And on the twelfth day of the Great Love Assignment, the good Lord taught me…that pride comes in various forms.
Yesterday, when I finished typing, I noticed that I said “I have a bit of smug pride that wells up…” and then I realized that today’s chunk of verse is about pride. Love is not proud.
It’s been a hard week to be proud – and in that way, my pride has taken a beating. The things I usually take pride in have fallen to the wayside, and because of that, my ego remains a bit bruised. Perhaps God had a hand in bringing those things to a halt – even if only temporarily – to get me to realize the problem that they are.
Take my yard for example. I live in a neighborhood where yard work does not top the lists of things to do for most of my neighbors. As a result, my yard is typically the shortest. I’m happiest when you can see the lines from the fresh mowing job. As soon as they begin to fade – it’s time to mow. Last week, it was so dry, the grass didn’t grow, so I didn’t mow. This week it hasn’t stopped raining, so I haven’t been able to mow. And my pride suffers a beating every time I pull up to the house and see the weeds sprouting next to the foundation and the blatant absence of mower lines. I want to post a note of apology for the condition of the yard. And it’s all just because my pride doesn’t like it.
But then that tells me that I am a little too smug about the looks of the grass. In truth, when I mow, I love to sit back and survey how much shorter my yard is than the neighbors’ – and I think, “Man, this looks good. Look at how hard I’ve worked – compared to these other people who don’t make the time." Bad Bekah.
And then there’s the inside of the house. I love for everything to be in its designated place. But a small bout of sickness and large bouts of work have brought my housecleaning to a screeching halt. I’m desperately hoping no one drops by, because I don’t want to have to explain the pile of papers on the end of the dining room table, or the string of lights still unattached to the ficus tree, or the refrigerator that needs not just a once-over, but a quadruple-over!
All of that – just because I’m too proud to admit that I’ve packed my schedule too full and I don’t have time to take care of the basics. Too proud to admit that I’m tired when I come home from work and sneak in a nap instead of doing housework.
What does any of this have to do with love?
Well, my brain is so jumbled right now from the day that all I can think of are examples about my house and yard, but I know that if I’m too proud about what I have and what I do – I start comparing myself to others – and that just drags them down in my mind. And how can I love them if I’m dragging them down? And if I let my pride over those things stand in my way, I’m going to be too stubborn to love – or to allow myself to be loved. And what good does that do?
So it’s the battle of the prides. Either one will keep me from loving to my fullest potential. And maybe that is why God has allowed this to be a rainy, busy, sickness filled week – because now I’m able to see where I need to work!
Yesterday, when I finished typing, I noticed that I said “I have a bit of smug pride that wells up…” and then I realized that today’s chunk of verse is about pride. Love is not proud.
It’s been a hard week to be proud – and in that way, my pride has taken a beating. The things I usually take pride in have fallen to the wayside, and because of that, my ego remains a bit bruised. Perhaps God had a hand in bringing those things to a halt – even if only temporarily – to get me to realize the problem that they are.
Take my yard for example. I live in a neighborhood where yard work does not top the lists of things to do for most of my neighbors. As a result, my yard is typically the shortest. I’m happiest when you can see the lines from the fresh mowing job. As soon as they begin to fade – it’s time to mow. Last week, it was so dry, the grass didn’t grow, so I didn’t mow. This week it hasn’t stopped raining, so I haven’t been able to mow. And my pride suffers a beating every time I pull up to the house and see the weeds sprouting next to the foundation and the blatant absence of mower lines. I want to post a note of apology for the condition of the yard. And it’s all just because my pride doesn’t like it.
But then that tells me that I am a little too smug about the looks of the grass. In truth, when I mow, I love to sit back and survey how much shorter my yard is than the neighbors’ – and I think, “Man, this looks good. Look at how hard I’ve worked – compared to these other people who don’t make the time." Bad Bekah.
And then there’s the inside of the house. I love for everything to be in its designated place. But a small bout of sickness and large bouts of work have brought my housecleaning to a screeching halt. I’m desperately hoping no one drops by, because I don’t want to have to explain the pile of papers on the end of the dining room table, or the string of lights still unattached to the ficus tree, or the refrigerator that needs not just a once-over, but a quadruple-over!
All of that – just because I’m too proud to admit that I’ve packed my schedule too full and I don’t have time to take care of the basics. Too proud to admit that I’m tired when I come home from work and sneak in a nap instead of doing housework.
What does any of this have to do with love?
Well, my brain is so jumbled right now from the day that all I can think of are examples about my house and yard, but I know that if I’m too proud about what I have and what I do – I start comparing myself to others – and that just drags them down in my mind. And how can I love them if I’m dragging them down? And if I let my pride over those things stand in my way, I’m going to be too stubborn to love – or to allow myself to be loved. And what good does that do?
So it’s the battle of the prides. Either one will keep me from loving to my fullest potential. And maybe that is why God has allowed this to be a rainy, busy, sickness filled week – because now I’m able to see where I need to work!
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