I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. True humility is like Jesus…not a thing easily described, yet when it appears it is instantly recognizable. There is something about it that the spiritual senses pick up on. It has a sweet fragrance, a sound that awakens the heart and imagination, a pleasantly disarming demeanor; it’s something tangible, yet it can’t really be communicated easily with words. It cannot be confused with, or compared to, anything else.
Pride, the antithesis of humility, is the same way. It has an stench unique unto itself, and it smells exactly the same on everyone it has infected. It has a look, a feel all its own, and it looks and feels the same on every person: Same face; different features, hairstyles, textiles, etc. You can dress it up, doll it up, put it in the latest and most widely acclaimed fashions and accessories, but it still reeks of the same foul odor, has the same obnoxious sound to it, the same ugly, dull, dreary look. It too is easily recognizable.
Humility in its purest form is not something seen or heard all that often. Perhaps that is why it is so refreshing when it does come around. People don’t necessarily know what it is they like about the person in whom humility has been made to feel welcome and at home. I have seen truly humble people very few times in my life – in fact, I can probably count on one hand, and maybe a portion of the other, the number of times I’ve encountered such a one – and each time such an encounter has taken place, I have come away changed in some manner and for the better…not a huge slapped-up-the-side-of-the-head and turned upside down slam dunk kind of change…just a little something in me has been softly shifted – or at least an imprint has been left that might easily go unnoticed if not given special attention and care.
I have been around pride almost to the point of total saturation at various times in my life. I have emulated its mannerisms, sprayed its stinky scent on me from head to toe. I’ve dressed like it, talked like it, walked like it, I’ve tried on all its twisted expressions, and walked about with its mechanisms fastened to me, manipulating me this way and that, for extended periods of time. I’ve eaten its delicacies (that taste sweet to the tongue but turn sour in the belly) and become intoxicated on its sour mash posing as sweet fruit from the vine…and I’ve come away from it all so very empty, so very disheartened and disillusioned, each and every time.
So it seems a fork in the road lies before me. Which road will I decide to explore?
Here’s hoping that humility will find in me a favorable travel companion and eventually find within me a place to call home…yes, most sincerely hoping…