Two weeks ago, I was facedown on our shag carpet repenting to God.
I was a whole lot of sorry.
The kind of sorry for who I’d become.
As I sat there, all sorry and snotty on our shag carpet, I realized something felt off.
That sorry feeling.
It actually felt good.
My pride was falling.
My ego was drowning.
My soul was breaking.
And, it felt good.
People don’t like to talk about humility.
It’s like we’re all collectively aware humility is good.
But we hope it’s not our turn to learn it again.
And, then when we do talk about it, we swap stories about that one time when God humbled us.
Like they’re nightmares where monsters came to play.
Things we entirely want to avoid.
But, humility isn’t like that at all.
It’s used all over the Bible as a reference to something God likes the most.
Check out Proverbs.
Or every other book.
They all talk about how awesome it is.
And how it’s God’s favorite thing.
And how people who don’t do it are fools.
Got it, God.
You want it.
But, what I’ve found most peculiar about humility lately is it makes everything better.
Need a confidence boost?
Need hope again?
Need love from God like you’ve never felt before?
In the last few weeks, I’ve felt more love from the Father than at any other point in my life.
In the last few weeks, I’ve also felt more sorry than I ever have before.
This tie between love and humility.
One of my favorite books is Pride and Prejudice.
Maybe I’m just a sap.
But, dang. That literature is good.
I read it again last weekend. Again.
The oddest thing happened.
All of the sudden I could finally understand why the main character (Elizabeth) has such a tough time at seeing and receiving any of the love thrown at her.
It’s only the name of the book.
(You can dwell later on how I missed this for a decade.)
Elizabeth spends months baffled by the love of a man she cannot understand.
She spends her time frustrated by his advances and perplexed at his affections.
Until, that is, she realizes she’s been a fool.
And, has never truly seen him before.
That moment—where she’s humbled—is also the moment where she begins to take in love as it exists.
Pride is blinding.
We hear it all the time.
I never realized Elizabeth was unable to see reality.
I never thought I was blind to my favorite storyline in literature.
I never thought I was blind to Love itself.