Bruised Egos and Blessedness - A Reflection on Humility
“I really appreciated how you chose not to speak during this section,” Melissa said. We were taking a few minutes at the end of a full day of planning meetings. Melissa, Susan, and I were in a breakout in the middle of the afternoon, tasked with bringing clarity to a part of our plan that needed work. “By staying quiet, you made space for Susan and me to lead… and I think we got to a good outcome.”
Melissa’s feedback made me curious about her experience working with men in our community. She’s a respected leader. Is it unexpected or noticeable when a male leader differs to her? I wondered what it’s like for Susan or other women to lead in our organization.
Simultaneously, my ego was bruised. What did it mean that my appreciated contribution to the meeting was to stay silent? Are my observations and insights an asset to our team, or a liability? Am I valued if I’m not actively adding to the conversation?
Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” This is the opening to Jesus’ most famous sermon in Matthew 5. It sets a powerful, yet controversial, picture for the priorities of Jesus’ kingdom vision. Whether we take the phrase, “poor in spirit” to mean awareness of our own spiritual poverty before God, or to mean those who, through marginalization or oppression have what we might call a ‘broken spirit,’ the emphasis is on Jesus’ priority of place and compassion toward those who lack the ability to be boldly self-assertive.
This runs counter to popular American culture. We seem to prefer the boldly self-assertive, successful, educated, and entrepreneurial. We have been shaped by the Horatio Alger myths of the, ‘self-made man,’ (or woman) who, through sheer force of personality, talent, grit, and hard work becomes financially prosperous and culturally influential. And yet…
Jesus teaches that it is not the self-assured who experience peace with God, but the humble, the poor in spirit. Later teachings of Jesus tease this implication out. Even when the self-assured are decidedly more upstanding, it is the poor in spirit who get to know God.
‘God be merciful to me, a sinner,’ is a much better prayer, even accompanied by an immoral and impious life, than ‘thank you, thank you, thank you,’ or ‘help,’ uttered by the pious and proud.
Christian discipleship then pulls in two directions simultaneously. It sets our minds to acquire wisdom while steeping our hearts in humility. Only then will we be able to “do what is right, rightly” that is, to exercise wisdom without pride, to serve without need for recognition, to love others for their sake rather than our own.
Melissa’s words revealed an ego still needing to be steeped in humility. The perspective that my most important contributions are conveyed in the words I share and not in the space I hold for others is out of alignment with Jesus’ message. I need to pray, “Lord teach me how to be poor in spirit.”
How does Jesus’ vision (or the Horatio Alger myth) shape how you see yourself and others?