith made me pay closer attention to it.
Now I’m constantly looking for how Jesus is working in my life. I study more. I reflect more. I find myself thinking about conversations differently. I’ll remember something that happened years ago and suddenly see God’s hand in it in a way I didn’t notice when it happened.
Writing has also made me more mindful of my actions because my faith is more on display now. If I’m going to write about following Jesus every week, I’d better make a pretty serious effort to follow Him the other six days.
What started as a decision to write once a week has turned into something I never expected. I’ve published two books. Another is coming in November. I’m already working on another one for 2027. Some of the stories I wasn’t sure anyone would care about have connected with people in ways I couldn’t have predicted.
Sure, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d started sooner.
But maybe I wasn’t supposed to start sooner.
Maybe April 2025 was exactly when I was supposed to start.
I don’t know. What I do know is that God has done far more with that little decision to start writing than I ever expected Him to do.
Batman Is in My Closet
Paul says he considers everything a loss compared with the surpassing value of knowing Christ.
I have a much less spiritual illustration.
I have a full Batman suit hanging in my closet.
For years I wanted a really good Batman suit. Not the cheap Halloween version. I wanted a legitimate, cosplay-level Batman suit. Eventually I got one, and it’s awesome. I’ve worn it and had a lot of fun with it.
Right now, though, it’s hanging in my closet, and I haven’t worn it since last Halloween. That’s almost a year.
Meanwhile, I’ve been looking at radios for the Jeep, and occasionally I think about what I spent on that Batman suit and realize Batman is currently hanging in my closet wearing approximately one really nice Jeep radio.
I’m not selling the Batman suit, so don’t get any ideas. I still love it. I’ll probably suit up pretty soon.
But I do find it funny that something I wanted for years is now mostly hanging in a closet while I’ve moved on to wanting something else. That’s pretty much how stuff works, isn’t it? We finally get the thing we wanted, enjoy it, and before long there’s another thing on the list.
There’s nothing wrong with that within reason. Paul isn’t telling us we can’t enjoy the things God has given us. I think the danger is expecting any of those things to make us complete.
They can’t.
I’ve become more content as I’ve gotten older. Whatever the opposite of contentment is, I had more of that when I was younger. I don’t feel the same need to have the newest thing or prove something to somebody. I’m pretty happy with the life God has given me.
Although I would still like a better radio in the Jeep that picks up more than two stations.
I’m content, not dead.
What I Would Tell an 18-Year-Old
Maybe that’s why I’ve been thinking about 18-year-old Maury while my own 18-year-old has been sitting beside me. At 18, I didn’t have some grand vision of what my life would become. I was pretty clueless. Mostly, I just wanted to be happy.
If I could somehow take that kid from senior awards night and let him look at my life at 48, I don’t think he’d believe me. My life has turned out so much better than I could have hoped or imagined. God has been very good to me.
In our house, I know where I rank. I’m sixth. There’s Karen, four kids, and then me, and I’m pretty good with that. I have more appreciation now for sitting with the people I love. I can enjoy the house God has given us.
None of those things have to prove that my life matters.
So if Brighton asked me what he needs to accomplish in order to have a successful life, I don’t think I’d talk much about accomplishments at all. Sure, I’d tell him to work hard. Use the gifts God gave him. Be responsible. Take care of his family someday if God gives him one.
But if I only got to tell him one thing, it would be this:
Run after Jesus and never stop. No matter what happens, don’t stop chasing after Jesus.
That’s it.
I’ve lived long enough now to know that jobs change. The stuff you desperately wanted eventually becomes the stuff sitting in your house. Awards from high school end up somewhere in a box in the attic. Even the things we do for God can become dangerous if we start believing they’re the reason God should be impressed with us.
Paul had one heck of a resume.
And after everything he’d accomplished, his desire in Philippians 3:10 was still simply to know Jesus.
That’s what I want, too.
Maybe Jeff’s four prayers are a pretty good place to start each morning: Cleanse me today. Empty me of me today. Fill me afresh today. Empower me.
Because if you took away everything I’ve accomplished, everything I own, every title I’ve ever held, and everything that has ever had Maury D. Wood II printed on it, I know what I’d still have.
I’d have Jesus, and I’d have an eternity with Him waiting for me.
That would be enough.
Live It
Take a few minutes this week and think about how you answer the question, “Who am I?”
Your career can be a blessing. Your family is certainly a blessing. Accomplishments are worth celebrating, and there’s nothing wrong with being proud of something you’ve worked hard to accomplish. I don’t regret enjoying senior awards night, and I’m not throwing away my books or Batman suit.
But none of those things can carry the weight of telling us who we are.
Paul had an impressive resume, but he eventually understood that knowing Jesus was worth infinitely more than anything he could put on it. Maybe that’s worth thinking about this week. What are the things you lean on to tell you that you’re successful, valuable, or important? And what happens when those things aren’t there anymore?
Maybe start tomorrow with Jeff’s prayer: Cleanse me today. Empty me of me today. Fill me afresh today. Empower me.
Then see where God takes you.
Dinner Table Devotional
Read: Philippians 3:7–11
Paul had plenty of accomplishments he could have bragged about, but he realized none of them compared with knowing Jesus. That doesn’t mean everything else in our lives is worthless. It means none of those things can take Jesus’ place.
There’s also a difference between knowing facts about Jesus and actually knowing Him. Paul had followed Christ for years, yet he still wanted to know Him more. That’s a relationship we never finish growing into.
Talk About It
What is something you’ve accomplished that you’re proud of? Why does it matter to you?
What’s the difference between enjoying an accomplishment and allowing it to define who you are?
How is knowing about Jesus different from actually knowing Him?
What is something in your life that makes it difficult to let God be in control?
If someone asked you what makes a life successful, what would you tell them?
Pray
Jesus, thank You for loving us before we accomplish anything for You. Help us enjoy the blessings You’ve given us without allowing them to become our identity. Cleanse us today, empty us of ourselves, fill us afresh with Your Spirit, and empower us to live for You. More than anything we can earn, own, achieve, or become, help us desire to know You more. Amen.
Brighton sent me this a few minutes after this article was published. Pretty fitting. God's timing is perfect. 1 Peter 5:6 CSB
[6] Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you at the proper time,
https://bible.com/bible/1713/1pe.5.6.CSB