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  • Writer's pictureTammy Borden

What Adele Taught Me About God

Have you seen it? It was all over social media a few years ago — the video of Adele impersonating Adele among a bunch of other Adeles? I've watched it over and over. Most people will watch it and laugh.

I laughed, too. Really laughed.

Adele disguised her fame and stepped down from her notoriety to be one of us — a common, everyday girl named "Jenny." It's funny to watch her chit chat back stage with other impersonators, even taking the occasional jab at herself, which led to one contestant saying, "I bet you wouldn't say that to her face."

"Oh, I would," she said.

It's really quite delightful to watch. And when "Jenny" is the last to go on stage and she opens her mouth to sing Make You Feel My Love, jaws drop and eyes widen as the small group of onlookers comes to the realization that the real Adele was among them the whole time.

And they never knew it.

There's a profound truth hidden in the story here. It certainly wasn't intended to be a life lesson — but that's what it became for me.

This story reminds me of someone else who came down from his fame and glory and disguised himself as one of us. He put on normal flesh and bone and identified with our humanity, our brokenness, and how we fall short. Yes, I'm talking about the most famous person to ever walk the earth, or the heavens, for that matter — Jesus.

I know, I know. Please don't stop reading. Hear me out.

Each of us is a mere impersonator of the real thing. We can never be Him, but we can know Him and reflect who He is on our stage — our life. And when that moment comes — that moment when He reveals who He really is to you and each of us, will we respond like those in this story? Will our eyes be opened? Will it catch our breath? Will we be in awe and realize with astonishing and gleeful revelation that He's been among us this whole time and we didn't even know it?

Or will we be so focused on our own performance that we miss Him?

Or will we continue to believe it couldn't possibly be true. Why would God lower himself to our level? How can God possibly care about the "little" people? Will we respond in anger toward Him because He didn't quite look or act the way we thought He should have all this time, and because we feel our stage, our story, isn't going according to script?

As He sings His love song to us, will we join in as a beautiful supporting choir of unified voices, not caring if we hit all the notes perfectly? Will we relish in the unfathomable thrill of singing along, not comparing ourselves to the voices around us — but with our eyes fixed on Him?

I'm realizing more each day that the only way to make a difference in this world and truly shine His light is to not set myself apart — to not "make you feel my greatness," but to "make you feel my love."

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