Pride lands you flat on your face; humility prepares you for honors. Proverbs 29:25 (MSG)
While on my way back home from the grocery store one of my closest friends called. We hadn’t talked in almost three weeks so I certainly welcomed the opportunity to catch up. I’m not sure what Sharon said but within 30 seconds of our initial hello, I found myself exclaiming “I’m a fairly intelligent woman surely I can do something more productive than be a crossing guard!” My voice broke as the tears streamed down my face.
Fast forward two hours and now I’m at my post for my afternoon crossing guard shift. A young mom on her way to the school walks by and comments about how nice it is that I have some shade to stand in as I wait on the students to be dismissed from school. I tell her I probably wouldn’t be standing there if not for the shade (not true, I wouldn’t have a choice). Then she asks if I get paid or am I a volunteer? My immediate response—“I get paid, I have a college education, this is just an in between jobs thing.” In that moment, like a voice over the loud speaker of my soul, the Holy Spirit said, “you have an issue with pride; you’ve asked why you are still in this job and why you haven’t felt released from it—learn your lesson and you may move on.”
Pride issues? Me? But I tend to struggle with such a sense of inadequacy, how could I have issues with pride? The answer—it’s very easy. I began to pray asking the Lord to reveal the lesson(s) He wanted me to learn. As the next few days unfolded, I found myself on a journey back in time. The Holy Spirit reminded me of three distinct vignettes, three snapshots of occasions when I felt inferior. I was confused about the process at first but as the days went by the reasoning behind His approach became clear.
As an only child living on a farm, my world was very small. I had my parents, my pets and my make-believe friends. I usually saw other family members two to three times a month and other than that, I did not play with other children and rarely interacted with anyone else. I was (still am) a dreamer; extremely sensitive and it took only a stern look to cause me to obey or withdraw. I remember even as a small child desiring to please my parents and anyone in authority for that matter, I felt a huge responsibility to not disappointment them. Clearly, I was sheltered, practically isolated, for the first six years of my life. However, that all changed when I started school and that’s where the Holy Spirit began our journey together. He stopped the rewind button and hit play starting here…
First grade was a traumatic year on many levels but the most severe was the fact I was sick the entire year. Having rarely interacted with other children up to that point I was susceptible to every cold germ and was absent at least one or two days a week. Not a great start. Back then, removing a child’s tonsils was the normal remedy so I had my tonsils removed between first and second grade. The good news was that seemed to alleviate the constant illness, the bad news, I began getting a little chunky—more on this topic a little later.
Even though I was absent so much in first grade I was promoted to the second grade. I don’t remember much about the second grade except for my reading class. The reason I remember it is because this is the first time I recall feeling inferior. Even though I had a love for books and can remember sitting down with the dictionary just to read through the words and definitions (yes I was weird) I apparently did not meet certain second grade reading standards. At the beginning of the year, the teacher divided the class into three distinct groups. The “A” group which consisted of the best readers in our class, the “B” group was for good readers and the “C” group was for those deemed the slowest readers of the class. Any guesses as to which group I was slotted into? You got it—the C group. Do I think this was a deliberate attempt by my teacher to make those of us in the C group feel inferior? Of course not, but as a seven year old sitting there in the back of that dingy auditorium at the table with my C group companions I felt less than for the first time. I inwardly vowed to never be classified as a slow or inferior reader again. Fortunately, in time, I did overcome my apparent reading deficiency. But little did I know that yet another personal imperfection would be brought to my attention. It was just a simple statement but it packed a punch that I still struggle with today.
Remember earlier how I said after my tonsils were removed I started gaining some weight? Well after being so ill for almost a year, I needed to gain some weight but I did get a little heavy. I was the girl who had to walk past the racks of clothing made for regular sized girls and look for the clothing labeled husky. I was the only Campfire Girl in my group with a skirt that was well below her knees because I needed one big enough to go around my waist so of course it was much longer than the other girls’ skirts. I knew I was heavy compared to most of the girls my age; however, I don’t recall ever seeing myself as fat or unattractive during that time but that was about to change forever.
It was sixth grade and we were at recess. There were four or five of us including my cousin, Jimmy. I can still see exactly where we were and 45+ years later, I could take you to that exact spot today. I have no idea what was being discussed but at one point, Jimmy, whom I adored, looked at me and said “you’re fat.” Everyone chuckled and I stood there stunned. I couldn’t believe someone whom I cared about so much had said something so hurtful. I was crushed and embarrassed. That day a seed was planted and a few years later it took root. All through my teen years I suffered with a serious eating disorder. At fourteen, I was 5 feet 5 inches tall and weighed 101 pounds. I received lots of compliments on my appearance and, most importantly, I knew I had my mother’s approval concerning my weight because now she loved to take me shopping for cute, size 5 jeans. I was so determined not to gain even a pound I would stay up and exercise every night until the scale said I weighed no more than 102 pounds. It didn’t matter how late I had to stay up exercising. I would not go to bed until I was confident the bathroom scale would read no more than 101 (and preferably less) the next morning. I vowed to never be heavy again; no one would ever look at me and say I’m fat.
High school proved to be one of the most difficult seasons of my life. My dad had died, my mother had remarried an alcoholic and my life had been catapulted in directions I was ill-prepared to navigate. Enter my high school boyfriend.
Dating in high school is an exciting journey most teenagers look forward to experiencing and I was no exception. So when one of the most popular boys in our class asked me on a date I was thrilled. For the first several months we dated we really enjoyed each other’s company and after a while we didn’t really hang out with other friends anymore. Little by little our relationship became very exclusive and dangerous. I was vulnerable, he was cruel. The abuse began very slowly and at first there were always pleas for forgiveness and promises of change. Then there was just abuse, verbal at first, then physical. There came a point when he no longer asked for forgiveness and I knew there would never be any change. By the grace of God I finally after 10 years, found the courage to walk away physically and emotionally and stay away. I was just a shell of a person. My self-esteem was fractured. I was scarred emotionally and physically. I vowed to never allow anyone to rob me of my dignity again.
At this lowest point in my life, Christ met where I was and began the healing process in me. And a process it was (and still is). The walls I had erected around myself emotionally were thick but ironically, I had no real sense of personal boundaries. A deep sense of inadequacy and desperation had become so ordinary I wore them like a comfy sweater. My life was off-balance and I teetered on the brink of self-destruction. It took years and many tears but the Lord was faithful through each tiny step I took toward Him. He showed me I was a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17); I was acceptable in His sight (Romans 15:7); and I learned to accept His grace and see myself as worthy of being loved and most importantly, I was worthy of His love and forgiveness.
So you may be asking, “okay, what does all this have to do with the pride thing and what’s the lesson?” I’m glad you asked. I believe the lesson I needed to learn and maybe it applies to you also, is although I thought I had accepted the transformation of my mind (Romans 12:2) in this area, I had not. Yes, I have allowed the Lord to do a work in my life concerning how I see or define my self-worth but there was still work to do; a layer to shed light on. I believe the Holy Spirit revealed my issue isn’t that I still define myself as inferior or inadequate—I have found freedom through Him for that—but rather, I worry others may label me that way. Bingo!
This may seem like a small detail to you but it was a personal revelation for me. I’ve had to admit to myself and the Lord that deep down I’ve clung to a need to “stand up” for myself if I perceived someone might consider me unintelligent, i.e.—inferior. In an attempt to sidestep my pride issue I had become very good at re-labeling it with words like self-respect, self-worth and self-confidence—note they all begin with “self” and left unchecked, all are just a fine line away from self-importance.
The ultimate lesson learned: the Lord esteems those who are humble and contrite in spirit (Isa 66:2). God honors our humility. He wants our focus to be on Him; allowing Him to tell us who we are—not the world. As long as I keep my focus on the Lord I won’t have the time or the inclination to focus on what others may think. My confidence is found in Him not my own intelligence, appearance or in the acceptance of others. Pride says stand up but my Heavenly Father says take a knee…He’s in control—yesterday, today and tomorrow. Amen.
C. Deni Johnson
Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you are upset or just plain angry and instead of choosing to stay quiet you choose to express your dissatisfaction quite boldly? You are conscious of what’s coming out of your mouth and know you need to just shut up but the faucet is turned on full throttle and the emotion is pouring out and filling up the room. I hate it when I do that! In those moments I guess I convince myself my words are justified and therefore acceptable. They aren’t.
Right Hand Ministries 