Pride and humility
If I were to ask you to define humility, what would you say?
Here is my instinct: Belittle myself. Hide myself. Do not demand my gifts and contributions be recognized. Be okay if I am overlooked in favor of people less gifted. Don’t be resentful if I’m used and misused and taken for granted.
Years ago, when I laid out this definition of humility for my spiritual director, she blinked, startled. “I’ve always defined humility as ‘recognizing and being open and honest about my strengths and weaknesses,’ “ she said.
My reaction? “One: what planet are you from? Two: that sounds lovely, but also, it sounds like giving myself permission to be prideful.”
(Which, I note, is a scrupulous reaction.)
Over time, this definition has grown on me. Originally, I was hung up on giving myself permission to acknowledge my strengths. But that’s only half the picture. It’s about being frank and honest about where you excel, AND where you fall short.
This makes a ton of sense. That whole Gospel passage about the lamp on the hill, the yeast in the mix, the salt… God didn’t give us gifts to be suppressed and belittled. He gave them to us to be USED. And if structures or individuals are pushing us down, placing obstacles in front of expressing those gifts, given by God for the good of the world, then standing up for yourself is a Godly thing, not a case of self-aggrandizement.
It’s still hard for me to move beyond a theoretical approval of this definition and into applying it concretely to myself. But… baby steps, right?
However, in recent months I’ve come to recognize that (as in most things in the world) there’s an asterisk on this definition.
Not long ago, through series of circumstances that would take too long to lay out, it became abundantly clear that some of my gifts are going unrecognized in a particular space I inhabit. I got pretty hot about it.
But after gnashing my teeth for a few weeks, I bumped into an opportunity where my gifts WERE being appreciated. And I pretty quickly realized that it would take almost nothing for me to slip into pride and make the whole thing about me instead of the ministry.
This was a good reality check. Yes, there is a particular set of people who do not know what I have to offer. Yes, I am justified in trying to make my abilities known. On the other hand, doing my work well yet mostly under the radar is okay, too. Under the radar, I can serve without the temptation to pride. It keeps me in balance.
And I’m beginning to suspect that balance is what humility is really all about.