My own lack of humility has been forefront on my mind since Sunday. I have tried just now to put my thoughts into some lucid expression of language and have twice failed. Let us hope I do not now strike out.
I’m just not humble. I do things and say things and write things that may appear humble, but I think mostly they’re just a mask to hide my own haughtiness. I recently signed a correspondence “Humbly, James.” Really?!?! Are you serious?
If any of you want to know the truth, I like being recognized. I like being patted on the back and hearing an “AttaBoy!” So ridiculous is my arrogance that I recently rose up within my spirit when someone paid me an honest complement. I essentially said in my foolish self, “Who are you to condescend to pay me this complement? Don’t you know who I am?” I hate how wicked this heart can be and how often it is at very unexpected times. I cannot begin to call myself humble because I know what is within this man. No matter how humble my actions or speech or type-written words may appear, I still, like Adam my first father, think I deserve something more.
This morning Christ addressed me in Luke 14:7-11. I want to be noticed. I cannot read that passage and say, like Christ, shame on those who seek honor. If I am true, then I must read that passage and indict myself.
I think a great example of this is in the next chapter of Luke, the prodigal’s older brother. He spent his whole life standing around waiting for his father to honor him, to give him a goat for a party. And when the little brother is celebrated when found, the older brother steps up and essentially says, “Look out how humble I’ve been, never demanding a thing, where’s my goat?”
It’s crazy how I can be the older brother and the younger brother all at once and the same!
And what can cure an arrogant heart? Nothing! It must be broken. I cannot produce humility within myself, because the moment I do, I have grounds to boast.
Who is the humble man? Jesus, who is the Christ. He humbled himself to the point of an ignoble death among criminals. The Son of God, free of human limitations and confines, became human. He suffered, infinitely, for the sake of doing the will of another. And he did it not grudgingly, but set himself like flint towards the glory of accomplishing the Father’s will with great joy.
And here, at the foot of the cross, is where the breaking must begin. I cannot count the grains of sand, yet they are still exceedingly less than all the goodness done unto the Father’s children by Christ on his cross. Even the breaking of my hard heart is a great mercy and good done unto me by Christ Jesus!
Humility is impossible for me; I cannot do it. “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Romans 7:24-25
Please, don’t call me humble. If you do, I will likely shrug it off and “humbly” disagree. Inwardly, I concur, thus puffing myself up yet again.
Or at least hold off on calling me humble until the Spirit has done a good deal more of breaking the hardness that persists.
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