Learning to lean into the opportunities for humility
In childhood Sunday School classes, we sang “Humble Thyself in the Sight of the Lord” in a perfect two-part round that sent chills down my spine, but I don’t ever remember any teacher ever teaching on humility. The Fruit of the Spirit, yes. Being loving, courageous, evangelistic – check, check, check.
Humility was a sort of mystery to me. You could achieve it by being Not Proud, but that was just as nebulous and abstract. So I just don’t brag about myself? Doesn’t sound too hard. I vaguely remember absorbing the concept that If you are humble, you won’t know that you are. Not exactly a measurable life goal.
So I find it fascinating that there seems to be a growing awareness in our culture – and not just among Christians – that humility is a valuable virtue. I recently read Tempered Resilience, which emphasized the necessity of humility in leadership. Then I read The Ideal Team Player, which emphasized (you guessed it!) humility in being the (you guessed it!) ideal team player. And super-popular speaker Brene Brown talks about it all the time.
It seems that I’m not the only one waking up to the significance of humility.
Humility is wallpapered all over Scripture.
Those who humble themselves will be exalted.
Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.
He humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!
Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.
God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.
Humility comes before honor.
In humility, value others above yourselves.
Clothe yourselves with humility toward one another.
Jesus is the quintessence of humility. The Creator of the universe entered earth in a feeding trough, mingled with the dregs of society, washed the feet of his followers, and orchestrated his own execution in order to rescue humanity. If our lives are meant to mirror his, one could argue that humility defines Christianity.
Yet, in general, I stink at humility.
There is the pride of being “radical” or the pride of being “realistic.”
There is the pride of being able to “spot a sinner” or the pride of being able to “notice the hurting.”
There is the pride of doing “only what you want to do” or the pride of doing “whatever needs doing.”
There is the pride of being “perfectly honest” or the pride of being able to “get along with people.”
There is the pride of being “on top of an issue” or the pride of having an “open mind.”
There is the pride in all one has “acquired” or the pride over all one has “sacrificed.”
There is the pride over “how great our church is” or the pride of “knowing exactly what’s going wrong.”
There is the pride of being a “victorious Christian” or the pride of being one who “struggles with God.”
~Dick Rasanen *
I don’t know about you, but I can’t read that without wincing. It slices me right open.
Since I stink at being humble, and since it’s quite obviously pretty important to God, and since even non-Christians are realizing how important it is to cultivate humility in our world, I’ve started paying attention to the opportunities in my life to lean into humility.
Opposite of my childhood understanding, I can know when I am embracing humility. The opportunities present themselves to me daily.
When I feel unnoticed or unappreciated, I can throw myself a big pity party complete with over-eating junk food, or I can shut up, pick myself up, get back to work, and love people. Humility absorbs slights.
When I feel like a gigantic failure, when I am reminded that I am not the great wife or mom or missionary that I envisioned I would be and inadequacy laughs in my ear, I can wallow in my patheticness and drown it in Instagram reels, or I can acknowledge I was wrong. Humility apologizes. And clings to grace.
When I am accused of being wrong, I can get defensive and angry, proving my point and getting the last word, or I can back down instead of justifying myself. Humility doesn’t always have to be right.
When I look in the mirror and see a part of me that’s far less than perfect, I can obsess over it or hide from the world or throw lots of money at it, or I can accept that beauty is fleeting and find contentment in less attention. Humility willingly accepts a lower social status.
When I worry about what people think of me, I can ruminate on that embarrassing moment or simper and entice, clamoring for reassurance, or I can remind myself that if they really knew me, they would think much worse. Humility is vulnerable.
When I realize I can’t do everything on my own, I can play the martyr and work myself into burnout, or I can reach out for help from others, even if it makes me feel weak. Humility is dependent.
Kelly Kapic writes, “Humility does not simply say, ‘I’m sorry,’ or, ‘Please forgive me.’ Humility also says, ‘I don’t know,’ ‘Can you help me?’ and ‘How should I do this?’ It begins by saying, ‘God favors me, so I don’t have to be self-absorbed,’ ‘Loving people is the most sensible way to live,’ and ‘I can’t do everything, but God reigns and cares for me and others, so that’s okay.’
If humility defined Christ’s life, and my life is meant to mirror his, then I can look at every disappointment, failure, humiliation, rejection, imperfection, and weakness as an opportunity to lean into identification with him. These are not situations to despise; they are situations to embrace.
Why wouldn’t I want to? Pursuing humility makes me less anxious, less angry, less obsessed, less agitated, more content, more full of peace. Prayer becomes like breathing as I face each challenge with dependency on God. It makes me a better leader, a better team player, a better wife, a better mom.
It’s fascinating to me that even the non-Christian world is noticing that humans are wired for pride but function best with humility. Huh, interesting. That’s the gospel right there. That’s Creation/Fall/Redemption – exactly what the Bible has taught for thousands of years.
I am greatly indebted to Paul Miller’s books for their influence in this article: J-Curve and A Praying Life.
* Many thanks to EFCA’s interim president, Carlton Harris, for introducing me to this profound quote.
* Photos by Gil Medina
Related: I Don’t Want to Waste This Emptiness
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