One of my peers, my neighbor on the floor, sat down with me at dinner and asked me a question. He wanted to see, said he, if the answer I’d give him would irritate him as much as he thought it would, because he thought to liken my answer to one he’d already heard. I told him I’d answer. And he asked, “What is humility?”
My friend Maggie looked at me across the table. He said he’d give me time to think of a good answer. At that time two others joined us at the table, and Maggie asked him while I formulated the words, “What did the other person say?”
My neighbor wouldn’t answer. He wanted to hear what I had to say. He wanted what I had to offer, even if he was planning to disagree.
“Humility,” I said, “is the reality of this: I am not my own.”
The eyes of girl at the other end of the table brightened; “That’s really good.”
But my neighbor wasn’t satisfied. He wanted me to go further. How can a man not be his own? What does that mean? “We have a choice,” I elaborated, “to either be our own, and in that be a slave to the world, or not.” He wanted me to go further—examining the “or not.” At that point I warned him that I would need to preach, but he didn’t object (nor did I give him much time to).
If I am my own, there is no one else who can save me, and I will serve myself in vain. But if I am not my own—that is, if I am God’s, and if He defines me—I am a slave to God, and He is my Master; everything I have is from Him; and naught is there from which my Master cannot save me.
That much I was able to explain to him, but I’m not confident he took it all in. A few across the table, those who don’t agree with me, interrupted it a few times, but it’s there. Maggie and I know a seed has been planted. But our work is far from over.
I won’t go into the details of his philosophy on life; but to counter my statements, he told me he believed he could do no wrong, he is not flawed, he is always perfect as he was/is/will be. And yet, oddly, he has a moral compass.
We agreed to continue our discussion. Hopefully I will also learn more about humility and come to a better definition.
My friend Maggie looked at me across the table. He said he’d give me time to think of a good answer. At that time two others joined us at the table, and Maggie asked him while I formulated the words, “What did the other person say?”
My neighbor wouldn’t answer. He wanted to hear what I had to say. He wanted what I had to offer, even if he was planning to disagree.
“Humility,” I said, “is the reality of this: I am not my own.”
The eyes of girl at the other end of the table brightened; “That’s really good.”
But my neighbor wasn’t satisfied. He wanted me to go further. How can a man not be his own? What does that mean? “We have a choice,” I elaborated, “to either be our own, and in that be a slave to the world, or not.” He wanted me to go further—examining the “or not.” At that point I warned him that I would need to preach, but he didn’t object (nor did I give him much time to).
If I am my own, there is no one else who can save me, and I will serve myself in vain. But if I am not my own—that is, if I am God’s, and if He defines me—I am a slave to God, and He is my Master; everything I have is from Him; and naught is there from which my Master cannot save me.
That much I was able to explain to him, but I’m not confident he took it all in. A few across the table, those who don’t agree with me, interrupted it a few times, but it’s there. Maggie and I know a seed has been planted. But our work is far from over.
I won’t go into the details of his philosophy on life; but to counter my statements, he told me he believed he could do no wrong, he is not flawed, he is always perfect as he was/is/will be. And yet, oddly, he has a moral compass.
We agreed to continue our discussion. Hopefully I will also learn more about humility and come to a better definition.
1 comment:
Even someone who believes he is created perfect is still created by an "other", and therefore can take no credit for that perfection!
Post a Comment