My name is Jordan, and I have a pride issue. I’m glad I got that out there. It feels good. I’m going to keep at this. I get too big for my britches, I think I’m better than I am, and I feel like I deserve what I have much more than I would ever care to admit. I’m working on that. Pray for me.
Yesterday I had an opportunity to chat with a friend of mine about pride, and we studied Luke 18: 9 – 14. The scripture is a parable about a Pharisee and a tax collector. Essentially, the Pharisee is an arrogant, self-righteous, boasting dirtball (my words), who walks around with a sense of entitlement and thinks he deserves God’s grace and mercy.
The tax collector is a humble servant who doesn’t even feel he is fit to be anywhere near the altar in the temple. He realizes he’s soaked in sin, and he asks the Lord for mercy because he knows he’s unworthy of anything God gives him.
Who are you in that parable? Me—I’m the Pharisee. I’m sorry if you were expecting a different answer. I let things go to my head faster than you can say “Pharisee.” It’s disgusting. It’s shameful. It’s something I pray about daily.
Some people might not notice my pride, others might see that at times I’ve got a bigger head than Stewie from Family Guy. This post is by no means meant to illicit “I know people way more prideful than you” responses. I’m not comparing myself to them—that’s not where my standard is set.
John Calvin makes an eloquent analogy in The Institutes of the Christian Religion. Calvin says that when we compare ourselves to things on this earth, when we are looking down at this terrestrial place, we’re pretty pleased with our “own righteousness, wisdom and virtue; we address ourselves in the most flattering terms.” It’s true—when we set our eyes on the earth, it’s easy to become prideful—we’re comparing to something below us, something that can be attained.
Calvin finishes the analogy by saying when we look at the sun, everything here on earth looks dim. The earth “is instantly so dazzled and confounded” when comparing it to the effects of looking at the sun. If we look to God and compare ourselves to Him, it is infinitely more difficult to become prideful.
We’re nothing compared to Him. He makes the sun rise in the morning. I can’t make myself rise in the morning. He’s perfect in every way. I’m imperfect in everything I do outside of Him. He created E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. I can’t create an omelet.
We humans are innately prideful; we’re born into it, and it’s not easy to shake. We must stop looking to the earth and set our eyes above. We must look to the Lord and humble ourselves like the tax collector.
I can’t do it alone. I pray for humility daily. It’s the first thing I say when people ask, “What can I pray for you about?” So I’m asking a favor of you. Call. Me. Out. Don’t ever let me be prideful in any venue—on the Interwebs or in person. Humble me. Knock me down. Ask me, “Is that what Jesus would do or say?” Don’t let me get away for even a gleaming second of arrogance. I’m looking for humility at all costs—no holds barred.
Remember Luke 18:14: “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Finally, ask yourself, “Am I the tax collector or the Pharisee?” If you’re the Pharisee, what are you going to do about it? If you’re the tax collector, are you sure?