So this guy in a lunatic-fringe cult discovered the secret to being just like Jesus, and all it takes is a good bathtub. In the comfort of his home, he actually filled the tub, put in the stopper, and tried to walk on water. I guess he thought Super-Spirituality lay just above the water line. Unfortunately, he slipped on the soap one night during his Jesus Act, and the fall killed him.

True story. I couldn't make this up if I tried.

Now, I won't deny our friend was a few verses short of a Bible. If you really want to walk on water, there's always a pond in January. But my twisted mind can't help but consider ... what if the miracle had worked?

What if one night, he levitated over the lavender bath salts and become an instant celebrity? When Bathtub-Man appeared on the talk shows, would he glorify God for the miracle? Or would he take all the applause for his "amazing talent"? Would he lead people to Jesus, or join Barnum and Bailey to show off in the center ring?

It must be hard to remember God instead of self-promoting when you've just done a miracle. Hey, it's hard when people think you're kinda cool. Not that I'd know.

Coolness

For three years, I talked in front of teenagers for a living — 15,000 of them, at last count. When a youth pastor-friend first asked me to speak to a bunch of adolescents, I just shook my head. Teenagers? Right. And I'm Billy Graham.

But the first time I shared part of my life, I was amazed by its power. I told a group of rowdy junior highers that I was Target Number One for bullies in middle school. Amazingly, they shut up and listened. Sixth graders shed tears when I admitted to dreading school because kids abused me daily. Every teen listened because it was every teen's story.

Later that month, seventh graders wrote letters telling me how much my story impacted them. A high school principal called to say one of his bullies reformed after hearing me speak. Teenie-bopper girls even thought I was cute and asked their teachers how old I was. It was all kind of flattering, but I was profoundly grateful to God. "Lord, this is so cool!" I prayed. "The stuff that used to make me cry myself to sleep is transforming lives. Who could do that kind of miracle but You, Jesus?" I actually wept in awe at the way He was using me.

However, the tears diminished as the compliments became commonplace. When I started planning my future speaking career, sharing applause with the Almighty got old. Of course, God was whispering in my ear, reminding me I was doing this thing called ministry ... which usually involves glorifying Him. But I just brushed Him off. I was on the road to greatness!

The Concert

Unfortunately, success doesn't always make you feel as good as it's supposed to. Maybe you've had a week when everything goes wrong and you're tempted to lock yourself in a room and never come out. You're mad at the world and mad at God and you'd probably throw something at the Almighty if you could — but you can't seem to find Him. It figures. Just when you finally decide you need God, He feels a million miles away.

I was having one of those weeks, and all I wanted to do was retreat to my apartment and lick my wounds. Unfortunately, duty called: the pastor of my singles group scheduled a meeting.

But I realized this wasn't going to be an ordinary gathering the moment he led us into his living room. A professional string quartet was tuning up next to the couch. I figured I would enjoy myself — I have a rare neurosis that involves the appreciation of classical music. But nothing could prepare me what happened next.

It was a miracle.

When I closed my eyes and the musicians began to move their bows, I wasn't sitting in a living room anymore. I was swept away by rushing, laughing streams of beauty! I cried for joy, then turned flying cartwheels in my soul. Somewhere during the concert, I found my missing connection with God. I wept inwardly as soaring melodies brought me back to the Giver of all good gifts. For a few minutes, I was a spiritual being; a resident of the Kingdom of Heaven! "If beauty like this can inhabit our pain-filled world," I remember thinking, "maybe things aren't hopeless. And if heaven can top this — I can only imagine!"

When the concert finally ended, I applauded. But instead of congratulating the violinists, I retreated into a quiet corner. My soul exalted in the music, and I wanted to pray.

I praised the Master Composer who overwhelmed me with beauty through four men sawing on catgut. It was quite an unlikely way for God to show up. But then, He came to earth packaged in baby fat 2000 years ago. It's not surprising that He visits through such humble vessels today.

Then God interrupted my Super-Spiritual thoughts. He seemed to ask, Why don't you go tell them how great they are?

Well, they were awesome, Lord, I said in prayer. But they were only vessels! You're the One who can heal my heart. Why would I want autographs? I want You!

And at that moment, an uninvited thought invaded my head. If I don't want autographs from these musicians, I thought, then why would anybody who saw me perform want one? They probably shouldn't ... unless I'm pointing to George instead of God. Unless I'm doing the exact opposite of the musicians and glorifying myself. Unless I'm too busy being "great" to remember the whole reason I'm onstage.

It's hard for God to get into your life when you're already full of other things. Especially yourself.

Jar of Miracles

From that day forward, my life has been transformed. I've never struggled with pride again, and my life is full of spiritual ecstasy because I'm living in obedience.

Yeah, right. And the airport's opening a new runway for pigs.

Actually, God recently booted me into the freelance world, which is pretty far from ecstasy and requires twice as much faith as I've ever had before. It also requires promoting your own work, and there's a fine line between public relations and shameless bragging. But this much I can tell you: God's given me a whole new perspective on how I use my gifts. It has a lot to do with six stone jars.

You've probably heard John, chapter 2 a couple thousand times. Jesus was at a wedding when they ran out of wine. In the days before cash bars, that was a big deal; a major embarrassment for the happy couple. But the story has a happy ending — Jesus fills half-a-dozen jars with water, and when the servants pour the next glass, it's fine Chardonnay.

Have you ever thought about the story from the perspective of those jars? One minute they're sitting in the corner being ignored. The next minute they're home to a miracle! They were big hulking clay pots; 20 gallons each — the bathroom sinks of the day. But when Jesus needed a place for a miracle, He looked around and decided to make those ugly vessels into Jars of Miracles. They had nothing to commend themselves for the task. Except ... they were empty.

Oops. That's what I was missing.

I realized Bathtub-Man and I had something in common. He wanted to walk on water so everybody would see how spiritual he was. I wanted to be a great speaker instead of a place for God to work. The problem is that miracles don't come in full bathtubs; they come in empty jars. The string quartet knows that. Their CD jacket reads, "Without God, nothing matters."

They brought a miracle into my life — a miracle of healing and seeing God. They also helped me make a decision. No matter where God takes me, I've resolved to wash the dirt out of my heart and become something greater than a star performer.

I want to be empty. That way, maybe I can become a Jar of Miracles, too.