I’ve never been a fan of pie.
On occasion I’ll enjoy a bit of brownie pie, or possibly another kind
(provided someone has taken the time to make it and therefore I should politely
partake), but overall I just don’t like pie.
Sorry.
But as much as I dislike the baked good that you consume,
there’s another type of pie that’s even harder to eat: humble pie.
Eating humble pie is never fun, yet we continuously must
subject ourselves to being spoon-fed our lessons.
When we live every day with more than enough time on our
hands, not being able to make plans or leave home, with the people we love the
most yet generally treat the worse, the teabag of our hearts seeps into the mug
and leaves a very strong flavor.
I’m convinced that if it wasn’t for Christ’s work and the
Holy Spirit’s influence upon my life, I would have given up long ago. Living with others may be difficult, but
living with myself is misery.
I’ve found that 4 days of isolation does it for me, then the
monster beneath the surface rears its ugly head. Maybe that happens every day to an extent,
but after 4 days I’m quite close to—as a friend put it—“hulking out.” Though I try, my flesh is the monster I
simply cannot escape. Without fail, I’m
left feeling rotten.
Despite my feeble attempts to change, to avoid pain, and to
hide from critical eyes, humility chases me.
If there’s any godly characteristic my flesh absolutely hates, its
humility. I often wish I could spend my
life in a closed room so I wouldn’t have to show my face and get slapped with
reminders of my pride and inadequacy. If
I went into hiding, I would never struggle with pride, right? News flash: the entire world is in hiding,
and the struggle is still real.
Being a graduate this year was tough. I’ve been waiting for this milestone for
years. I remember distinctly thinking in
5th grade, I’m not even
halfway done. I’ll NEVER finish! And then when I finally reached the finish
line, I was faced with quarantine, social distancing, silence, isolation, and
an abundance of time. I woke up my first
morning graduated and didn’t know what to do with myself. The freedom I expected to taste was not as
sweet as it always sounded. It didn’t
take me long to focus in on the negative and start a pity-party.
Despite having introverted tendencies (believe it or not), I
love people and I find a great joy in ministry opportunities. I always thought that after graduation I
would be able to turn all of my energies to ministry, but then half of those
ministries crumbled because social restrictions inhibits our ability to
gather. Because of this, I have
struggled majorly with finding purpose in life.
If I wasn’t already sunk in a hole of worthlessness, this did it.
Pondering my seemingly-empty life quickly spiraled into
bitterness, hurt, frustration, and other feisty emotions. I started scrutinizing my relationships so
closely, it was as if every flaw stuck out.
I began to think I was the only person trying to be kind.
After a hard week of criticizing every little word or action,
truth broke through the surface: it’s
not about me. Such a simple phrase,
but a powerful one to live by. What I thought I was doing was realistically
evaluating my relationships and seeing what I was doing wrong so I could fix
it. What I was really doing was pitying myself and getting grumpy because I wasn’t
getting the attention or appreciation I wanted.
Ouch.
Realizing my error was difficult, as it always is. Wouldn’t it just be better if I could just
magically turn humble? Why must I go
through this tedious, painful process?
As tough as it is to admit, the truth is, God doesn’t intend
for us to gain humility overnight. He
gave us the Holy Spirit, who patiently walks us down a path of
sanctification. The path is narrow, and
we slip often. It’s not an easy journey;
it’s not supposed to be. Becoming more
like Christ is a process that uses pain and humiliation as sculpting
tools.
Nothing good can come about instantaneously; there are many
pieces to a puzzle. Sanctification is
the same way. Sanctification is a
process that spans over a lifetime and will only complete when we cross the
threshold of heaven.
This past week I slipped a lot on my pathway to sanctification. Faithfully, the Good Shepherd brought me
back, and the Holy Spirit taught me lessons I sorely needed to learn.
If humility leads to sanctification, then I’ll gladly eat
that humble pie!
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