“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven , and I will forgive their sin and heal their land.”
~ 2 Chronicles 7:14
A friend called me humble recently. In a public setting. In front of a group of people.
I think I kept a straight face and silenced my internal hysterical, incredulous laughter sufficiently, but there wasn’t a camera on me at the time as far as I know. If you ask me what sin I struggle with most, that’s easy – pride. I don’t think I’m alone in that struggle. It goeth before a fall and is usually regarded as the root of all other sins.
Maybe I’ve made some progress in my efforts to work on that issue? Maybe as I age I know what I’m good at and what I’m not. Maybe it’s that I’m not afraid to fail and I’m not afraid to admit what I know and don’t know. The older you get, the more you realize you don’t know, right?
If you never fail, I’m not sure you’re ever learning anything. There’s a difference between learning and education.
A while back I fled a situation that was feeding my pride and drawing me into prideful environments I wasn’t comfortable around. I knew something about it was weighing on me, I just hadn’t quite put my finger on it or named it. A few years ago at a national conference for missionaries, I listened to a woman who had served in a predominantly Buddhist country. She was speaking about spiritual warfare – a term that in conservative traditions like ours can be regarded as akin to voodoo. In white bread western suburbia, is spiritual warfare even a thing or just a fairy tale? I remember clearly this woman talking about visiting with monks in the local temple every week, after the Sunday church service she attended. They would talk about life and their views and beliefs. The sort of thing one might do as an ex-pat seeking to learn local culture, and the sort of thing one might do as a Buddhist monk showing hospitality to a foreigner. The woman found she was exhausted after every meeting, sleeping for hours and taking a day or two to fully recover her energy. Eventually she recognized there might be a spiritual warfare element and asked her supporters and prayer partners to pray for her. Life got better after that.
I had noticed my energy being sapped more than I would expect. When God woke me up and plucked me out of the situation – precipitated by an act of pride on my part, interestingly – I quickly felt a sense of peace. Blissful quiet. And peace. It was a little scary.
I shared my story with a fellow believer a day or two later. The startled, knowing look on his face told me I was probably on the right path. Thank you, God? Message(s) received.
I’m fond of remarking about the self-help title You Are a Bada** that I’ve been walking past at the bookstore for a while. There seem to be several offshoots so far. It’s becoming the modern, profane Chicken Soup for the Soul. There’s also an accompanying journal, calendar, and – as I learned from a search just now – a set of inspirational posters.
I don’t need to read that book. Duh. I know I am. ~Jennifer Grashel #YouAreAWellYouKnow Share on X
The secret to my success, though?
My God is the bada**.
I seriously feel like I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. Even when I know what I’m doing.
Chew on that one for a while.
Peace out, girl scouts.
