The Fall

We have all heard the verse:

Pride goes before the fall

We have all seen that kind of fall. It's ugly and usually takes out a lot of people on the way down.

Or so I thought.

I often pray against pride. I'm not talking the kind of pride that makes you work hard, that inspires your integrity so you can be proud of the work you've done. I'm talking the kind of pride that begins a litany of accolades running through your mind. The kind that addicts you to affirmation and praise. The kind that fuels your self-worth. The kind that takes a God given opportunity and slowly replaces God with self.

I have seen the devastation caused by pride on a small scale and on a global scale. I would really like to avoid that kind of devastation so I pray consistently for humility and quick conviction during moments of pridefulness.

In a move of sheer brilliance on behalf of pride itself, I began to think I was pretty darn good at being humble. I would even place humility at the top of the list of my strong points. I would dare go as far as to say I was self-sacrificing.

And then yesterday I fell.

We had returned to the church we've been visiting with an almost certainty that it would become our new church home. I've been very interested to see how their women's ministry worked because that's where my heart is. The honor and privilege I have had to work on a ministry team in Houston can only be defined as an opportunity God gave me that I wisely said yes to. At least, that's the churchy answer. In reality, I took a lot more ownership of the success of that ministry than I should have or would have ever admitted to.

The result is that now I sit in a new church and fight feelings of insecurity because noone knows who I am. I wonder how long it will take until they will just let me be in charge of something to give me a chance to shine. I want to name drop and rattle off my church accomplishments stopping just shy of handing out a resume. I am consumed with all sorts of vain imaginations on how God is going to use me here in Singapore.

I fell off my high horse right smack onto the soil of reality. I won't be in charge of anything unless it is in God's will for me to be. I may not ever know a lot of people at that church. Name dropping is tacky. How much of me is totally committed to God's calling on my life no matter how big or small that may be? If noone knows me or pats me on the back for a job well done, but God is well pleased with my life, will I consider that a success?

The fall from a lofty position of self-worth to the reality that I am only as good as the totality in which I give myself over to God's will, can cause some bumps and bruises on the way down. I have a few bruises right now and will probably have more before I'm done falling. They hurt. They're ugly. They are a reminder that it's impossible to fall when you're already on your knees.

I am just thankful that my Savior provides me a soft spot to land.