Folk often in the public eye become too well acquainted with pedestals. Occasionally someone familiar with my small corner of influence hoists me up on one. I wish they wouldn鈥檛鈥擨 don鈥檛 belong there.
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They don鈥檛 know the real me, you see. At home, dust often collects like fur on my furniture, and I don鈥檛 always vacuum under things. Clean laundry often stays in the basket till it鈥檚 permanently cubed. I鈥檇 rather paint walls than wash them. I only clean the outside of my windows when the outdoors looks almost extinct.
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(No, my mother didn鈥檛 raise me that way. If Jesus had come back when I was growing up at 2910 Murray Street, my mother would have told him (albeit politely) to hold his apocalyptic horses until she finished sweeping the floor.)
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There鈥檚 more: I eat too much too often. I鈥檓 crabby sometimes. Downright nasty occasionally with the man I love best, and often selfish. I catch myself judging people. I have miles to go when it comes to loving people like Christ.
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I鈥檝e also battled something pedestals easily generate. Something the Bible says God especially hates. Pride. It began in childhood when I realized I could do things not all my friends could do. Sing. Make nice speeches. I could also wiggle my ears, flare my nostrils, make my neck grow at will and speak in fake tongues on command. (Now I can do all four at the same time and I鈥檓 not even a Charismatic.)
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These days, each time I鈥檓 tempted to the sin of pride over others鈥� opinions regarding something I am or do, I imagine God鈥檚 reaction. 鈥淕ive her time,鈥� perhaps he says to the angels, 鈥渢he humble pie鈥檒l fly to her face all by itself.
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It always does. I gulped a slice the other day, when forced to admit I鈥檇 been mistaken about something I鈥檇 insisted was true. I choked down another one as I confessed to a friend who thanked me for praying for her that I鈥檇 clean forgotten. And I鈥檝e practically had to eat several humble pies at once when a reader of one of my published works鈥攂ook, column or article鈥攑oints out a spelling or grammar error.
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Nevertheless, God has patiently taught me things about pride. As good as it feels to have the admiration of others, pedestals are simply too narrow for a stable existence. I鈥檝e tumbled down too many times, and where pride is involved, there鈥檚 no safety net. Just so you know, it鈥檚 a free fall right to the un-cushioned bottom. Lost face waits down there, pain and the bitter disappointment of others. Especially God.
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As I mentioned, I do my best to stay on level ground these days. (I also try never to hoist others onto pedestals. When they fall, it hurts me too.)
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Only Jesus deserves a pedestal. Instead, for the love of you and me, he chose the humility and horror of a cross. His followers must be willing to do likewise.
