I Am Proud

“Let not the wise boast of their wisdom or the strong boast of their strength or the rich boast of their riches, but let the one who boasts boast about this: that they have the understanding to know me, that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,” declares the LORD.

—Jeremiah 9:23–24

We call her Peanut. A term of endearment and evidence of her small stature. She’s a tiny slip of a girl, much smaller than the other eight-year-olds she calls her friends.

Don’t let her size fool you, however. She’s also a pistol. Full of spit and fire and blessed with an unyielding will. She bosses anything that breathes and assumes control of whatever room she enters.

Including mine. At least, she gives it a solid try.

“Peanut, I need you to go pick up your room, please.”

“No,” she shrugs, continuing to play, unmoved by my request.

“You also need to finish your homework before you go outside.”

“I don’t want to,” she announces with a lift of her chin as she walks out the front door.

I haul her stubborn self back inside, along with her stomping feet. She’s met her match in me. I’m equally independent, with an added three decades of practice. Let’s just say I’ve honed the craft. And I’m not going to let a forty-pound peanut hijack my well-ordered house. No matter her spit and fire.

One of the greatest gifts my dad gave me was a sense of independence. He never made me feel less than strong or able because of my femaleness. Dad forced me to stand on my own and take responsibility for my life. At times, these were hard lessons for a small girl to learn. As a woman, however, I understood their value. These skills serve me well to this day.

But independence also fostered something less attractive: stubborn pride. A determination to do things alone, without needing any outside help. To work hard and take control. To keep all details and decisions squarely in the palms of my own two hands.

This may benefit me up to a point, but unchecked pride eventually fosters nothing but isolation.

This is true for both human and spiritual relationships. From the beginning, we were wired for community. First and foremost with our Creator, second with each other. Even in the perfection of the garden, Adam and Eve required food for sustenance of the body and the presence of God for sustenance of the soul. From the moment of conception, we were marked as the created, not the Creator. We’re fully dependent on God for survival.

And yet how often we forget!

We are proud. Independent. Determined to control our days and destinies.

Only we can’t. And sooner or later this truth becomes harsh reality. Often it takes a tragedy or hardship we couldn’t predict or prevent to finally recognize the foolishness of our pride. When the doctor calls with bad news despite all the exercise we did and the organic food we ate. When our child gets kicked out of school despite our stellar parenting and our lectures about choices and consequences. When, despite our excellent money management, the housing market collapses.

What value is our pride and independence then?

Pride has plagued people from the beginning. Pride tempted Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. Pride led Adam, her husband, to follow suit and then blame her for doing so. It was pride that caused Cain to murder his brother Abel, pride that led David to murder his lover’s husband, pride that led even the wise Solomon to take for himself countless wives and mistresses. It causes us to ignore the twinge of conscience when we tread a dangerous line or refuse the lifegiving rebuke of a friend. Pride says, “No, I don’t want to,” or, “Leave me be, I can do this myself!”

Pride refuses counsel, denies leadership, ignores sovereignty. It demands its own way, regardless of the cost. And pride always costs far more than we imagine.

And yet humility—that awareness of our need and admission of dependency—comes with incredible reward:

Pride is a tough topic to face, and releasing it makes us feel like we might lose something of ourselves in the process. But the opposite is true. Humility sets us free, placing us at the mercy of a Father who loves us far more than we can imagine. We no longer have to have all the answers or walk through this life on our own.

The next time we’re tempted to lift our chin and march out the front door to take control of this one short life, let’s reconsider. We have a God whose wisdom has no limits and whose love knows no end. He has promised to lead us into a life we can’t imagine. We can do it our way, with our peanut-sized perspective, or we can do it His, with His eternal one.

Let’s choose the latter. The love and leadership of God can be trusted. Always.

If you have wealth, do not glory in it, nor in friends because they are powerful, but in God Who gives all things and Who desires above all to give Himself. Do not boast of personal stature or of physical beauty, qualities which are marred and destroyed by a little sickness. Do not take pride in your talent or ability, lest you displease God to Whom belongs all the natural gifts that you have.

—THOMAS Á KEMPIS, THE IMITATION OF CHRIST