How do you like them apples?

 

The last three sermons I heard were about pride. People, let me tell you that when you hear three sermons in three consecutive weeks by three different people in different venues on the same topic, you best start listening because God most likely be talking to you, or in this case, me. Now, for those of you who know me intimately, particularly my husband (oh, how the bonds of holy matrimony can turn the ugly mirror of self reflection on oneself), I’m sure you are nodding your heads right now and rubbing your hands in glee with thoughts of, “She’s finally getting what’s been coming to her!!!” while laughing your sinister little laugh. Take note of the first three letters in that word, sinister, and examine your own log for awhile first. But I suppose me telling you that would be my pride rearing its ugly head evermore.

The first sermon I heard on this topic was in church the Sunday after last. I actually thought our pastor just tacked it onto the end of his sermon on King Uzziah because he needed some filler to get us to the closing. Then, a different pastor, spoke about it all day yesterday in a totally different light. I took notice that he presented pride in a different light than I had ever heard before (did you know that shyness is really just another form of pride because it is still completely focused on me, me, me?). Interesting, but I was still too thickheaded and, dare I say it, prideful to think that any of it could actually be applied to my life. Instead, I was inventorying all of the people I know who needed to hear this lesson. That folks, is a bad thing, and fortunately all too common in the church today.

It didn’t hit me until this morning (at this point I can hear you saying to yourself, “My, how dense she must be!”) in our chapel service at work (topic: pride, once again) that maybe God was speaking to me. Is that prideful in and of itself, to think that the Creator of all things is speaking to me? Honestly, I suppose it could be, but it wasn’t in a self glorifying, “You are to be worshipped by all people or they will die” kind of way. It was more along the lines of, “You know, you’ve got issues and until you start listening to me and actually do what I’m asking you to do, you’re always going to have them.”  This certainly wasn’t meant in any threatening way, but more like a parent who tells their child not to do something for their own well-being but the child is too, ah, prideful, to actually listen- something my own parents can attest to in my case.

The thing that is hardest for me when listening to these types of sermons (the “Oh great, that’s me he’s talking about up there!” type) is how. How am I prideful and how can I be humble? I know I’m supposed to have humility, but tell me how to do it. Of course, that’s asking for too much of a quick fix. I mean, I can do all of the right things for the sake of doing them, but that’s really at the heart of pride in the first place, isn’t it. Mmmm, perfectionism. I’m not downplaying doing a job well done. God continually tells us to do all things to the best of our abilities. But, we’re not perfect and it’s prideful to try to be so. That’s what led to Satan’s fall, Adam and Eve’s fall and our own. Pride comes before the fall. It’ a colloquialism for a reason.

I think a lot of this generation’s pride issues come from the “self-esteem” movement so popular in our formative years. Don’t get me wrong, I think having a balanced view of oneself is healthy. Here are your weaknesses, hear are your strengths and don’t get too caught up with any of them kind of thinking. However, I think the idea that we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want to be and not only reach for the moon, but secure the sun in the process has actually contributed to an overinflated, me, me, me, mine, mine, mine attitude that is pervasive to those of us under 30. Contrary to popular belief, Little Jane cannot be whatever she wants if she sets her mind to it. She will never be the NBA basketball player-rock star-Noble Peace prize winning-President of the United States that most kids dream of being. Frankly, she’ll be lucky to graduate college and land a job that will pay off student loans in ten years which most likely exceed an average mortgage. And, most likely, she’ll feel like she’s settling for a job that pays the bills and not one that really allows her “to reach her full potential” thus setting her up for years of disillusionment and frustration. And why? Because she really isn’t reaching her full potential? Because she isn’t successful unless her job falls within the acceptable parameters of worthy occupations? Because she’s not just throwing her cares to the wind and doing what she wants to do instead of settling? Because she’s not a CEO or multi-millionaire or first person to set foot on Mars before she’s thirty? No. When you really get right down to it, Jane’s going to have problems no matter what she does vocationally because of one little word that’s plagued us from the beginning: pride. I know it, I live it, I struggle with it. I tell myself over and over again that success is not found in the workplace or in a title or in a position, high or low, but solely in my relationship with Christ. And when did success become about having a certain job or making a certain amount of money anyway? And for those of you who say that’s just what unsuccessful people say to make themselves feel better, get real. That’s just what unhappy “successful” people say to make themselves feel better.

I’ve been told that it doesn’t matter what other people think, only what you think of yourself. I don’t think that’s right either. Sometimes those other people have it right where you have it wrong. To be completely honest, I think far too much of myself most of the time, just ask my husband. At the same time, being concerned with what other people think is prideful too. Care to join me in tasting those apples?

When you get right down to it, there’s really only one measure that we can draw ourselves up to for comparisons sake, and it’s one that we’re always going to fall short on. God sets high standards. None of us can reach them and that’s just how he likes it. Not because it causes him some sort of twisted mirth to see us try and fail over and over, but because in the failing, we have the opportunity to admit that we can’t do it without him and enter into a dependent relationship with him. Not being a parent, I can’t say if this is true or not, but it seems to me that parents seem to get great joy out of helping their children. Not to keep them needy, but because in the helping, relationship is best forged.

But asking for help is hard. Being dependent is hard. Why? Because we’re prideful and don’t want to admit that we can’t do something for ourselves. Dependency has become one of the most despised aspects of relationships in the past 50 years (women’s lib anyone?) when really it’s a vehicle for healthy relationships (and I’m not talking codependency here, which is also a form of me, me, me pride that has become rampant in our society). No wonder we’re falling apart out here. And if you can’t admit to falling apart, start rereading from the top.