Humility. This is one of those character traits that’s hard to explain, but we know it when we see it. And we are drawn to people who embody it: the kind stranger, the patient great aunt who listens to our stories, the friend who is so steady no matter her lot in life—in the ditch or on a mountaintop.
Humility is NOT a posture of “I am worth nothing;” nor is it an acetic way of denying everything that is good, true, and beautiful to live a “lower-than-others” life. I prefer the definition of humility as, “a lack of pride; a right understanding of our place in the world.”
We are made in the image of God—the Imago Dei—this is powerful stuff. Just those phrases, if we let them seep into our bones and life, could lean us in the direction of pride. But they are meant to do the exact opposite.
We ARE made in his image, but we are NOT him. There was a funny t-shirt in the 1980’s that said, “There is a God and you are not Him.”
But on this side of the garden, we sometimes ACT like we are equal with God (think about all of us with control issues!). Guilt, manipulation, silent treatments, all these end up in our toolboxes to pull out and use in our human relationships. Unfortunately, all these tools are housed in the toolbox of pride: I am in charge of my own life (and yours) and stem from a dissatisfaction with what is (or is not) happening, what we do not have and can’t get, or what others are experiencing that we think we deserve. (sidebar: our discontentment usually stems from one of those three aforementioned things and leads us over and over to the well of comparison, covetousness, and despair)
Prideful people have hearts that are ungrateful—and conversely, humble humans are some of the most thankful people on the planet. When we walk in humility, we not only see the wonder around us, but we are full of gratitude for a beautiful sunset or cantata or sculpture. We are thankful for our lungs and laughter, lunchables and Looney Tunes. The posture of humility fosters a grateful heart and bears good fruit in a person’s life. It lets people go first in kickball, doesn’t get mad at being cut off in traffic, and certainly doesn’t call people names. The posture of humility allows us to slow down, see the cashier, hear the exhaustion in the struggling mom’s voice…and be kind.
Stop and think: those people in my life who exhibit joy and peace and patience are usually the most humble, NOT full of themselves. We are all a mix of humility and pride.
[For full disclosure: I came from a family whose maternal mantra was (is): if you want it done right, do it my way. These are hard things to shake off and grow out of. (“But what if I really DO know the best way to do things…always? Or in the words of the poet Taylor Swift, “So tell me everything is not about me…but what if it is?”]
This Christmas season, we’ll hear about the humiliation of Christ—that he left heaven, took on human flesh in the form of a baby, was born in a humble stable in Bethlehem…”and did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped…but humbled himself…” (Philippians). Sometimes in our adult hearts, the incarnation can be relegated to a children’s Christmas story. But in reality, it is the powerful, omniscient God of the universe coming down in frail humanity. Humbly. Lying in a manger, learning the Torah, practicing his father’s woodworking trade…and humbly teaching and preaching for three years, only to be betrayed and flayed and killed. On our behalf.
Jesus was humble. I am not. Jesus learned gratitude and obedience and virtue from his parents. We are not victims of our circumstances. May we measure our words this Christmas. May we slow down long enough to savor what’s REALLY going on in that manger. May we ask God to give us thankful, humble hearts and a willingness to serve Him all our days.
