I did a 12-step reading the other day that made me think a bit differently about the “vice” (??) of pride.
Pride works from within; it is the direct appreciation of oneself.
Arthur Schopenhauer
Pride, like all emotions, has two faces: one healthy and one sick. It is our challenge to use the healthy side well. Sick pride fills us with ourselves, looks down on others, and has no room for generosity. Healthy pride is heavy with humility. If we can feel joyful when we succeed, and tell others about it honestly, we are not being boastful.
Sick pride often keeps us from doing things because we are too proud to ask for help when we need it, or too proud to risk failure, or too proud to do anything that might not turn out perfect.
Healthy pride about our greatest victories always comes with the awareness that we did not do it all by ourselves. We had the aid, advice, and encouragement of loved ones. In all things that really count, we never walk alone. Even those who claim pride is not a virtue admit that it is the parent of many virtues.
What makes me proud of myself today?
From Today’s Gift: Daily Meditations for Families ©1985, 1991 by Hazelden Foundation.
Of course, even healthy pride is prone to getting sick. It can pick up the common cold with uncommon ease. And, with Pride, the common cold can develop into cancer in a matter of seconds.
Christian thinkers, from Augustine of Hippo to C.S. Lewis, have pointed out that evil is not the opposite of good. Rather, evil is the twisting of something that is good. The Bible has verses that suggest the same.
For example, the Apostle Paul (whom I suspect was a person who struggled with pride) said that there was a good kind of boasting—boasting in the LORD (1 Corinthians 1:31) Boasting is usually a sign of sick pride. Healthy pride is focused outward and upward toward God.
This same Paul pointed out that, if we play our cards right, the very God in whom we boast will commend us. “Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart. Then each one will receive his commendation from God.” (1 Corinthians 4:5, English Standard Version) In other words, God wants to be proud of us!
So, when we actually do something right, it is okay to acknowledge that. However, if we go on and on about it, rest assured that we have crossed over into a pride that does not serve anyone well, least of all, ourselves.
Little things often suggest bigger truths. For example, . . .
. . . I was doing my gratitude list and threw in a comma before the word “but”. My grammar checker flagged the comma. I was a blend of irritated and curious. What was wrong with putting a comma there? My grammar checker was wrong on this one!
Or so I thought.
I checked with Professor Google. Curiosity triumphed over my irritation. From my first hit, I learned that I should only put a comma before the word “but” when it joins two independent clauses.
Here was my original sentence, edited to preserve the privacy of the one for whom I was grateful”
“_________________ had a bad wreck, but is doing well now (or at least better).”
But then, I said to myself—still irritated and wanting to justify my grammatical self—that these two clauses were independent. In fact, now I was even more irritated.
And then it hit me: No, they were not two independent, stand-alone clauses. There is no subject in the second half of the sentence. Therefore, this clause is not independent. I threw in the little word “he” and my grammar checker’s two blue lines magically disappeared. Poof!
Things wax very ironic here. I am a teacher. I am not just interested in good content when I read my students’ papers. I correct my students’ grammar frequently. One of my major emphases is that every sentence needs to have a subject and a verb. I don’t like subjects that are merely “understood”, yet not expressed. It is too easy to misunderstand when something is (supposedly) understood. And here I was, doing the very thing that I correct in my students’ papers.
So, I not only learned something about grammar. I also learned something about me. I learned—again—that I get irritated (and irritation gets me) by what I think I know but don’t. And why is that? I lack one of the cardinal virtues: humility. And naturally, a lack of humility makes me irritated. It also makes me more judgmental of others. What I think I know but don’t may not be so bad in and of itself. In fact, it probably doesn’t amount to anything. However, it can lead to other bad things like pride, irritation, and judgmentalism. Or rather, what I don’t know but think I know can reveal the pride, irritation, and judgmentalism that are already there.
What a lot of unwelcome insight a little comma can generate!
I’ve struggled with perfectionism all my life. And I’ve always known that I am far from perfect. So, because of my (perceived) honesty, I’ve always thought that I at least had a shot at the little known (and less esteemed) virtue that goes by the name “humility.”
Of course, thinking that you are perfect is pride. But it struck me this morning—in a blinding flash of the obvious—that even wanting to be perfect is pride. And pride, according to the Bible, is not simply recognizing that we have accomplished something good. Pride is pretending that our good is a whole lot better than it is. As such, pride is evil. So wanting to be perfect is not a workable idea.
Furthermore, at least in my case, want-to-be perfection is one component of my addictive personality. Desiring a perfection that can never be, creates tremendous soul dissonance. I cannot tolerate that for long, so I create an escape hatch for my perfectionism. What would feel good to me? What would kill the pain, or at least deaden it?
Voila! Addiction! An escape from reality that proves to be even worse than the reality itself.
What is the antidote to this unholy trinity of perfectionism, pride, and addiction? Perhaps facing the reality of my never-going-to-be-enough-ness might help. At least, I’m never going to be enough if “enough” means being perfect.
I was listening to Psalm 119 on the You Version app this morning. The psalmist praises God and his Torah for 175 verses. There are words of mourning, too, and words that encourage himself and his hearers to follow God’s instruction.
But then comes the last verse, verse 176:
“I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek your servant,
for I do not forget your commandments.”
(Psalm 119:176 The Holy Bible, English Standard Version, https://accordance.bible/link/read/ESVS#Psa._119:176.)
Sometimes, that is the best I can do. I’ve wandered away. Come and seek me! I haven’t entirely forgotten your commandments.
“You have given me the shield of your salvation,
and your right hand supported me,
and your gentleness made me great.” (Psalm 18:35, English Standard Version)
My pastor preached a sermon on pride this past Sunday. I can’t speak for others, but his sermons almost always give something to think about and act upon for at least the week. That’s about as long as I can concentrate on anything, so I do need to attend church at least once a week.
And then, in my Scripture reading today, I stumbled across this verse in Psalm 18. (Psalm 18 is a royal psalm. It is very similar to 2 Samuel 22.) And in this royal psalm, David proclaims that God’s gentleness has made him great. The word translated “gentleness” is a Hebrew word that is usually translated “humility.” Apparently, most of the translators did not have the courage to speak of God’s humility. God’s humility seems to be an odd concept to introduce in the midst of a psalm which is so filled with God’s power and God’s empowerment of King David. While there are some translational problems here, I suspect that the main problem is that we simply find it difficult to think that the powerful and empowering God could be humble.
A good friend of mine, a Catholic priest, studied for a while in Italy. Since he was already ordained, he was asked to go to small group of nuns, The Sisters of Charity, and celebrate mass occasionally. On two occasions, Mother Teresa of Calcutta was present.
I asked my friend if he was a little nervous during his homily. He said that he couldn’t remember a single thing he had said. But then he added, “But I’ll never forget something Mother Teresa said on the way out of church. She said, ‘You know, I’m now so much impressed with the power of God as I am with His humility.’ ”
When you turn to the New Testament, you find Jesus who was most certainly a great teacher and prophet. Some of us (I among them) believe that he was actually God with skin on, and with skin in the game. He said,
28 Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30 English Standard Version)
Jesus was a burning, laser-focused point of humility. He called his disciples to follow him, to learn from him, to be like him. It is God’s humility that makes us great. It is also God’s humility that gives us the pattern to follow to help other people to become great.
My wife is not a prideful person. As evidence of her humility, she gave me permission to tell you this story about her.
And yet, even she has her struggles. During our prayer time the other day, she was asking for me to pray for her. She had felt left out recently in regard to a certain matter, and was feeling a bit resentful. “I guess I’m struggling with pride,” she said.
After we had prayed, she turned to a devotional that we are working our way through (Bread for Each Day), and read it out loud. It was titled “THE FIRST SIN”). The Scripture reading at the beginning of the one-page meditation was Proverbs16:18. My sweetheart read the first word of this verse, her eyes got very large, and she burst out laughing. The first word was “Pride”!
“Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18, italics theirs).
We laughed together about the appropriateness of this reading. I said to God, “Hey! Lay off! She already admitted her pride!”
It was a good reading. The author pointed out that pride was involved in the sin of Adam and Eve (Genesis 3:5). Perhaps there is an element of pride in every sin.
For example, I am frequently guilty of radical frustration. “Why haven’t I read all the books ever written about the Old Testament?” I ask myself. Sometimes, frustration boils over, and scalds me and everyone around me with resentment, envy, and self-loathing.
But why on earth do I think that I can or should have read everything written about the Old Testament? The failure—or refusal—to recognize my own limitations is the essence of pride.
I’m not convinced that any of us can ever be entirely humble. If we were, we would probably become proud of the fact that we were entirely humble. We are like dogs chasing our own tails. Seeking to be completely humble is the most subtle and most serious version of pride.
But, at least, we can be aware. We can be aware of how many events in life (and mostly our feelings about those events) trigger our pride. Perhaps such awareness is as close as we can ever come to humility on this side of Heaven.
“Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18, King James Version.)
“Look, Mom, no hands!” (Nine-year-old boy, doing tricks on his bicycle.) “Look, son, a broken arm!” (Mom of the nine-year-old boy, at the emergency room, after the doctor had read the x-ray.) "I learned that it is better, a thousand-fold, for a proud man to fall and be humbled, than to hold up his head in his pride and fancied innocence. I learned that he that will be a hero, will barely be a man; that he that will be nothing but a doer of his work, is sure of his manhood. In nothing was my ideal lowered, or dimmed, or grown less precious; I only saw it too plainly, to set myself for a moment beside it. Indeed, my ideal soon became my life; whereas, formerly, my life had consisted in a vain attempt to behold, if not my ideal in myself, at least myself in my ideal". (George MacDonald, Phantastes, 166.)
I was doing well, I really was. I was hustling to sit people in my station, which wasn’t the best in the restaurant. However, if I look pitiful enough, I can often persuade (guilt?) people into sitting there. I was getting the orders right. After about an hour, I said to myself, “I’m doing pretty well tonight! Maybe I’m getting the hang of this serving business.”
I immediately discovered that I was entirely premature in my self-congratulatory thoughts.
I seated a grandma and grandpa and their little grandson in one of my booths—and proceeded to make three mistakes: I forgot to give them their silverware until the food came out. (They had to ask for silverware!) I didn’t get a salad out in a timely fashion. I forgot that the little guy got applesauce.
It seems that every time I think I’m doing well, I’m not.
So, what is the solution? Not, I think, believing that I am not going to do well in a given situation. Rather, I think that the solution is to simply focus on what I am doing, and striving to do it well. Not beating myself up, and not evaluating. Just being a doer of the work.
Pride precedes a fall. Yes, it does!
So, I apologized profusely, and offered to give them a “d e s s e r t” at my own expense. (I spelled it in case they didn’t want the little guy to have any dessert. Hey, I used to be a dad of small children!)
I did give them a small dessert, paying for it out of my tip money, and they went away fairly content, I suppose. In fact, they left me a six-dollar tip!
Self-congratulation is always a dodgy business. Humility is a choice, but it isn’t really optional. Sometimes, failure is a wonderful reminder of this fact.
“The enemy of the best is the good.” (Jerry Rice and/or Stephen Covey?)
“The enemy of the best and the good is perfectionism.” (Down To Earth Believer)
I had a good day yesterday. I went to a twelve-step meeting, and then hit all three of “my” libraries—CCU, HUC, and the Athenaeum Library at St. Mary’s. Lots of good bibliographic material on Paul’s use of Scripture, Habakkuk, and Romans 1:17! In fact, too much material!
When I was in high school and just beginning to do (more or less) academic papers, I would get several books on whatever topic I was working on, but it was never enough. I would read the books—or at least parts of them. Then I (and my long-suffering Mom) would be up all night putting the paper together the night before it was due. How she put up with me is more than I will ever know.
Research is good. Checking to see what others have said on a given topic is important. However, in my case, this necessary research is out of control, like a resistant mold.
And where does this lust for more resources come from? It comes from my feeling that I really have nothing worthwhile to contribute to the discussion. But, of course, I can point you in the direction of some worthwhile contributions.
So, what is the alternative? To do no research? To just wing it, and say what I think I ought to say?
Perhaps not. Perhaps the right path is the path that threads the needle between two deep ravines. On the one hand, there is overconfidence in my own contributions to the knowledge of God’s Word. In order to avoid falling into this ravine, I do need to do research. My contributions, in order to be good contributions, need to be at least somewhat aware of the contributions of others.
However, the ravine I’m more likely to fall into is the “I-haven’t-read-all-the-relevant-materials-so-how-can-I-possibly-make-a-contribution” ravine. If I am to avoid falling into this error, I need to be humble enough to admit that I will never know “enough.” (For me, “enough” means everything.)
Ironically, humility is the antidote to both of these errors, because (ironically) both of these deep ravines are a result of pride. If I think that I can make a worthwhile contribution without consulting others, that is a complacent form of pride. However, complacent pride is still pride.
And if I think that I have nothing of my own to say, that is a form of false humility. And false humility is just pride that disguises itself in rags of its own making.
So, today, by the grace of God, I will read some of the contributions of others to the topic of my scholarly paper. But I will also write down what I think. I will let humility keep me on the path that I need to travel today.
What about you? You may not be a scholar. That is good! If we were all scholars, we would all starve to death. Those of us who are scholars have our own contributions to make. They are neither more nor less important than the contributions of others. But, in what ways can you value the contributions of others, while at the same time valuing and making your own contributions? I dare you to be humble enough to walk that path!
I double-dog dare you!!
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