Simple Humility

I read this question tonight: Why is it so difficult to be humble?

The first thing that came to mind was the drilled-in, "Christian-ese" (pronounced similar to "Japanese" if you don't know-- we tend to make our own culture and language at times. I'm not sure it's a good thing, but I digress) answer of "Because we have a sin nature."

While this is true, I felt the need to dive a little deeper. And deep is where I found myself.

God quickly led me down the path of True Motives and opened the too-familiar door of Selfishness.

I don't go out of my way for people often. I think of it, and I want to, but I simply don't. Sometimes there's a financial reason, but usually it's straight up laziness. Occasionally I will actually act on something. I'll see a need I can meet, and I do it. I do my best to keep it under wraps-- partially because I'm not a huge fan of the awkwardness of attention, and partially because God says:

"So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." (Matt. 6:2-4)

And not for the "reward" part. I don't know what that would even look like (aside from joy), and I would feel overwhelmingly unworthy.

Anyway, so I do these things "in secret." But I still harbor this underlying longing to be noticed. It's so backwards. Part of the awesomeness of meeting a need secretly is the excitement of the secret itself. I don't know how things work for you, but it's a sad truth in my world.

I thought about all this with the "humility" question. And I came to this simple, but profound conclusion.

We seek our worth from people.

If God was really the closest person to me, if my self esteem was determined by what He thought of me, I would have nothing to brag about. I would be whole and complete in His eyes and arms.

But I am not in that place.

And since I'm not, I seek instead to be filled with what other people think and say about me and my actions. The only way to have that desire met is to let people know how "great" I am (in a sneaky way of course), so I can have pride in myself. If that pride is extracted or annulled, I'm left with humility, and that means I may never get noticed. And that, my friends, is scary.

Our pastor said this:

God + Nothing = Everything

God + ________ (<---- anything you can think of) = Fear

Lord, help me to quit trying for peoples' approval and to look solely to You. Blanket me in the natural humility that comes from a closer walk with You.

Is the Lord's arm too short?

People say God is a crutch. I think they mean it to be cruel, but without Him, I know I'd spend a lot more time lying around on my face than I already do. And with the daily use of that crutch comes a sort of addiction.

One way I get my "fix" is through prayer-- just talking things out. "Gossiping" to God about all the stupid things in life, complaining about my own selfishness, just an overall venting. The bonus to blabbering it all out to Him (instead of a tangible friend) is that not only can no one get hurt, but sometimes He fixes the problem then and there. He's so cool and such a powerful friend to have.

Anyway, sometimes my prayers can become repetitious, and I have trouble saying what I'd like to say. I can't think creatively, and while I'd like to go deeper, I just can't. And so I have a few of Stormie Omartian's books, "The Power of a Praying _____."

This morning I was sitting down with her "Power of a Praying Wife," and I came across this prayer:


Lord, help me to be a good wife. I fully realize that I don't have what it takes to be one without Your help. (**There's that crutch again!)

Take my selfishness, impatience, and irritability and turn them into kindness, long-suffering, and the willingness to bear all things.

Take my old emotional habits, mindsets, automatic reactions, rude assumptions, and self-protectiveness, and make me patient, kind, good, faithful, gentle, and self-controlled.

Take the hardness of my heart and break down the walls with Your battering ram of revelation. Give me a new heart and work in me Your love, peace, and joy (Galatians 5:22, 23). I am not able to rise above who I am at this moment. Only You can transform me.


It's so simple and straight-forward. Yet I cannot digest it. I slowly took in each of those words: patient, kind, good, faithful, gentle, and self-controlled. In the sincerest, most honest part of my heart, I had to bare my emptiness to Christ and admit that I have none of those attributes. Not one. It's hard to even type that kind of authenticity. Because I don't want to admit it. I like to think I'm at least good. But I know my heart.

And so I sat there in complete humility, knowing He is the only path to the kind of change I need. But it's impossible. Since somewhere in elementary school, I can remember trying to be kind. Less sarcastic and harsh. It's ongoing, and I see no potential for victory. My selfishness blocks pretty much any of those wonderful traits. But I LOVE it. I like my world to look exactly as I want it to look. In raw truth, I don't want to give up my focus on myself.

In short, I see no end.

Then I looked to the next page in the book, where there's always a quaint little verse printed. And it read this:

"Whatever things you ask for when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them." Mark 11:24

And it lead me to question how much I really believe God. Do I think He's not strong enough to change me? Do I think He doesn't love me enough to care? I know the answers to these questions.

In the Old Testament (Numbers chapter 11 to be exact), when the Israelites were in the desert, God provided miraculous manna to feed them. Every day. They got sick of it, which is understandable. But then they complained and whined about how they'd rather be in slavery. God heard about it (of course), and got a little ticked off. So He pulled Moses aside and said this: "The LORD heard when you wailed. . . You will eat meat. . . You will not eat it for just one day, or two days, or five, ten or twenty days, but for a whole month—until it comes out of your nostrils and you loathe it."

Moses, being the human he is, basically said, "Yeah, okay. Whatever. You couldn't feed meat to all these people if you killed every sheep they had."

*Laura shakes her head in pity for Moses*

God responds with something I can never forget. Instead of sand blasting Moses' face off, He simply answers with a question followed by a statement. He says, "Is the LORD's arm too short? You will now see whether or not what I say will come true for you."

How can I come before the Being who thought up the universe, and think He can't or won't change me? God, show me up. Your arm is not too short.