Humility

"Humility is the greatest shaper of souls and crafter of character, for it wipes way all the grandiose things that we spend so much of our lives pretending to be, so that we can spend all of our lives being the exceptional person that we were actually created to be."

~ Craig D. Lounsbrough

My favorite definition of humility goes something like this: we are able to see ourselves accurately, no more, no less, than who we really, truly are. The problem is, none of us are that objective. I spent years with an eating disorder, accidentally glancing into mirrors, seeing a large, ungainly woman who SURELY must over eat her way through cupcakes and honey buns every single night. The problem was, I weighed 97 pounds and lived off of coffee, lettuce leaves, and a small square of cheese daily. The resident mouse in my apartment at UVA probably consumed more calories than I did.

I read an article recently by a woman who had gained weight during the pandemic. She went shopping and loaded up her cart with all "smalls" - only to get stuck in one of the tops, requiring a sales clerk to help free her from the offending shirt-scissors were required. Assuming that this particular brand had "shrunk" sizing to save money, she huffed out of that store and went to three other women's clothing stores before reality began to sink in. She no longer wore a size 2. Those of you who do not care about your weight shrug your shoulders and think - whatever. First world problems. Be that way! But most of us feel a little humiliated just hearing the story (humiliation and humility are two wildly different things).

We all have SOMETHING. We all have some trait, skill, craft, defining feature that we associate with being US. And truth be told, we like it. Other traits we hate. But is any of it real?

My daughter and I are walking the Camino this fall and I needed to update my passport. I ran into the local CVS, where they conveniently take your passport pictures. I stood there as the very nice guy took my photo (don't smile), offered me three options, and I chose my passport image. What I did NOT say to him, although I thought it, was, "Who is this OLD woman?" My neck is wrinkly, my skin pale (thanks melanoma for my sun aversion), and everything sags. And that's only my face! But here is the thing. YOUR passport photo looks fine to me, you look like you. Perfectly lovely. What's up with that?

Well, humility. It is hard. As I drove home, I thought about the Camino. The purpose of the walk and the fact that my daughter chose me to go with her. I thought about my leg, the one with the big scar that makes small children curious and prone to poking it with sticky little fingers. I remembered how for months after my melanoma surgery I walked like a pirate, trying to ease the discomfort as the stitches pulled and tugged at what little skin I had left on that shin after four surgeries in total. My grandchildren got so good at imitating my walk and an amazing pirate's cackle that I grew kind of fond of my disability. I pondered these things in my heart. They were surely not as important as Mary pondering over Jesus, but nevertheless, I gave it a good ponder.

And I realized that I was in the midst of a humbling experience. Not because I am old and pale and wrinkled and hide one of my legs most days to avoid curious questions. I am humbled because my kid sees me as I am, she knows that we may only have a few more years when we can take a fabulous trip together and she wants to get those trips in while we can. I will humbly haul out my passport as we board the plane to Portugal. The TSA agent will recognize me immediately. I am ok with that, because I can walk. Wait. That's not right. I can walk a long way for an extended period of time without a pirate's limp because; melanoma and age may be wearing me down, but I am not going down without a fight. And for an old lady, I am fit enough to walk the Camino with my girl and by golly, I am going to do so.

A Humble Faith

Over 50% of our community is comprised of men and women in early recovery. Most of them were raised by family who took them to church, enforced scripture memory, embedded in their very souls a belief in God. And they struggle with substance use disorder, co-occurring disorders, and trauma. Sure, there are some who also wrestle with believing in a Higher Power. They ask hard questions like, "Where was God when....?" And the "whens" are awful - so I respect the questioning.

But most have faith. This faith is filled with lots of expectations. They will recite the scriptures about faith and moving mountains. Even though their addiction feels like Mt. Everest, they believe that faith can and SHOULD move mountains. This is a bit of a problem because for some, in spite of their most sincere attempts to get sober, they will never see their own mountain moved. I suppose that is why I admire their faith; they have the kind of faith that believes even when it cannot be seen. There is no evidence that their faith is moving a mountain, or curing their affliction. They judge themselves for this perceived lack of faith. Occasionally someone will mention the passage about having the faith the size of a mustard seed as an acceptable standard for faith, but rarely. This judgment breaks my heart.

This is why I am so grateful for the entirety of the scriptures because God shows us what faith looks like over a large swath of history in the Bible. Take for example Judges 6. The People of Israel have gone back, yet again, to doing evil in God's sight. God put them under the domination of Midian for seven years. The mighty chosen people of God are hiding out in caves and whatnot under this awful oppression.

Then one day the angel of God comes, sits down under an oak tree, and says to Gideon, "God is with you mighty warrior!" This is a very weird thing to say, because Gideon in that current moment, cannot not muster up a seed of faith. Gideon sees himself as the, and I quote from The Message translation here, "the runt of the litter." Through a series of tests by Gideon of God, there eventually comes a day when Gideon lives into his name. He becomes a mighty warrior; he saves his people from oppression.

Gideon gives me a broader perspective on faith. He carried out the will of God without belief that he had any. God used the runt of the litter to save his misbehaving people. Because God can and will do what God wants. Faith is not about our muscles, it is not about our obedience, it is a gift. Faith is, as the scriptures also says, evidence of things not seen.

Faith is evidence that somehow, someway, God shows up and reveals himself to us in such a way that we are willing to do something different because of the way we see ourselves in relation to life. We realize that some days, we are the evidence. As evidence, we make choices that are faithful. Faith is not about us. It is about God.

So today, whatever you are doing, whoever you are being, just remember: you have an opportunity to receive a gift from God that allows you the privilege of being someone's reason to believe. Even if you are the runt of the litter.

PS. I write this blog today with a heavy heart. My friend, Lugene has for over twenty years read this blog, which used to be daily. She passed away recently, and this is the first one I have written since she headed home to God. Over the years she would send me emails about her experience with it, post it on Facebook, forward it to friends. Today, I have to muster faith to even write one; without her here, it feels so very sad to even try. Thank you Lugene for your faithfulness. My friend, I miss you.

Stop fighting things that don’t serve you

Last week I tried to talk about surrender (the 3rd principle of the 12 steps) in a way that was concrete. I did this to help myself out, to be honest, because I struggle with abstract concepts. The best I can do, surely someone out there has said this “better,” is to think of surrender as the process of stopping fighting things which don’t serve us well.

Perhaps we could think of surrendering as having a few components: the ability to recognize what isn’t serving us well and then the strength to find ways to stop engaging in whatever that thing is. One thing you could do in response to this little post, if you wanted, is to think about what isn’t serving you well right now…and then to think about whether or not you want to address that thing (or those things).

The things that don’t serve us well tend to be habits. They are things we do predictably, over and over, almost automatically. They are patterns. And, each and every one of us has patterns that are useful and patterns that are not so useful. The hard part is trying to figure out how to lean on the useful ones and how to move on from the not-so-useful ones. The following passage from Romans speaks to this, in a way.

Don’t be conformed to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you can figure out what God’s will is—what is good and pleasing and mature.

- Romans 12:2, CEB

Patterns. Who we are, as people, is shaped by our patterns. We know this from research on habits…and long before that research we knew it from Aristotle who called this “virtue.” The things that we do over and over again we’ll continue to do over and over again unless we break that cycle and form new patterns. And so the idea here is to break patterns of thinking that pull us away from God in order to replace them with things that draw us closer.

What are some of the patterns of this world? Well- these are the things our culture teaches us that pull us away from our higher way of seeing and being in the world (aka, the way of seeing and being that aligns with God’s will). Some examples from our culture include: greed, ambition, success, isolation, “strength” (aka hiding weakness and vulnerability), avoiding reliance on others, distrusting other people or groups, blame shifting, scapegoating. The list could go on and on.

What do we replace those with? I’m spitballing here, there are many things that could be said, but forgiveness grace, mercy, generosity, hospitality, warmth, acceptance, openness, love, peace, patience, kindness, and so on. There are no shortage of Godly values for us to prioritize. The hard part is figuring out how to actually do that.

In order to adopt those new patterns, you’re going to have to trust yourself. You need to pay attention to yourself and trust what you see and experience. Experiment with different wayas of chasing these values and see what actually makes a difference. See what things pull you closer to God. If you can do that, then your mind will be refreshed and renewed, you’ll be able to better discern God’s will, and better able to live a life that is both pleasing and mature.

How to surrender without giving up

We’re in a series on the principles contained within the 12 steps of AA. The third principle is surrender. This one is a bit abstract for me, I’ll confess, and sometimes I have to find a “back door” way of thinking about it in order to figure out how I would practice it. Other words that come up when we talk about surrender are things like powerlessness, letting go, even something like giving up.

When I think about these ideas, and I try to find a way to be really concrete, what comes up for me is something like this: There’s a sense in which surrender means refusing to continue fighting for something that isn’t serving us particularly well. It’s an active choice to engage the change process as opposed to an active choice to remain the same. Engaging the change process means doing things that feel hard and counterintuitive. Things that require planning, discipline, accountability, and support. There’s a lot of work that goes into it. And, because there’s a lot of work that goes into it, it feels like something we might call surrender.

This is all territory that’s pretty well-trodden, though. Let’s see if we can’t find a slightly different angle just for the sake of balance and experimentation and flexibility. Those are good things…right? Let’s start with a passage.

So, brothers and sisters, because of God’s mercies, I encourage you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice that is holy and pleasing to God. This is your appropriate priestly service.

Romans 12:1, CEB

This is a passage that can cause a lot of shame, particularly for those of us who are pretty sure we have not pleased God. However, I want to reframe that, but it’s going to take me a moment to get there. So hang with me.

One way of looking at surrender is to consider what it means to try to live a life that pleases God. The word “try” is important- perfection is never expected and, in point of fact, the whole point of Christ dying on the cross is to cover our imperfections on our behalf. Keep that in the back of your minds.

Now, we are in tricky territory when we talk about pleasing something other than ourselves. People get a bit prickly when you talk about living to please. Trying to make another human being happy is a fool’s errand and I think we’d all agree without talking much more about it. And I’m guessing some of us carry this mentality into our relationship with God. Is trying to please him unhealthy in some way? Does it mean somehow giving up important parts of ourselves?

We should know a few things. Pleasing God is not complicated. It may or may not be easy, I’m not sure, but it isn’t complicated. God’s expectations lie in trying to take care well for ourselves and others. A life that pleases God is one in which we take care of ourselves and others.

Let’s just take a step back and simplify this whole thing. Can I make a really bold proposal? I’m going to take that as a yes. One way of thinking about this is: when we are at our best, God is pleased with us. This is because when we are at our best, the best stuff happens! If you don’t believe me, consider the opposite: when you’re not at your best…what happens? You’re stressed out, you don’t think clearly, you’re more edgy, you act out, you isolate, etc. etc. When we’re at our worst…the worst stuff happens…right?

I believe the reverse is also true. When we’re at our best, we make better choices. We are more attentive to others. We have more capacity to do hard things. And in all of this, God delights.

For this reason, I suggest you think less about surrender, and even less about pleasing God, and more about what it takes for you to be at your best. Being at your best may require some really difficult work. It might involve sacrifice. It might involve asking for help. It might be painful. But, it can also be worth it in order to arrive at the best you so that the life you live pleases God so naturally you don’t even have to think about it.

Sometimes hope doesn’t feel like anything

We’ve gotten confused about what hope is. We talked about this last week, a bit. We talked about false optimism, specifically. That’s one mistake we make- thinking that hope is somehow similar to optimism. Another mistake we make is believing that hope makes us feel better…or that hope is what comes to us once we start to feel better. But, biblically, there are so many examples of hope being about what happens before someone truly believes or trust that the future might be brighter than the present. Here’s an example.

May your unfailing love be with us, Lord,

even as we put our hope in you.

~ Psalm 33:22, NIV

Here are a few things I notice about this passage. Placing hope in God seems to be an act of trust. This is the prayer of someone in a dark moment. They are not feeling hopeful about God. In fact, the act of placing hope in God seems unsettling. Because it’s so unsettling, they’re making a request: In exchange for my hope, surround me with love so that I can tolerate the challenge of placing my hope in You. That’s something, isn’t it? It’s very different than the false optimism of: I know you’re going to take care of me so I’m happy to place my hope in you.

A few other things I notice. Having hope doesn’t necessarily make us feel better. That’s why the person praying this prayer needs to be surrounded by love. Hope isn’t improving the emotional life of the pray-er. It’s more of a belief than a feeling, which suggests that hope, at least in this case, is more of a mental state than an emotional one. At the same time, that doesn’t mean we don’t receive something that helps us tolerate low hope and low belief. We do: it’s the love of God. The love of God helps us tolerate periods of low hope. And lastly, hope is a process- we are placing hope in God and trusting that doing so will have benefits. But having hope in and of itself does not immediately provide the benefit we’re looking for. That’s why we need love.

All that leads me to this: Hope is believing things can theoretically improve, even if we aren’t sure they will. Even if we’re worried they won’t. Even if our belief in the likelihood of them improving is small. And, while we’re waiting for these things to turn around or improve, love gives us the strength to carry on.