Pride.

It’s an interesting phenomenon, and one that I’ve spent a good bit of time thinking about and wrestling with over the past few weeks.

In a lot of ways, I think studying about pride is somewhat like reading a nutrition textbook that says you should eat healthy food – it doesn’t really tell you anything you didn’t already know, but neither does it really help you out very much. Also, it isn’t very easy to be objective about pride in your own life, seeing as how if you knew you were being prideful, you would no doubt change what you were doing.

In addition, a certain amount of pride is often a healthy thing – being defined by Merriam-Webster as “a reasonable or justifiable self-respect”. There is a part of pride that causes us to feel a belonging to a certain group, or look rightly with favor on some particular thing we’ve accomplished.

It isn’t in fact pride, but rather hubris that is often condemnable. It was seen as a crime in ancient Athens, and was often the predecessor to the tragic fall in Greek tragedies.

When we say “pride” we usually mean either hubris or arrogance – both of which are rooted in an exaggerated sense of self importance. In the Christian sense, I think truly the most insidious danger for each of us is perpetuated by the lie we call “The American Dream” – that if you work hard enough and long enough you can accomplish anything. With that societal cry in our ears, we begin to trust and believe so highly in our own merit and ability that we leave little room for God’s grace, and even in a social vacuum without realizing it, we fall victim to the most serious sort of Christian pride – one that doesn’t involve others, but only ourselves and God.

On an interpersonal level, I think often we confuse humility with self-deprecation. It is not humility to pretend we are less than we really are – it is perhaps false humility, but a better word might be dishonesty. Remembering Merriam-Webster’s definition, pride can be a reasonable or justified self respect. When Paul writes to the Romans, he cautions them to “not think of yourselves more highly than you ought” – something we often simply read to mean “don’t think of yourself highly”. I think Paul advocates a healthy and sober recognition of the gifts God has given each of us.

In Philippians, he writes what I think may be the key to balance – “Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others too.”

As I’ve thought and struggled the past few weeks, I think the place I am beginning to arrive is here: interpersonally, pride is not about denying who you are or the gifts God has given you so people feel more comfortable around you. Jesus certainly didn’t do that. Even though he gave up his divine privileges, he didn’t simply pretend to be “just another human” so everyone would like him. He performed miracles, spoke truthfully, and acted consistent to his character, and in fact, contrary to what we would like to think, there were no doubt people who considered Jesus a bit on the “prideful” side – “Who does he think he is? Only God can forgive sins!” (Luke 5:21).

On the other hand, just as we’re called to not think of ourselves more highly than we ought, so too we are called to not think of others as being less than ourselves, remembering that we are all truly equals before the Cross of Christ. We often take comfort in playing the comparison game, feeling that as long as we’re doing just a little bit better than somebody else out there, we’re at least not the worst. For many of us, I think interpersonal pride manifests itself less often in overvaluing our own gifts and achievements than in undervaluing the gifts and achievements of others. In pretending our gifts, talents, and accomplishments are more important than someone else’s, we lose perspective on the fact that all gifts, talents, and accomplishments exist only by the grace of God.

No matter who we are, hubris is our constant companion. Often it is so subtle we don’t recognize it. Even when we look at “prideful” people, there is usually a small part of us that says “I’m glad I’m not *that* prideful”, in turn making us just a bit more prideful than we were. Again and again, I am reminded of the words of Nietzsche – Wer mit Ungeheuern kämpft, mag zusehn, dass er nicht dabei zum Ungeheuer wird. Und wenn du lange in einen Abgrund blickst, blickt der Abgrund auch in dich hinein. – “He who fights monsters must take care that he not become a monster himself. For when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you.”

At the the end of the day, when I evaluate myself and am tempted to look around at people who “aren’t quite as good” as I feel I am, I hope I am constantly reminded of this reality – that I am not very far from being any of those people; that there, but for the grace of God, go I.

To the Holy and Righteous God -

We have offended you and wronged you countless times, but you have forgiven us of our massive debt. Yet in our pride and selfishness, we refuse to forgive others, choosing to hold grudges and demand payment for debts we cannot collect.

Forgive our unforgiveness, and teach us to remember not only the debts we wish to collect, but the debts we owe.

We seek to honor your word, but often choose only the parts we want to hear, pretending you are silent when it is more convenient or more pleasant.

Forgive us for pretending we are better than we are, and teach us to be more honest with those around us, with you, and with ourselves.

We have ignored the cries of the desperate and hurting, forgetting you are the defender of the poor and oppressed. Like Ananias and Sapphira, we pretend to give more of ourselves than we really do.

Forgive our deception, and teach us to listen to those around us, and act with your passion.

We have placed our convenience above your commandments, forgetting the call of Jesus to love our neighbor as ourselves. We seek to rationalize ways around your will, refusing to follow in your footsteps unless we gain something, just like the crowds who came to Jesus because he gave them something to eat.

Forgive our greed, and teach us to release our own desires into your hands, and take up yours.

We have become proud and haughty, claiming to be the sole guardians of truth. We defend truth so much that we drive people away from your message of reconciliation.

Forgive our pride, and teach us to remember that we are only lowly servants in your kingdom – all honor and glory is reserved for you alone.

We are too often blinded to our mistakes and shortcomings. We pretend that all is well in our lives, and overlook sickness in our souls. We attempt to give first aid to those around us, but ignore the terminal illnesses we live with each day.

Forgive our myopia. Teach us to look first at the plank in our own eye, before we attempt to remove the speck from our brother’s eye.

For the places we fail but do not know, forgive us.

et iterum venturus est cum gloria
judicare vivos et mortuos
cujus regni non erit finis.
amen.