pride - a personal reflection

There's been great fuel for pride in my life recently. I led a couple of seminars during the last month, and they were received beyond my hopes and expectations. You know the kind of thing: glowing recommendations, people telling me how I'd affected them (or, hopefully, how God's word affected them!), and invitations to more teaching opportunities. Humanly speaking, it was a dream come true.

I went for a walk and prayed the other morning. I wept. I sat on my rock (actually, it was a neighbouring rock!) and poured out my heart to God. I could feel pride and selfish ambition creeping up on me, and I was determined to stand against them.

I sat and reflected on my insignificance. God doesn't need me. He can further his kingdom without my help. He can raise up the people he wants, when and where he wants. When I've gone to be with my Lord, others will take my place. How gloriously superfluous I am!

We are none of us necessary. Or look at it another way: we are all equally necessary to one another. No fingers boasting over toes in this body!

The eye cannot say to the hand, "I don't need you!" And the head cannot say to the feet, "I don't need you!" On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honourable we treat with special honour. ... Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it. 1 Cor 12:12-27

My tears of repentance were replaced with tears of wonder and joy, as I thought about God's unshakeable plan to glorify his Son (Eph 1:3-14): a plan that he graciously involves me in, but which doesn't need me in it.

I said to God, "I am yours. You may take it all away tomorrow, and that is okay, your kingdom will go forward. You may choose for me an obscure life serving a sick husband or a disabled child, and that is okay, your kingdom will go forward. I may die tomorrow, and that is okay (no, that is best!) and your kingdom will go forward."

You'll sometimes hear people say, "It's not about you". They're right. It's not about me. It's about God and his glory.

If God chooses to use me to further his kingdom, I will praise him. If he chooses to use someone else to further his kingdom, I will praise him. For "neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow" (1 Cor 3:7).

John Milton on Satan's pride and fall

These are the words of Satan to his lieutenant Beelzebub after being cast out of heaven, as imagined by John Milton in Paradise Lost. They describe the essence of pride at its first beginning, handed down to all of us who know what it is to be proud.

What though the field be lost?
All is not lost—the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power
Who, from the terror of this arm, so late
Doubted his empire—that were low indeed;
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall ...

Farewell happy Fields
Where Joy for ever dwells: Hail horrors, hail
Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings
A mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time.
The mind is its own place, and in it self
Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less then he
Whom Thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.

pride (4) a short history of pride

Pride: to seek for yourself the glory and authority that belong to God, forgetting your dependence on him.*

If this is pride, then before humans were made, there was pride. Satan and his cohorts, bright and glorious angels, raised themselves against God, seeking his glory and power for themselves. They were cast out of heaven into the depths of hell (2 Pet 2:4, Jude 6 cf Isa 14:3-23, Ezek 28:1-19). But the fruit of devilish wisdom is still pride.

If this is pride, then the first sin on earth involved pride. Why did Adam and Eve rebel against God? Because the serpent promised they would become "like God" (Gen 3:4). They doubted God's true word, threw off his rightful authority, and set themselves up as mini-gods, masters of their own destiny. God ripped away their immortality by throwing them from the garden (Gen 3). But we still bear the proud likeness of our father Adam (Rom 5:12-21).

If this is pride, then it’s the main characteristic of humans when they get together. The Tower of Babel was supposed to be a grand monument to human achievement, built "so that we may make a name for ourselves" (Gen 11:4). God, of course, stepped in and showed just how much bigger he is than puny humanity: he scattered humans to the four corners of the earth, separated by different languages and cultures (Gen 11:1-9).

If this is pride, then it fuels all opposition to God and his people. Through the Bible there's a line of kings, obsessed by power and wealth, who want to throw off God’s rule and turn themselves into gods, to be worshipped and obeyed (Isa 14:3-23, Ezek 28:1-19): Pharaoh (Exod 5-15, 9:29-30), Nebuchadnezzar (Dan 3-4), Sennacherib (Isa 36-37), Herod (Ac 12:19b-25). God laughs and scoffs at them, for they are puppets in his hands, to be raised up or cast down as he sees fit (Ps 2, 37, 73).

If this is pride, then it lies behind all the long history of God's people. Raised up from a single wandering herdsman (Gen 17), the smallest and most insignificant of nations (Deut 7:7-8), like a woman lying in her filth and chosen to be God’s bride (Ezek 16): there’s no reason for pride here. But God’s people continually become puffed up by their God-given blessings: they forget what God has done for them, turn to more easily manipulated gods, and refuse to submit to God’s word. He brings them low, they repent, he raises them up, and the cycle starts again (Neh 9).

If this is pride, then we are still guilty of it. Every time we try to earn God's grace, or doubt his love because we haven't lived up to it (Rom 4:2, 10:1-4, Eph 4:9). Every time we're motivated by envy and selfish ambition (Phil 2:3, Jam 3:14-16). Every time we quarrel (Prov 13:10, 1 Tim 6:3-5), show favouritism (Jam 2:1-12), oppress the weak (Isa 13:11, Ps 10:2, Ezek 16:49), or boast (1 Jn 2:16, Jude 16). Every time we become secure in our wisdom, beauty, wealth, or strength, and forget we are like wild flowers, here today and gone tomorrow (Jer 9:23-24, 1 Tim 6:17, Jam 1:9-11).

If this is pride, then it is time to humble ourselves before the Lord, for we are all guilty of pride. It is time to grieve, mourn and wail, to acknowledge our need for God's grace, and to seek his forgiveness, knowing that he is the one who opposes the proud and gives grace to the humble (Jam 4:1-10).

If this is pride.

* I took this definition from verses like Deut 8:14, 2 Chron 25:19, 32:25, 2 Kgs 19:22, Ps 10:4, Isa 37:23, Jer 9:23-24, 13:15, 17, Hos 13:6, and Neh 9:16, 29.

If you want to read more about the history of pride, you can view John Stott's excellent article "Pride, Humility and God" from Alive to God: Studies in Spirituality online at Google Books.

Images of statues are from stock.xchng; fresco of Adam and Eve is by Masaccio's fresco in the Santa Maria del Carmini church in Florence, Italy; "Tower of Babel" woodcut is by MC Escher; Israel poster is available from All Posters.

CJ Mahaney on pride

Why does God hate pride so passionately?

Here's why: Pride is when sinful human beings aspire to the status and position of God and refuse to acknowledge their dependence upon Him.

Charles Bridges once noted how pride lifts up one's heart against God and "contends for supremacy" with Him. ...

For purposes of personal confession, I began adopting this definition of pride a few years ago after I came to realize that, to some degree, I'd grown unaffected by pride in my life. Though I was still confessing pride, I knew I wasn't sufficiently convicted of it. So rather than just confessing to God that "I was proud in that situation" ... I learned to say instead, "Lord, in that moment, with that attitude and that action, I was contending for supremacy with You. That's what it was all about. Forgive me." ... This practice increased a weight of conviction in my heart about the seriousness of this sin.

Pride takes innumerable forms but has only one end: self-glorification. That's the motive and ultimate purpose of pride - to rob God of legitimate glory and to pursue self-glorification, contending for supremacy with Him. The proud person seeks to glorify himself and not God, thereby attempting in effect to deprive God of something only He is worthy to receive.

No wonder God opposes pride. No wonder he hates pride. Let that truth sink into your thinking.

From CJ Mahaney Humility: True Greatness 30-31, emphasis in original.

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pride (3) this welcome pain

Long ago, in the distant days when I had no children, I burnt my hand quite badly. I was at a campsite with one of those iron wood-burning heaters that stands away from the wall, and in a moment of absent-mindedness, I rested my hand on top of it. I grabbed a jug of cold water and plunged my hand into it, holding it there for half an hour or more. It didn’t do much to ease the pain.

When I went to bed that night, my hand was still throbbing. I lay there and tried to ignore the pain, coming and going, coming and going, but it was impossible. Until I decided that instead of resisting the pain, I was going to accept it. Oddly enough, this made it easier to bear. As each wave of pain came, instead of gritting my teeth, I let it flow through me. I fell asleep.

Growing more like Jesus hurts. God’s fatherly discipline is not pleasant, but painful (Heb 12:7-10). Perseverance, character and hope come only through suffering (Romans 5:3-4). The trials which refine our faith bring grief (1 Pet 1:3-9). The suffering which makes us more like Christ is real.

I’m learning that there are two ways to react to the pain of growing in Christ. You can thrust the pain away quickly, like an over-hot saucepan, or you can hold it firmly to yourself, like a sword spitting sparks on a grindstone. If you do the first, you’ll escape with minor burns, but they’ll persist for days, throbbing and ugly. If you do the second, you’ll be sharpened like a sword, made fit and useful for the service of the King.

So it is with the pain which God uses to help us grow: you can push it away, or endure it patiently and even with joy, knowing that suffering makes you more like Christ.

Here’s what I wrote to a friend in the first weeks after God showed me the ugliness of my pride:

God opening this area of sin to me was a thoroughly unpleasant shock at first, and my first instinct was to run and hide! But I want to welcome rather than to run from this struggle and pain, … for it’s how God is growing me in unexpected ways - opening up areas of sin I was completely oblivious too, humbling me, helping me to accept and even welcome criticism, helping me to serve others more self-forgetfully. A slow battle and a long one, but worth it, because it’s God who works in me! And so wisely and gently (although it feels like the surgeon’s knife) for he knows exactly how much and what kind of fatherly discipline I need, and leavens it with encouragement.

You won’t accept the pain of Christian growth unless you truly hate the sin. Why would someone who doesn’t see the full danger of a cancer submit themselves to the surgeon’s knife? But if God shows you the ugliness of your sin - whether it's pride, bitterness, self-pity, or greed - you’ll be only too glad to submit yourself to his painful discipline.

I have looked my pride full in the face, and seen its ugliness. CJ Mahaney calls it "cosmic plagiarism", stealing God's glory for myself. I hate it. I'm disgusted by it. I'd do just about anything to get rid of it. And so, instead of running from the painful failures which strip away my pride, I find myself welcoming them.

If someone touches your arm with something which burns you, the natural reaction is to pull away. But if they're a doctor, and they are cauterising a wound or burning away a growth, you'll hold your arm still. It won't hurt any less, but you'll gladly endure the pain, because it brings healing.

Oddly enough, as I view the pain differently, I feel it differently. Instead of something repellent, festering, unpleasant, it becomes clean, sharp, wholesome. It still hurts. But I welcome each wave of pain, knowing the humility it's producing in me.

Like gold purified in a crucible - like a tree pruned to make it more fruitful – like a lance to a boil - like a sword sharpened against a stone - like the pain of childbirth - like sand at the heart of a pearl - I hold this pain close. This is a pain I want. This is a pain I need.

It’s there to teach me something: about my sin, about my unbelief, about my heart. About God’s truth, which is so much bigger than my wrong beliefs. About how small I am, how insignificant peoples’ treatment of me. About how much I still need God's grace. It's there to grow Christ in me.

I'm starting to understand why Paul rejoiced in his suffering, which protected him from pride, and magnified God's power and grace:

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor 12:7-10)

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The Shepherd Song

The Valley of Humiliation (humility) is a place of terror for those who are proud. But the Valley bears another, smiling face for the humble in heart. In this green vale Jesus spent his days, the gentle pilgrim Mercy rejoices to tread, and the poor and lowly gladly dwell. Here the shepherd boy sings his famous words:

He that is down needs fear no fall;
He that is low, no pride:
He that is humble, ever shall
Have God to be his guide.

I am content with what I have,
Little be it or much:
And, Lord, contentment still I crave,
Because thou savest such.

Fullness to such a burden is
That go on pilgrimage:
Here little, and hereafter bliss,
Is best from age to age.

from John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress Part II

image is from Flickr

pride (2) the Valley of Humiliation

In my first post on pride, I told you how God used a series of reminders about pride to get my attention, and then a series of ministry failures to confront me with my pride. In today's post I'd like to talk about the link between suffering and humility.

Until late last year, I couldn’t understood what valleys have to do with pride.

I sang these words with no awareness of how deeply I needed a valley:

When You lead me to the Valley of Vision
I can see You in the heights
And though my humbling wouldn’t be my decision
It’s here Your glory shines so bright
So let me learn that the cross precedes the crown
To be low is to be high
That the Valley’s where You make me more like Christ.
In the Valley

I looked at Cathy’s blog: "It is never comfortable circumstances that teach us humility. It is the painful and disappointing things." Huh? I still wasn't getting it.

I read Pilgrim's Progress and watched Christian, so eager to prove himself better than his fellow pilgrims, stumble down into the Valley of Humiliation (Humility). But it was only on my second or third reading that I noticed it was pride which made the Valley such a dreadful place for him. In the Valley he comes to Forgetful Green, forgets where his gifts and graces come from, and is forced to fight demonic Apollyon. The Valley brings him face to face with his pride.

The Valley of Humiliation is a picture of those times in our lives when circumstances like illness, poverty, or failure bring us low. There are two ways to react to the Valley: the meek enjoy sweet communion with God here, but the proud find it to be a place of terror. The Valley divides people. It shows us who we are. It brings joy to the humble, and humbles the proud.

What's the connection between suffering and humility? As long as things are going well for me - as long as I am wealthy, powerful, intelligent, beautiful, respected, healthy, outwardly godly, or successful - it becomes terrifyingly easy for me to forget God and his grace, and to become smug and self-confident.

We don't even realise we're doing it. But gradually, we stop depending on God in prayer, we become subtly critical of others, and we take our privileges for granted. We accept praise for our achievements with an assumed humility so carefully judged that we fool even ourselves.

It takes suffering to tear the mask away. Failure reveals our dependence on success and praise. Depression shows we're not quite as well-adjusted as we've always assumed. Sorrow shatters our smug self-reliance. Poverty exposes our helplessness. A long struggle with a besetting sin teaches us our need for grace. Such experiences drive home the lesson that I can't make it on my own, that I'm not strong enough, that I'm dependent on Another.

Only those who are proud need fear a fall. For God "opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble" (Jam 4:6).

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pride (1) God gets my attention

When God can't get your attention through quiet whispers, sometimes he takes up a hammer. With precisely placed blows - a Bible passage, a friend's words, a magazine picked up and glanced at - he drives the point home. And when that’s not enough, he wields the sledge hammer of painful experience.

It gradually dawned on me late last year that the same word was popping up everywhere, as unmissable as those huge red-on-yellow billboards shouting “SEX!” beside the freeway. Except all my signposts were reading “pride”.

I read Pilgrim's Progress and watched Christian stumble because of his pride. I flicked through The Briefing and discovered a review of CJ Mahaney's Humility: True Greatness. I clicked on Cathy's blog and read words which laid my heart bare: "My bitter jealousy and selfish ambition are shown when other Christian women get a 'ministry opportunity' that I don't."

As if God knew this relentless repetition wouldn't be enough, a series of painful failures showed me the full ugliness of my pride. Like a surgeon who knows exactly where to cut, God relentlessly plunged his scalpel in just as far as it needed to go.

I’ve struggled with pride before. When I was young and confident of my godliness, I prayed a dangerous prayer: “Lord, teach me humility”. What followed was a drawn-out battle with sin which undermined my self-satisfaction. I vowed never to pray for humility again.

But God still hadn’t dealt with my pride in achievement.

It's not surprising that success matters to me. I lapped up the praise of loving parents, I went to a high-achieving private school, and I chose a prestigious uni course. On the first day, our lecturer called us “the cream of society”. (I transferred to Arts soon afterwards, but that’s another story!) No wonder that I expect to succeed. It's pretty ugly when you write it down, isn't it?

The ugliness wasn't apparent to me. When you’re succeeding you can fool even yourself with your assumed humility. You accept praise with just the right measure of self-deprecating gratitude. You feel oh, so humbly grateful for the gifts God has given you.

It took a series of failures, in a ministry I expected to succeed in, to reveal myself to me. Each one felt like a kick in the stomach. Horrified at the strength of my emotions, I prayed the prayer I vowed never to pray again: “Lord, teach me humility”.

One final painful and petty experience of failure, coming just in time for Christmas, and it was as if God prised opened a manhole into my heart, and I could see the pride within, like a festering black pit seething with worms.

God spares us this view of our sin most of the time. But occasionally he shows us the way he sees our hearts. God has made his views on pride very clear: "The LORD detests all the proud at heart" (Prov 16:5).

Thank God that, although my sin is greater than I will ever know, his grace is greater still.

This is the first in a series on what God has been teaching me about pride. Next time, I'd like to talk about the connection between humility and suffering.

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