Posts tagged ‘Humility’
A Little Lesson in Humility
Humility is hard. If you don’t believe me, just consider whether you became reflexively defensive the last time someone questioned one of your beliefs, decisions, or values. Consider whether you asked yourself, without anxiousness or annoyance, “What can I learn from this person? How can I love them rather than seeking to justify myself before them?” More often than not, we are far quicker to defend ourselves than we are to humble ourselves. We are far quicker to protect our pride than we are to sacrifice our egos.
Jesus was never proud. Instead, “He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to death – even death on a cross (Philippians 2:8)! Indeed, one of my favorite lessons from Jesus in humility comes in when He is invited to a party at the home of a prominent Pharisee. When Jesus notices that, at dinner, the party guests are all clamoring to grab the best seats at the table, He says:
When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, “Give this person your seat.” Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, “Friend, move up to a better place.” Then you will be honored in the presence of all the other guests. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. (Luke 14:8-11)
Jesus uses a dinner table to illustrate just how deeply pride has sunk its roots into the human heart. Even at the dinner table, we’ll position ourselves closest to those we perceive as most important so others will perceive us as more important.
Author Michelle Fields tells an interesting story about the presidency of Thomas Jefferson. In Great Britain, the country from which President Jefferson emigrated, formal dinners were always hosted around rectangular tables. But as president, Jefferson always insisted on hosting his dinners around round tables. Fields explains his logic:
He didn’t like the rectangular tables used at royal functions, which would seat guests according to their rank and status. Jefferson figured that, at a round table, no one could sit at the head and no one could mistake him for a king. He believed that “when brought together in society, all are perfectly equal, whether foreign or domestic, titled or untitled, in or out of office.”[1]
President Jefferson did not want people clamoring for places of pride around the dinner table. So he rounded his tables.
Part of the reason pride is so cunning is that it’s not just those who clamor for a high seat at the table who can fall prey to pride, it’s even those who willingly take a low seat at the table in an act of self-debasement who can struggle with pride. Why? Because both of an arrogant view of one’s self that takes a high seat and a pitiable view of one’s self that takes a low seat are focused on the self. They are both fundamentally narcissistic, which is the very definition of what it means to be proud.
Humility is focused not on the self, but on God and on others. As C.S. Lewis explains it, “Humility…turns [a] man’s attention away from self to [God], and to the man’s neighbours.”[2] Thus, humility is interested neither in a position of honor at a table nor in a position of debasement at a table because it is too concerned with everyone else around the table. Humility doesn’t care where it sits as long as it can serve others.
What rectangle tables do you have in your life that need to be rounded? Where do you clamor for a seat, whether that seat be high or low, at your job, in your church, in your home, or in your self-perception? Rather than worrying about which seat should be your seat, humility invites you to look at people in other seats – and love them.
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[1] Michelle Fields, “A Country Steeped in Humility,” National Review (6.21.2016).
[2] C.S. Lewis, The Complete C.S. Lewis Signature Classics (New York: Harper One, 2007), 224.
Four Lessons From The Spurs You Probably Already Know
Credit: Getty Images
This past week was a great one to be living in San Antonio. For the fifth time in franchise history, the San Antonio Spurs brought home the title of NBA National Champions. As much as I enjoyed watching Game 5 of the National Championship and seeing the Spurs come back from a 16-point deficit to win 104 to 87, the Spurs have a lot more going for them than just one big win in one big game. Their words and demeanor season after season offer some good, even if simple, lessons. Here are four that I’ve been thinking about.
A Lesson in Teamwork
The Spurs, as sportscasters, fans, and bystanders alike will tell you, are a team. But not just in the sense that they all happen to be wearing the same jersey. No, they play like a team. They act like a team. And they win like a team. Benjamin Morris noted that the Spurs “had nine different players take four or more field goal attempts per game throughout the playoffs, compared to just six for Miami.”[1] In San Antonio, everybody gets to play because, in San Antonio, everybody needs to play to bring home a win.
Playing as a team, of course, is needed not only on the court, but in the Christian life. To meet the challenges we face, everybody needs to play together. I think of the apostle Paul and all of his teammates, or, as he called them, “partners” (e.g., 2 Corinthians 8:23; Philippians 1:5; Philemon 1:7), in the gospel. With whom do you need to team up so you can share and show God’s love more effectively?
A Lesson in Humility
When Kawhi Leonard was named Most Valuable Player for the Finals, his shock was apparent – and endearing. I loved how he responded to his high honor: “Right now, it’s just surreal to me,” he said. “I have a great group of guys behind me.”[2] Kawhi knew he performed great in Game 5. But he also knew it wasn’t just about him. It was about them – all the Spurs behind him.
In a world where Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram are full of people shouting, “Look at me!” – to have a man point to the men behind him is impressive and important. This is true humility. Indeed, true humility is not about degrading yourself, but about lifting others up, which Leonard did beautifully. Who can you point to in humility?
A Lesson in Perseverance
Before they were the National Champion San Antonio Spurs of 2014, they were the team that let everything slip through their fingers in 2013. The front page of the San Antonio Express-News reflected last year’s heartbreak in its headline: “REDEMPTION!” But it took 362 days after a heartbreaking Game 6 loss to get that redemption. 362 long days. “A day didn’t go by when I didn’t think about Game 6,” said Coach Gregg Popovich. “For the group to have the fortitude to get back to this spot speaks volumes.”[3] The Spurs took a fall, yes, but they turned that fall into fuel for fortitude. In the words of Tim Duncan, “What happened last year definitely helped our drive … We could have reacted in different ways. We reacted the right way.”
Where you in your life do you need to persevere? Where do you need to take things that go wrong and learn from them so you can do right?
A Lesson in Inclusion
Scott Cacciola of The New York Times recently published an article hailing the Spurs as “The United Nations of the Hardwood”:
The Spurs, as has been well established, have developed an international flair under Coach Gregg Popovich. Eight players on the current roster were born outside the United States. Loosely translated, that means the Spurs use at least four languages – English, Spanish, French and Italian – to communicate among themselves.
Manu Ginobili, an Argentine, is the team’s one-man version of the United Nations, capable of conversing in Spanish with his Brazilian teammate Tiago Splitter and in Italian with Marco Belinelli, who was born outside Bologna. (Ginobili speaks in English with everybody else.)
Boris Diaw, who is from France, converses en français with Tony Parker, who was born in Belgium but grew up in France. Both players also know some Italian, enough to eavesdrop on conversations between Ginobili and Belinelli.
Even the two team’s two Australians, Patty Mills and Aron Baynes, have their own dialect.
“We’ll hear them and be like, ‘Whoa!’” the assistant coach Chad Forcier said.
Tim Duncan, who is from the United States Virgin Islands, is considered an international player by the NBA.[4]
During the championship ceremony, many of these players wrapped themselves in the flags of their home countries.
The inclusion of so many men from so many places, all together on one team, makes me smile. It reminds me of the promise that anyone from any “nation, tribe, people and language” (Revelation 7:9) can be included as one redeemed by the Lamb through faith. And the more, the merrier. That’s why one of my prayers is that heaven is chocked full. I’d hate to see one empty corner where a person could have been. So would the Lord. He wants as many people included in His Kingdom as possible. Who can you pray for to be included in eternity’s celebration?
In reality, these lessons are pretty simple and straightforward. Indeed, I suspect you have probably already learned these lessons somewhere along the way. Nothing in this blog is probably news to you. But lessons don’t have to be esoteric and unknown to be profound and helpful. They just have to be true. And these lessons most certainly are. That’s why I thought we could all use a little reminder.
So congratulations, Spurs. And thanks for the lessons. They’re great.
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[1] Benjamin Morris, “The Spurs Were an Outlier of Unselfishness,” FiveThirtyEight (6.17.2014).
[2] Associated Press, “Kawhi Leonard named Finals MVP,” ESPN (6.16.2014).
[3] Jeff McDonald, “High five! Spurs dethrone Heat for fifth NBA championship,” San Antonio Express-News (6.15.2014)
[4] Scott Cacciola, “The United Nations of the Hardwood,” The New York Times (6.15.2014).
“Look at me!”
This past weekend in ABC, I talked about how far too many of us live by the narcissistic credo, “Look at me.” What children will say to their parents at the pool right before they do a flip or a dive is the same thing we want, albeit we may not say so in so many words. Instead, it is our actions – sometimes wild and dramatic; other times passive, yet aggressive – that cry out for people to notice. And oftentimes, our actions produce their desired effect. Oftentimes, people look at us, even if for all the wrong reasons.
Sadly, having others “look at me” is a desire that not only resides in the hearts of people in the world out there; it is a desire that resides in my heart. I want people to take note of who I am and what I do. Whether it’s a Bible study that I lead or a sermon that I preach or a blog that I post, I can quickly become all too curious to know what people think of what I have said or written and if people care. And if they don’t think highly of what I’ve said or written, or if they don’t care, I can easily become hurt. After all, just like so many others, I like to be remembered and recognized. I want people to “look at me.”
One of the most puzzling motifs in the Gospels is what a scholar named William Wrede deemed “the Messianic secret.” The Messianic secret describes those times when, after a particularly profound and revealing utterance or after some miraculous feat, Jesus warns His disciples not to share His identity or actions with anyone else. For instance, after Peter claims Jesus to be “the Christ,” that is, the Messiah, Jesus warns the disciples “not to tell anyone about Him” (Mark 8:29-30).
Wrede claims that, historically, Jesus did not believe Himself to be and did not speak of Himself as the Messiah. Later Christians came to this conclusion quite apart from what Jesus actually said and did. According to Wrede, the Gospel writers made up these Messianic “secrets” and inserted them into the Gospels as an apologetic to argue for Jesus’ Messianic identity.
Not surprisingly, orthodox Christians take a different view of these secretive statements. We believe these statements were not later glosses to create for Jesus a Messianic identity He never claimed, but genuine statements by Jesus concerning who He is and what He had come to do.
But why would He want to keep His grand identity a secret? The general consensus is that Jesus knew many people would misunderstand what it means for Him to be the Messiah, for many of the Jews of that day had visions of the Messiah as a political revolutionary dancing in their heads. Jesus, of course, was no such Christ. He had not come to overthrow a government, but to usher in a Kingdom.
Beyond this, Jesus’ secretive statements also seem to reflect the fulfillment of prophecy. One of the marks of the Messiah, according to Isaiah, is His humility. The Messiah will not clamor to pronounce before the world His identity and power: “He will not shout or cry out, or raise His voice in the streets” (Isaiah 42:2). In other words, the Messiah will not come to this world announcing, “Look at me!”
In a world where we struggle with the desire to be noticed, there is a lesson to be learned from the Messianic secret. Jesus eschewed notice, and yet there has never been anyone more noticeable than Him. His noticeability came through His humility.
Perhaps our noticeability should come the same way. Perhaps rather than shouting “Look at me,” we should practice a gentle humility.
ABC Extra – Pride and Destruction
One of the frustrations of teaching through a whole book of the Bible in the scope of a mere hour, as I did in Sunday’s ABC, is that, inevitably and necessarily, I must leave many aspects of the book unaddressed. Thus, as I taught the book of Esther yesterday, I found myself frustrated with all the things I didn’t have time to talk about! Thankfully, however, I do have this blog. And so, I thought it might be helpful to touch on a fascinating subplot in Esther’s story that I did not cover yesterday.
The basic contours of Esther’s story are these. The Jews are under the rule of King Xerxes of Persia in the fifth century B.C. When Xerxes’ queen, Vashti, embarrasses him at a party, he banishes her and launches a search for a new queen. After an exhaustive quest, Xerxes settles on Esther, a lovely young Jewess. Shortly after Esther becomes queen, however, an evil advisor to Xerxes named Haman concocts a plot to destroy the Jews. Esther has a cousin named Mordecai, and when he catches wind of this plot, he sends the queen a message, begging her to help her people. Esther then holds a series of two banquets to which he invites King Xerxes and the evil Haman and, at the second banquet, reveals to the king Haman’s nefarious objectives. When the king learns of Haman’s plot, he becomes furious and orders Haman to be executed by hanging. And the Jews are saved from extermination. This is the story’s major plot.
The subplot of Esther’s story centers around the queen’s cousin, Mordecai. We are first introduced to Mordecai in Esther 2 where we are told, “Mordecai had a cousin named Esther, whom he had brought up because she had neither father nor mother” (Esther 2:7). Thus, Mordecai had taken Esther under his wing. Later in this same chapter, we read this interesting anecdote:
During the time Mordecai was sitting at the king’s gate, Bigthana and Teresh, two of the king’s officers who guarded the doorway, became angry and conspired to assassinate King Xerxes. But Mordecai found out about the plot and told Queen Esther, who in turn reported it to the king, giving credit to Mordecai. And when the report was investigated and found to be true, the two officials were hanged on a gallows. All this was recorded in the book of the annals in the presence of the king. (Esther 2:21-23)
Apparently, Mordecai is a Xerxes loyalist. When the guards of the king’s chamber conspire to kill him, it is Mordecai who foils their plot. Incidentally, about ten years after this assassination attempt, Xerxes is indeed assassinated by some new guards who also keep watch over his chamber. What is especially important to note, however, is the thanks Moredecai receives for saving the king’s life. He receives no thanks. The king quickly forgets about his valiant act, though it is recorded in his annals.
Well, several years pass, and the night before the king and his right-hand man Haman are to attend Esther’s banquet where she will reveal Haman’s plot against the Jews, the king comes down with a case of insomnia:
That night the king could not sleep; so he ordered the book of the chronicles, the record of his reign, to be brought in and read to him. It was found recorded there that Mordecai had exposed Bigthana and Teresh, two of the king’s officers who guarded the doorway, who had conspired to assassinate King Xerxes. “What honor and recognition has Mordecai received for this?” the king asked. “Nothing has been done for him,” his attendants answered. The king said, “Who is in the court?”…His attendants answered, “Haman is standing in the court.” “Bring him in,” the king ordered. When Haman entered, the king asked him, “What should be done for the man the king delights to honor?” Now Haman thought to himself, “Who is there that the king would rather honor than me?” So he answered the king, “For the man the king delights to honor, have them bring a royal robe the king has worn and a horse the king has ridden, one with a royal crest placed on its head. Then let the robe and horse be entrusted to one of the king’s most noble princes. Let them robe the man the king delights to honor, and lead him on the horse through the city streets, proclaiming before him, ‘This is what is done for the man the king delights to honor!’” “Go at once,” the king commanded Haman. “Get the robe and the horse and do just as you have suggested for Mordecai the Jew, who sits at the king’s gate. Do not neglect anything you have recommended.” (Esther 6:1-10)
Mordecai finally receives his well-deserved commendation from the king. But how he receives it is comical. He receives it from Haman, the very man who is plotting to kill Mordecai along with all his people! And Haman could not be more humiliated that he is compelled to honor Mordecai in this way: “Haman rushed home, with his head covered in grief” (Esther 6:12).
“Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18). Clearly, Haman is presented as an insufferably arrogant character. His delusion concerning his own greatness is sickening: “Who is there that the king would rather honor than me?” Haman believes there is no one greater than himself. But before we scorn Haman for his haughtiness too quickly, it is worth asking if we don’t suffer from a pride similar to Haman’s. After all, who among us does not think we are somehow worthy of high honor? And who among us has not gotten angry or bitter or resentful – if only internally – when we did not receive the acclaim we thought we deserved?
Haman’s hauteur should remind us all that we are called to be humble servants of Christ. For we follow One who “humbled Himself and became obedient to death – even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8). Do you live your life with Christ-like humility?
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