I have a crown. I put it on every morning just in case I feel the need to show it to someone. It’s an okay crown, as crowns go, I suppose. Oh it used to be shinier and it had more jewels in it, but it is still basically goldish/silverish in color, though if you look closely (or not so closely), you can definitely see signs of tarnish, and wear and tear.
But I still wear it. It’s my crown. And it’s the only one I have, faded and worn though it may be.
During worship this morning, I sang a song called “What Joy is Found,” and the words of the ending chorus go like this; I’ve come to worship/I’ve come to bow down/to seek only your face/laying down my crown.
As I sang those words over and over, I realized that it’s much easier to say “I will lay down my crown,” than it is to actually do the laying down part.
Truth is, I still want my crown. I guess because whenever I think of it, I see it as still beautiful. Still shiny and sparkly. But I realized today just how worn and tarnished the crowns we wear really are. It’s sort of the same thing about how our righteous acts are as filthy rags (Isa. 64:6).
Even though I am convinced that the crown we will receive when Jesus appears is beautiful beyond the likes of which we have ever seen or could imagine, it’s still hard to lay mine down. It boggles my mind.
What’s your crown? Wealth? Beauty? Talent beyond measure? Even the good things we do — the righteous things — can become our crowns if we let them. I don’t know about you, but I want with all my heart to learn how to lay my crown down.
After all, nobody can wear two crowns at the same time.
And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away. 1 Peter 5:14
