The Graffiti tree

Zooming over the underwater forest, I stop above the most majestic tree. It is by far the most fruitful, but it appears to be dying. I hope off my helicopter, and go in for a closer look. Etched into the bark of the tree are a bunch of initials and signatures. I see a couple of ititials that I recognise- my own for one. The bark is diseased now, because it is so scarred by the graffiti, but it breaks off piece by piece and new, clean bark appears beneath.

It's very tempting to try and associate ourselves with successful minstries, or even with successful minsters. If we try to make our own little mark on that ministry, we will just infect the minstry with our fleshly pride and kill it, unless the Lord sheds that superficial bark and brings fresh, anonymous servants in to continue the work.

Why try to get your name in lights when it's already in the book of life?