This entry is part 1 of 10 in the series humility

Shortly after writing yesterday's post, I read 1 Peter 3:8: “Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind.” That pretty much covers it, right? If we have these five characteristics, we should not have many people problems. The last one–a humble mind–caught my attention.

Pride is the root of offense. It is only when we think something of ourselves that we can be offended. If my sense of self and my security come from and rest in God–that which is unchanging–then my sense of self and my security cannot be rocked or shaken by the behavior of others. As my pastor has said, “Dead people don’t get offended.” When I die to myself and find my life hidden in God, I’ve moved to another place where offense can’t touch me.

Let’s face it–well, let me face it–my mulling over of conversations, rehearsing the list of offenses, and so forth, comes from being far too self-focused and too caught up in what I perceive others to think of me. My fantasies of confrontation come from a belief that I’m worth defending and that I must prove to others that they can’t treat me that way. It’s a desire to put others in their places.

As I write this, my emotions keep interjecting, “Yes, but…” And that’s part of the problem too. When I allow my emotions free rein, I end up in bad places, because emotions can’t be trusted. The Spirit has been showing me (repeatedly!) over the past year that victory comes when I choose the leading of the Spirit over the leading of my emotions. Turning the other cheek is not a choice of the emotions because it doesn’t feel good. I am growing in my ability to move past my emotions and seek the Holy Spirit’s wisdom for my responses, but in the area of offense, growth is coming slowly.

Among other things, humility allows us to keep our emotions in their proper place. Emotions say, “You’re important–prove it by striking back!” But humility says, “You’re important to God and you don’t have to prove it. Let it go.” Humility keeps the focus on God, while emotions keep the focus on me. I should add here that I don’t believe emotions are a bad thing; emotions are a gift from God and are, of themselves, neutral. It’s what we do with emotions that becomes positive or negative. Jesus appears to have felt some negative emotions in Gethsemane, but He had the wisdom to bring His emotional response to the Father and say, “You show me what to do and I’ll do it, even if it’s not what I want.” That’s humility.

I wrote yesterday that I wanted a promise to hold on to because the psalmist tells us that God’s “promise preserves my life.” God offers quite a few promises to those who choose humility:

  • “For You save a humble people” (Psalm 18:27)
  • “He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble His way.” (Psalm 25:9)
  • “The Lord lifts up the humble” (Psalm 147:6)
  • “He adorns the humble with salvation” (Psalm 149:4)
  • “to the humble He gives favor” (Proverbs 3:34)
  • “The reward for humility and fear of the Lord is riches and honor and life.” (Proverbs 22:4)
  • “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:4)
  • “he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Luke 14:11)

An impressive list! And of course, Paul reminds us in Philippians that if we want to be like Christ, we must be humble. Clearly, I have every reason to seek humility.

This entry is part 1 of 10 in the series humility

Yesterday, I got out Andrew Murray’s Humility: The Journey Toward Holiness, a wonderful and powerful little book (just over 100 pages). I read it back in early 2004, and it seems like a good time to read it again.

Murray starts by making the point that all most Christians know of humility is in regard to sin: we are humbled when we realize our sinfulness, but once we are saved, we hear nothing more of humility. In response to this misconception, he writes:

It needs to be made clear that it is not sin that humbles but grace. It is the soul occupied with God in His wonderful glory as Creator and Redeemer that will truly take the lowest place before Him.… If we are to be humble not only before God but toward men, and if humility is to be our joy, we must see that it is not only the mark of shame because of sin, but apart from sin, it is being clothed with the very beauty and blessedness of Jesus. (emphasis added)

Murray concludes that humility is “our participation in the life of Jesus.”

This is something to ponder. Different communities of believers emphasize different aspects: some say that to be like Jesus is to be involved in social justice; others, that we must walk in manifestations of miraculous power, with signs and wonders following; another, preaching sin and salvation to the lost. Each of these is indeed a part of what Jesus did on earth, and we who are being made in His likeness should do what He did.

Murray points us to Philippians 2 to assert that humility is at the core of who Jesus is. Before His love of the poor, before the miracles, before the preaching–before everything–is humility. He humbled Himself to the Father in heaven; in humility He took on flesh; He lived in the humility of total dependence on the Father while on earth; and humility took Him to the cross. As Murray sees it, if you want to be like Jesus, you must first learn humility.

This entry is part 3 of 10 in the series humility

Yesterday, I wrote about the start of Andrew Murray’s book Humility and the tremendous blessing that humility brings. Murray states that humility is “being clothed with the very beauty and blessedness of Jesus.” Having offered this enticement, he moves in the second chapter to graphically describe the fruit of pride.

As Murray sees it, we will either walk in pride because we are bearing the fruit of sin, or we will walk in humility because we are bearing the fruit of Jesus Christ living in us. Adam and Eve walked in humility–total dependence on God–until they believed the lie of Satan and allowed pride in. Murray writes that the life that came from Adam and Eve

became corrupted to its very root with that most terrible of all sins and curses–Satan’s pride. All the wretchedness of which this world has been the scene, all its wars and bloodshed among the nations, all its selfishness and suffering, all its vain ambition and jealousy, all its broken hearts and embittered lives, with all its daily unhappiness, have their origin in what this cursed pride–our own or that of others–has brought on us.

He goes on to say,

No tree can grow except on the root from which it sprang. The pride that Satan brought from hell and whispered into the life of humankind is working daily, hourly, and with mighty power throughout the world. Men and women suffer from it; they fear and fight and flee it; and yet they don’t always know where it has come from or how it has gained such terrible supremacy. No wonder they don’t know how to overcome it. Pride has its root and strength in spiritual power, outside of us as well as within us… it is satanic in origin.

Lest we focus on wars and suffering and so think pride can’t be at work in us (“It’s all other people!”), Murray brings it down to the everyday, to where we live:

Let us consider how our lack of love, indifference to the needs and feelings of others, even sharp comments and hasty judgments that are often excused as being honest and straightforward, are thwarting the effect of the influence of the Holy Spirit on others. Manifestations of temper and touchiness and irritation, feelings of bitterness and estrangement, have their root in nothing but pride.

Ouch! At least one of those describes me–actually, the whole list does at one time or other, and on same days, I might be able to check off all of them! I appreciate that Murray doesn’t allow any wiggle room or excuses.

Over the past few years, the Holy Spirit has been teaching me that I am always responsible for my behavior, whether action or reaction. Most of us don’t have a problem with the first premise, but we balk at the second. If you are unkind to me, and I am ugly back, I like to blame my reaction on you and your behavior: “If you hadn’t said X, I wouldn’t have shouted Y.”

That is, to be blunt, a lie from the pit of hell.

I always have control over my actions; I always have a choice. Let me say that again, and you can repeat it with me: I always have control over my actions. I always have a choice. Consider Jesus: Peter tells us that Jesus refused to answer back to those who insulted and threatened. How did He manage this? He “continued entrusting Himself to God, who judges justly.” As I understand it, continually entrusting ourselves to God is the essence of humility.

Though it’s not enjoyable, it is good to be reminded of the power of sin and the fruit that it produces. It’s good to allow the Holy Spirit to confront the darkness in our lives. My prayer for you and for me is that we will invite Him to search out the pride that lurks within us; only when it’s exposed can we deal with it.

This entry is part 4 of 10 in the series humility

Just in case I was uncertain about focusing on humility right now, the Holy Spirit provided ample confirmation Thursday afternoon. I was a little discouraged and decided to read Oswald Chambers’ Utmost and Martin Luther’s By Faith Alone. Here’s what I found–

Luther, writing about Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac, says, “Of all the sacrifices we can make, the one most acceptable to God is this: getting rid of sin, living a holy life, obeying God, and killing our corrupt nature.” I love how Luther finishes: “This is very painful and unpleasant for us to do.”

Chambers writes,

The joy of Jesus was His absolute self-surrender and self-sacrifice to His Father–the joy of doing that which the Father sent Him to do– “who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross.”… Jesus prayed that our joy might continue fulfilling itself until it becomes the same joy as His.

Chambers finished with this: “But the first thing that will hinder this joy is the subtle irritability caused by giving too much thought to our circumstances.”

Here’s what got me: I was discouraged because I realized that walking in humility–total dependence on God–requires death to self. And as Luther noted, this death is painful and unpleasant. Luther and Chambers didn’t provide quite the encouragement I was looking for–that’s why I went from one to the other; I was hoping for something along the lines of, “Worry not! God loves you just as you are.” In other words, no need to work on this humility thing right now.

I already know that God loves me just as I am; and I also know He loves me too much to allow me to stay that way. Apparently this is a season in which I am to grow in humility. I embrace that.

I did get my encouragement that night as I was reading the evening prayer. The gospel selection was John 11, the resurrection of Lazarus. I had a wonderful revelation from this. I thought, “I’m dying here. But one day, Jesus will say to me, ‘Dan, come forth!’” And at that moment, I will come out, the grave clothes of my pride will be stripped away, and I will be new. I don’t believe I have to wait until heaven for this; God certainly desires us to find newness of life and humility here. This excited me, because I realized that dying to self and to pride doesn’t have to take forever: I can coöperate with the work of the Spirit and get it over with.

Another picture came to mind as well. Some of us get the resurrection of Lazarus confused with Night of the Living Dead. We’re out of the tomb and running around alright, but death is all over us, and we terrorize rather than bless. Those putrid zombies walking with single-minded focus, arms outstretched, seem to me the epitome of pride and selfishness: they want what they want and nothing better get in the way.

So far, I have found that the key to becoming Lazarus rather than a zombie is in two things: keeping my mouth shut and spending a lot of time in prayer. Yesterday, someone said something that really ticked me off, and I started to reply. But I knew if I spoke I would regret it. I said nothing, and immediately I heard the Spirit say, “you’re one step closer.” And it’s true. Each time I refrain, the next time is easier.

But not speaking didn’t solve the whole problem. I had put an end to potential conflict, but I was still angry. That’s where the prayer came in. I had to stop, breathe deeply, and say the Lord’s Prayer (that was the only thing that came to mind as I was trying to calm myself). After that, I was able to speak forgiveness: “Father, I forgive him. I release him; he owes me nothing.” Actually, I had to pray that several times–it can be a challenge to convince myself to let go of an offense.

But the zombie started up for just a moment a little later. I thought, “Good job, Dan. You’re more spiritual than he is. You can keep your mouth shut.” That, of course, is pride. The Holy Spirit put this in perspective for me. Rather than taking so-called joy in my apparent superiority, I need to take joy in the surrender. After all, it was only because the Spirit was there to guide me (“don’t speak, Dan”; “pray, Dan”; “Dan, you need to forgive”) that I was able to handle the situation as I did.

Silence and prayer deal with the immediate; Jesus provides another key that addresses the long-term: “For the joy set before Him.” As Chambers notes, we can give “too much thought to our circumstances.” That’s what the enemy tempts us to do: focus on the here and now and the immediate pleasure of engaging in conflict. A perspective that sees the big picture, focuses on the real goal, makes a different choice. As James notes, our anger doesn’t produce righteousness. Nor does it produce joy. Reading about Lazarus showed me the joy ahead of me in dying to self and learning humility. I want that joy, and I’m going to have it, even if it kills me.

This entry is part 5 of 10 in the series humility

This is the fifth in a series on humility; it starts with “got humility?

I’m seeing that a large part of growing in humility is learning to love people. I started to write “deal with people,” but deal sounds so…unloving. I don’t want to be one who sees others as something to deal with, as if people were obstacles; I want to love people as if they are the most important thing around. And that requires humility, total dependence on and trust in God. As my family will tell you, humility does not come naturally to me, and I know that only with God’s help can I walk consistently in humility and love in my relationships.

Reading Luke 4 today made this all the clearer. Jesus returns to Nazareth, his hometown, and goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath. It suddenly occurred to me: Jesus had history with these people–decades of history. These citizens of Nazareth who tried to kill Jesus because He offended them: Jesus had grown up with them, played with them, worked for them, lived with them. Back in June, I wrote about my realization that Jesus had a real job for many years; today I realized that Jesus had a lot of relational issues to deal with.

Thirty-three years of parents, brothers and sisters, friends, neighbors, customers, vendors. Thirty-three years of relationships, and He never sinned. Not once. Is that amazing, or what?

When I think about the perfection of Jesus, I tend to think of the “big” things: He didn’t steal, didn’t lie, didn’t lust. I knew theoretically that this also meant He never swore at someone in anger, never made a dig to build Himself up, never joked at someone’s expense. I knew it in theory, but I had never considered the implications. Imagine this scenario:

Jesus: I’ve finished your shelves–just what you ordered.
Woman: It’s too tall.
Jesus: Three cubits high, two cubits wide. That’s what you told me.
Woman: But that was when I wanted them for the living room. I’ve decided to put them in the bedroom, and those shelves would just dominate that room. No, it’s too tall. I don’t want these.
Jesus: But you didn’t take the last set I built because the color was wrong.
Woman: I know, but it’s so hard to visualize how the finished product will look with the other furniture. When I got home, I thought that color would be perfect in the bedroom, so that’s where I want them. And they are beautiful. Just the right color. But too tall. You’ll need to make them smaller.
Jesus: Yes Ma’am. What are the measurements for the bedroom?

Imagine dealing with this (could you read it without putting some sort of negative inflection on any of Jesus’ responses? It’s hard!)–dealing with this, and with insults, words spoken in anger or sarcasm, actions from thoughtlessness or from hurtful intentions–dealing, in short, with fallen human nature, and never sinning. I continue to be astounded as I ponder this. I find it a challenge to make it through one day without messing up multiple interactions, and Jesus made it through an entire life.

The question, of course, is how did He do it? Andrew Murray points us to Jesus’ language:

Listen to the words our Lord speaks of His relationship to the Father and see how consistently He uses the words not and nothing of Himself…

  • “The Son can do nothing by himself” (John 5:19)
  • “By myself I can do nothing; I judge only as I hear, and my judgment is just, for I seek not to please myself but Him who sent Me” (John 5:30)
  • “I do not accept praise from men” (John 5:41)
  • “For I have come down from heaven not to do my will” (John 6:38)
  • “My teaching is not my own” (John 7:16)
  • “I am not here on my own” (John 7:28)
  • “I do nothing on my own” (John 8:28)
  • “I have not come on my own; but He sent Me” (John 8:42)
  • “I am not seeking glory for myself” (John 8:50)
  • “The words I say to you are not just my own” (John 14:10)
  • These words you hear are not my own” (John 14:24)

Murray concludes:

These words of testimony, spoken by the Lord himself, reveal the deepest motivation of His life and work… He was nothing that God might be all.

This life of entire self-abnegation, of absolute submission and dependence upon the Father’s will, Christ found to be the source of perfect peace and joy. He lost nothing by giving all to God.

He never for a moment sought His own honor or asserted His power to vindicate himself. His whole spirit was that of a life yielded to God.

“He lost nothing by giving all to God”: that’s the crux, isn’t it? Pride is about the fear of losing to others. If I don’t respond to this, I’ll lose face. I need to put him in his place, or he’ll think he’s won. I won’t her get the better of me. Add to this thinking the fact that humility looks like being a doormat, and we see why humility in relationships comes so hard.

But when I consider what I get when I assert my rights and seek to win…I get trouble. I allow strife into my home, I open the door to condemnation, and I invite the Spirit’s conviction; none of these is pleasant, and the consequences tend to last a while. In contrast, when I allow humility to guide me in my relationships, I experience the momentary pain of self-denial, but that’s it. And that doesn’t last very long. So what do I have to lose? According to Jesus, nothing.

This entry is part 6 of 10 in the series humility

This is the sixth in a series on humility; it starts with “got humility?“

Yesterday’s post on Jesus, humility, and relationships anticipated the next step in Andrew Murray’s teaching. Murray moves from his foundation of humility in the life of Jesus to consider how it will be borne out in the life of the believer. He begins with 1 John 4:20: “for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.” Murray contends that humility will be seen in relationships with people and not just with God:

It is a solemn thought that our love for God is measured by our everyday relationships with others. Except as its validity is proven in standing the test of daily life with our fellowmen, our love for God may be found to be a delusion. It is easy to think that we humble ourselves before God, but our humility toward others is the only sufficient proof that humility before God is real… In God’s presence, humility is not a posture we assume for a time–when we think of Him or pray to Him–but the very spirit of our life. It will manifest itself in all our bearing toward others. A lesson of deepest importance is that the only humility that is really ours is not the kind we try to show before God in prayer, but the kind we carry with us, and carry out, in our ordinary conduct. The seemingly insignificant acts of daily life are the test of eternity, because they prove what spirit possesses us… Humility before God is nothing if it is not proven in humility before others.

Holy Spirit, search my heart and uncover the pride that lurks there. Show me how to live in true humility, and give me opportunities to live it in my relationships, just as Jesus did.

This is a dangerous prayer, because it guarantees that our relationships will offer us the chance to choose humility; we will be put to the test. But it’s the only way to grow; humility is developed not in isolation but in interaction. If we truly want to be humble, this is a risk we must be willing to take.

This entry is part 7 of 10 in the series humility

This is #7 in a series on humility.

I’ve got a sinus infection, so I’m going to keep this short.

I thought about writing a post today titled “help me, I’m dying”–not because I’m sick (though my head does feel as if it’s about to explode) but rather because practicing humility is killing my flesh, and it’s hard. It’s easy to get discouraged. Murray offers some much needed encouragement:

Let us be content with nothing less than taking each example of Jesus’ humility as the promise of what God will work in us, as the revelation of what the Spirit of Jesus will put within us. Allow each failure and shortcoming to only the more quickly turn us to the meek and lowly Lamb of God in the assurance that where He is enthroned in the heart, His humility and gentleness will be the streams of living water that flow from within us.

This is a timely reminder to me that I’m not doing this on my own–can’t do it on my own, in fact. Only by the power of the Spirit can true humility be worked in me. Praise God that it is His desire to do that work!