Everything depends upon me.
I must bring healing to that grieving family.
If I don’t show up to lead, the work will never be done.
Maybe…
The work to be done is important. We should be serious about it.
Perhaps not so serious about ourselves. Such focus leads to pride. Which leads to a fall.
Relax. Let the spirit flow through you to do the work. Chuckle at your shortcomings. Try easy.
There was an old kid’s saying that when you point your finger at someone there are three pointing back at you.
Truth lies behind that saying. What you do speaks louder that what you say. And it all reflects back on others’ perception of your character.
Who likes the self-righteous person always ready to point to other’s faults and “wrong” theologies?
No one. Most likely not even the person doing the pointing.
If you find yourself in this loop, pause and try kindness.
I have been reading some ancient insights into pride and humility. As I was making some notes in the margins of the book, this thought came naturally. It derived from personal experience and from observation.
How often does our pride interfere with learning when we read the Bible?
Since we already know it all, do we read simply to reinforce our opinions?
Can we read with a mind open for God to speak new insights directly to us (think of yesterday’s post about praying with open hands)?
Can we read, and, instead of assuming we know what every word means, be puzzled over the meaning of a word? And take time to look it up? Discerning the nuances of translating from the Greek or Hebrew?
I often read with my smart phone handy stopping to look up a word. Often surprised at the word’s various meanings and derivatives. It’s easier than the old days of reading with a dictionary at hand.
Putting pride behind us with a dose of humility is a great warm up before study.
The class at the university taught management of public organizations. I don’t remember why, but that class introduced me to a psychologist called Leon Festinger and the idea of cognitive dissonance.
When I am introduced to new information, sometimes as I digest it I experience some amount of stress figuring it all out. Of course, that’s my personality type. Some people solve that problem by just rejecting any new information. That’s their loss.
Try out these thoughts, for example. Don’t we all think in terms of ourselves? Seems natural.
Today, Jon Swanson pondered as he leads us through this part of Lord’s Prayer, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” He notices, “Not my kingdom. Not our kingdom. Your kingdom.”
The pastor of the church we now attend likes to say as he institutes the Lord’s Supper, “Not my table, not your table, but God’s table.”
Cognitive dissonance? What? It’s not my table to decide who and what? It’s not my kingdom to rule over this and that?
Who is this God who thinks he’s in charge? Oh, I guess he is. Whether I like it or not. And I’d better digest that piece of information for my own well being.
Has it ever happened to you? Someone asks a question. You don’t really know the answer. But we feel the urge to say something. Anything. Sometimes out of pride we make up an answer. Maybe something we heard on YouTube. Maybe something overheard on the street. It may or may not be accurate. But who cares? We needed to fill the silent void.
I was trained to write with certainty, to develop an argument, to be persuasive. And to speak that way. Even when I am throwing out an idea expecting pushback and discussion, people take it as definitive. End of discussion.
Sometimes we need to say “I don’t know. What do you think?” Sometimes just a simple I don’t know:
When someone asks how a virus spreads…
When someone asks how to interpret a difficult Greek text…
When someone asks about politics…
When someone asks, why God…
If you’ve followed me long, you realize I’m an eclectic reader. I’m like a sponge plus a filter when it comes to absorbing information and wisdom wherever I can. Steven Pressfield writes fiction, nonfiction, and screenplays. His The War of Art (a cute play on words from the classic Sun Tzu, The Art of War) talks about The Resistance that interferes with your creative process.
He writes a weekly newsletter. This morning he wrote about the memorial service for his old friend and mentor Norm Stahl. Norm’s son told the story of Norm and his cousin. The cousin called once and asked for $25,000 for an emergency (most likely a gambling debt). This was many years ago when that was really a lot of money. Norm had it, and he loaned it. The cousin never paid it back.
The entire family knew the situation. It was a constant source of tension at family gatherings. At one family holiday gathering the tension visited again. Norm got up and walked toward his cousin. He hugged him. It broke the tension. Everyone was released.
Pressfield writes, The change in Norm was he shifted from the ego to the soul. This is monumental. It’s the equivalent, if you ask me, of what the Buddha would call Enlightenment.
The ego holds grudges. The ego sees only its own self-interest. The ego hoards slights and grievances. The ego hates.
But the higher self sees soul-to-soul. It pierces the Little Picture and perceives what’s really important. It loves. It forgives.
Pressfield is spot on. That is why Jesus and the early Christian Desert Fathers (see John Climacus, for example) spent so much time on ego, pride, humility.
I sense that we (all of us) need to meditate and pray deeply about our own journey from ego to soul. Someone need a hug today?
You are not perfect!
I am not perfect!
We are not perfect.
Sorry to inform you.
Maybe you thought you were the exception that proves the rule.
Maybe you think that everyone else should be perfect—just as you tell them (order them) to be. Hint: see rules above.
I have experienced Christians who thought they were made perfect once they were “saved.” One group I knew held prayer meetings during our break times in the factory. To my eyes, they cheated the company out of 40 minutes of productive labor for which they were paid. Even if they were praying. That is not perfect. Even in a monastery where people live lives devoted to God, there is prayer time and there is work time.
We seem to have a brand of Christians all over the globe who seem to think that they are perfect and that they can force everyone else to be perfect. Guess what? It has been proven that that won’t work. But certain men keep trying.
We also punish ourselves. We want a perfect family. A perfect diet. Perfect exercise.
Those will not happen.
Everyone just needs to relax. Breathe deeply. Hold. Release slowly.
Now, just build healthy lifestyles and routines. Forget perfect. Live in the spirit. Try on some attitudes such as humility and forgiveness and joy.
Quite by accident the second edition of “Humble Inquiry: The Gentle Art of Asking Instead of Telling,” by Edgar H. Schein and Peter A. Schein appeared in my mail the other day. Reviewing some older notes, I saw the recommendation. When this book arrived, I discovered I had the first edition on my bookshelf. The second edition was worth the refresher.
Do you know any long-time elementary school teachers? Ever listen to them? Do their questions sound often like a prosecuting attorney going after a criminal suspect?
Do we catch ourselves asking questions to test other people? Or questions where we wish to discover if they are for us or against us? Questions meant to trap us—like often were posed to Jesus?
The gentle art of asking questions instead of telling people reveals true curiosity. We want to know what someone else is thinking—really.
The gentle art draws people in rather than establishing a barrier between people. Its foundation includes trust, sincerity, mindfulness. I would add intention.
So often we ask, but then we fail to listen to the answer. Listening, that is, that involves our complete attention.
I wrote about this book five years ago. It’s one of those books that requires a reread periodically. It’s brief. Readable. New insights will pop out each reading.
Preparing for this little essay, I spotted this headline from today’s The New York Times, AI’s Best Trick Yet Is Showering Us With Attention. Last week Americans, and indeed the world, were treated to photos of our Congresspeople posturing for social media seeking attention in any way they could get it. But it’s not just the Kardashians or Paris Hilton, who was “famous for being famous.” We all want to get into the act.
Richard J. Foster begins his latest book with the trigger that set him on a year-long study and reflection on humility. In a society where raging narcissism dominates the moral landscape, the virtue of humility is often dismissed as irrelevant. Not only is humility vanishing from contemporary culture, but we are also witnessing how destructive a lack of humility has become among our churches and ministry leaders.
I’ve not read many of Foster’s books. I have read and taught from Celebration of Discipline. This book is Learning Humility: A Year of Searching for a Vanishing Virtue.
We learn that there is strength in humility. And there is wisdom in humility. We learn from the Bible, and from wisdom of the Lakota people, and from Julian of Norwich, and Evagrius Ponticus (one of my favorites), and more.
I recommend reading this book and joining Foster in the journey toward learning humility. And like I said yesterday, it’s not about learning it in our head, but about practicing it with our actions.
I leave you with the little prayer that guided Foster during his journey.
Lord, would you
Said the big adult man soccer player to the somewhat smaller referee pointing to the parking lot. As I was dismissing a player from game, he waved a fist in front of my face (I knew him well, I was only slightly intimidated), “Who made you God?”
Erich Fromm published a book in 1966, “You Shall Be As Gods” taking a phrase from the Hebrew scriptures.
Nassim Nicholas Taleb writing a book of aphorisms called The Bed of Procrustes, says, “Religion isn’t so much about telling man that there is one God as about preventing man from thinking he is God.”
How many people have you met who seem to think they are God? Or, at least they have a special message spoken only to them from God?
When I begin to think that I am that special, eventually I will realize I am on that I-am-like-God path. And it is time to practice humility. To answer Denny in the first paragraph, “No one made me God. I am not God.”
Gary Mintchell
Faith Venture 