Nobody likes feeling small — that feeling caused when one person lords him or herself over another.
Or — something good, ordinary people feel every day — that helpless feeling we get after reading the paper, scrolling through social media, or watching the “news” —
“The world is so big and unfriendly,” we think, “and I have no power to make any changes.
“But there are so many people — too many people — who have power to make my life difficult, or frustrating, or unpleasant.”
(Actually, it’s not so much that there are a lot of people who possess this power, but those few who do, exert their power relentlessly. But even they would have less influence if good, ordinary people did not help them out by advancing their causes, supporting their corporations, buying their books, defending their names, and being their willing and subservient acolytes. If you’re going to follow anybody, make sure he or she is good, honest, trustworthy, compassionate, kind, and wise.)
But back to feeling small: there is a time when it is good to feel small, and this is shown in the artwork, Serenity.
A young woman sits before the vast and majestic Grand Canyon, a landscape so broad and big and mighty and truly incredible that only an arrogant, tiny-minded, shriveled-heart type of person does not feel its grandeur. In front of this vast space we not only feel physically small, but also quite vulnerable: few, actually zero, are the people who can fling themselves over the edge (without a paraplane) and fly.
We feel small, like children, and indeed children we are — children of the good, honest, trustworthy, compassionate, kind, and wise Creator who not only made this grand canyon, but the rest of the earth, and all of us as well. HE is big, and his power is held in good hands, hands that do not snatch and grab, grasp and push, slap and strike.
Before him we can safely be small and vulnerable, because he uses his power to protect and cherish us.