William Jenkyn shares the simplest cure for pride:

“Our father was Adam, our grandfather dust, our great-grandfather, nothing.”

How easy is it to think only in the realm of humanity. Comparing ourselves and our work only to other people. The hierarchy of skills and accomplishments becomes potent. But step back only for a moment and look at the bigger picture and all the levels drop to zero.

We remember that we’re descendants of dust and that it’s only by God’s design and grace that we weren’t born squirrels or raccoons. Huge potential is at the end of our fingertips, but in the same way dust doesn’t accomplish anything itself—neither do we.

At least a couple of times during my first couple years as a Christian, my beliefs over certain theological things were shaken dramatically. I was forced to reassess my stance.  Both times that I can remember clearly, I resisted changing my belief because doing so would be a shot to my pride and I would have to own that.

Reading in Galatians this morning, it occurred to me that if anyone else had experienced this kind of thing, it was probably Paul. Galatians 1:22-23:

And I was still unknown in person to the churches of Judea that are in Christ. They only were hearing it said, "He who used to persecute us is now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy."

There’s a reason people use the term ‘Pauline Conversion’ when talking about people’s dramatic changes in opinion. It’s because scarcely was there ever a person who made a more spectacular 180 degree turn.

Paul was actually a violent opponent to the Gospel. After God struck him on the road, the greater portion of his theological belief was turned on its head. He stopped persecuting the church and instead, became a part of it and preached the Gospel with more vigor than nearly all of his contemporaries in the Church.

Thank God the Holy Spirit convicted him with the potency that he did and that he didn’t tarry, resisting the discovery of this truth, since he eventually became the author of most of the New Testament.

When our convictions are shaken and changed, we should not to give our pride space to stop us. If we discover we are mistaken in our belief, we should humbly accept that we were wrong and move into what we have discovered. Not like I have, sitting, resisting, insisting that somehow our original belief was right—just for the sake of saving face.

Has anyone delivered a compliment to you which you accepted and felt good about, yet simultaneously knew was simply inaccurate? I know that I have.

Matthew-Henry’s father, Philip (also a Puraitan) said this:

“Be as much troubled by unjust praises, as by unjust slanders.”

This is apt. When someone with a distaste for our personality speaks ill of us for no notable reason, we’re usually at least frustrated. But more likely angry. But, few people have such qualms about someone speaking highly of them when it’s undeserved. This is a real problem.

When someone slanders us without cause, we are broken down and our person is hurt. But, when someone builds us up with false information, God’s person is hurt. We accept praise on false grounds to bolster our pride, which inevitably robs God of glory which is due to him. This is much worse.

I try to correct people when they offer compliments on false pretenses. But I am guilty as well. I just wish I could be half as worked up about it as I am when I’m unfairly criticized.

In Psalm 9, David is praising God for protecting his people and overcoming his enemies. After Christ, however, we find that we are often our own enemies. So as I read, the final verse struck me in my own context. The verse reads like this:

“Arise, O LORD! Let not man prevail;
   let the nations be judged before you!
Put them in fear, O LORD!
   Let the nations know that they are but men! “

We live in a country of unprecedented privilege. Unprecedented resources. Unprecedented safety. And even us in the church struggle to remember that God is behind this. Not government, not family, not self—but God.

So, in my own mind, David’s prayer reads more like this.

“Arise, O LORD! Let us not prevail ourselves;
   thank you that Christ has taken the wrath of your judgment for me!
Put fear in me, O LORD!
  Let me know that I am but a man, and you are my God!”

1 Peter 3:15 is a verse most Christians are relatively familiar with. I’ve written about it too. But what I think Christians are less accustomed to hearing is the end of that verse and the verse that follows it.

1 Peter 3:15-16:

“…In your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame.”

It seems to me that many Christians are ready with an answer for the hope they have in Christ, but they’re not ready to give it with gentleness and respect. It seems more often to me that they are given in arrogance and impatience, as though their faith were something entirely of themselves.

Yet the fact of the matter is that if we have faith in Christ it is not because we are somehow superior to those who do not, but because we have received grace thus far to believe.

Of course, this bit in 1 Peter is written to people who would be slanderously accused for their faith and therefore a confident answer was important. And since the accusations would likely be very aggressive, obviously it was important to remind them that they shouldn’t respond with aggression, but with respect and gentleness.

Questions about our faith may not come with the same aggression today as it did then, but I think the exhortation to gentleness and respect stands as just as important.

Do you ever have times when you’re in a conversation with someone and you find yourself thinking about what you’re going to say next rather than what they’re actually saying? I know that I do sometimes. In spirited debate it’s a little more reasonable to do this kind of thing. After all, there is a sense of competition in debate.

But what about when someone is sharing something personal; do you ever zone out and think about all the great advice you’re going to give? Well, reading yesterday in Proverbs 18, I was immediately reminded of this. Verse 2:

A fool takes no pleasure in understanding,
   but only in expressing his opinion.

Then again in verse 13:

If one gives an answer before he hears,
   it is his folly and shame.

I’d like to be able to say that I don’t suffer from this tendency. But that would be a lie. Unfortunately I do. At least some of the time. But something I find especially interesting is the way Proverbs pitches the thought.

Sure, it’s not very loving to others to be constantly itching to hear your own voice and opinion. But that’s not really the angle it takes. It’s also bad for me on some other level entirely.

When I’m having a personal conversation with someone, it’s not only rude for me to zone out of what they’re saying to think of how I’ll respond, but in some way it also hurts me. Possibly by bolstering ego? Robbing the heart’s opportunity to empathize? Or simply allowing selfishness room to rule? I don’t know, it could be all kinds of things, I suppose.

But any way your look at it, Solomon is right and I don’t want to be a fool.

Haman was an aide to the king in the book of Esther. The King had honored Haman with power and authority, but when Mordecai, a Jew, wouldn’t recognize Haman, he was infuriated.

I find the language describing his pride, somewhat comical, but also a little uncomfortably familiar. Esther 5:9-13:

And Haman went out that day joyful and glad of heart. But when Haman saw Mordecai in the king’s gate, that he neither rose nor trembled before him, he was filled with wrath against Mordecai. Nevertheless, Haman restrained himself and went home, and he sent and brought his friends and his wife Zeresh. And Haman recounted to them the splendor of his riches, the number of his sons, all the promotions with which the king had honored him, and how he had advanced him above the officials and the servants of the king. Then Haman said, "Even Queen Esther let no one but me come with the king to the feast she prepared. And tomorrow also I am invited by her together with the king. Yet all this is worth nothing to me, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king’s gate."

Have you ever allowed something good to be ruined by a tiny detail? I definitely have. In fact, I have a tendency to only see the flaws in many of my situations. Often, all of the good I experience is for naught in lieu of a small imperfection.

I unhappily admit that while reading Haman’s story, he comes across quite silly. But then, I must look quite silly to God also.