Humility and Human Connection

Humility is not thinking less of yourself;

it's thinking of yourself less.

C.S. Lewis

Let's talk about humility this morning.  Not a topic that wins a lot of views or likes, probably, but it's on the list I'm working through (see comments at the end), and the more I think about it, the more I wonder if humility may actually work more in our favour than we may realize.

First though, I'll post a link here from Psychology Today on Cultural Humility that I feel presents some solid research to explain certain dynamics behind all relational engagements, but particularly in cross-cultural settings where I find myself a lot these days.

But mostly, I'm thinking about Pastor Paul.  See, I think he's on to something with this whole humility deal.  This is from his second letter to the Corinthian Church, chapter 5:11-12.  In most Bibles, the section is given a title "The Ministry of Reconciliation," which I'll come back to in a second.

"Since, then, we know what it is to fear the Lord, we try to persuade others.  

What we are is plain to God, and I hope it is also plain to your conscience.  

We are not trying to commend ourselves to you again, 

but are giving you an opportunity to take pride in us, 

so that you can answer those who take pride in what is seen 

rather than what is in the heart."

2 Corinthians is a favourite of mine, which is odd because it’s largely Paul’s defense as to why he should be considered a legit apostle, and sometimes, as you read through it, if you do it in one sitting, you catch his annoyed tone.  Sort of underneath his words this thought, “I mean, really?  Are we still talking about this?”

And yet…there is still the pastoral heart so evident.  Pastor Paul really loved his peeps. 

In this section in 2 Corinthians 5, he’s having to prove himself again, but ironically, he’s going to couch it around this idea of reconciliation.  Specifically, what he’s going to call the ministry of reconciliation, and he’ll use the term ambassadors.

Ambassadors of reconciliation.  We all have, according to Paul anyways, been given the ministry of reconciliation.

This is where we get to the humility part.  Because....what if humility is a key to human connectivity; to the sharing of ideas and perspectives?  What if we actually might be more persuasive, more reconciliatory by our humility? 

And in verse 12 he says, “we’re not trying to commend ourselves.”

Which has to be really tempting for him to do, since he’s been put in this position of having to try to defend his role as an apostle. 

Add to that the fact that not commending himself would be completely counter to the Greco-Roman culture into which he was writing.  Walking around reciting your resume to impress others was considered the only way to make it in that world.  Status was everything.

Oh, how tempting it is to commend ourselves!  Prove ourselves.

Especially when we’re drawn into an argument. 

Deep down, we want to win.

We want to be right.

We want to be smarter, better, wiser than the clearly incorrect and misinformed folks who don’t share our opinion.  )(Oooh, did I say that out loud?)

Maybe it's an occupational hazard, but in this current religious-political environment I’ve been drawn into some really combative conversations that, I swear, I didn’t start.  Honestly.   And often as not, I end up feeling a tad insulted.   And then, if I sit in that even for a second I find myself getting all defensive.  Wanting to pull out my credentials, if I have any that matter in the issue.

But Paul doesn't do that.  So, what if we didn't either?  What if we approached potentially combative conversations with the true and humble acknowledgement that - brace yourself - we don’t know everything?  What if being right isn't the most important thing?  What if being open to other hearts is?

I don't mean we should abandon our deep convictions.  We can hold to honest ideas and beliefs faithfully.  It's not about being tossed about on matters that mean a lot and do indeed require thoughtful debate and definitive landing points.  Yet humility allows us to build the bridges, restore the connections, pull us together.  Because when we're humble, we're listening.  Honestly.

And who knows? Maybe something new will come to light, we'll change our minds on something, or at the very least, be better able to come alongside those who think differently.

There's more, of course.  Because it's humility that also allows us to ask for help, seek forgiveness, and change harmful behaviours.  It's humility that allows us to give others the benefit of the doubt and refrain from judgement.  And it's humility that opens the door for the deeper kinds of formation in our souls.  All of which are essential pieces to the assignment of being ambassadors of reconciliation.

Come to think of it, the people I feel most connected to, the ones I am most eager to work with, and in whose presence I feel most at ease have no hint of arrogance.  They are known and admired because of their humility.  Ambassadors usually do present with high degrees of matured humility.

Anyways, just some hopefully humble thoughts on the matter.  

This is one of the best features of growing older, I think; that there's always so much to learn and become.

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Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first. 

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved,

clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness,

humility, gentleness and patience.

Colossians 3:12

Pictured is the humble milkweed, which we know isn't all flashy in itself, but oh the attraction for monarch butterflies!

Glory Laid By

The carols are so familiar, I'd miss the oomph if I wasn't careful.

On Sunday, it was "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," and the phrase "Mild, He lays His glory by."

It's such an outrageous part of the story, really. That God, very God, the same God that spoke everything into being, the same God that is all-powerful, all-knowing, present everywhere, would chose, in this way, to stuff Himself into time and space, and come down to us...as a baby!

Not as a mighty warrior, or stately king. Not as a superstar or political leader or any other iteration of power.

But as a baby. Helpless. Mild.

I don't have to go too far to bump into the wonder of this. All it takes for me is for someone to, oh say dismiss my Master's degree because it didn't come from the 'right' school. Or call me the 'token woman' on a leadership team. Or mistake me for the secretary when I was the pastor. Or, let's face it, given the right circumstances, I can be less than "mild" if someone cuts me off in traffic.

You might have your own list. The common denominator in all of it is that somehow we feel our 'importance' has been demeaned, or our 'rights' have not been respected, and how dare they?

Mild, He lays His glory by.

In what is considered to likely be one of the first hymns of the early Church, we find these oomph-filled words.

"Who being in very nature God
did not consider equality with God
something to be used to His own advantage.
Rather, He made Himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness."
Philippians 2:6-7

Mild, He lays His glory by.

So now I've gone and done it. Pretty sure the day is going to be filled with opportunities to lay any little bits of glory by.

Okay, bring it on.
Let's see where the mildness takes me.

Observing the Sun-Fast

 

Yesterday afternoon, working contently at my computer, I happened to glance over my right shoulder and out the window.

Gasp! What was all that bright goodness out there????

Sunshine!!!! Yes!!!!

I don't even think I finished the sentence I was writing. Like a wild thing, I scrambled to layer on the clothes and get myself out there before it disappeared.

I was not disappointed. Yes! I so need this!
These days I find every cell of my body,
every neuron in my brain,
every bit of cold O2 sucked into my lungs,
even my very soul,
is hungry, hungry, hungry for the sun.

Longings are good things I think.
They help us be grateful.
Guard against taking anything at all for granted.
Keep us humble.
Help us prioritize our lives.
Remind us of what's most important.
Remind us that we are not in charge.

And while a true fast is usually something we choose for ourselves, I've been trying to interact with these long dark days in a similar way. A sun-fast, if you will. Not on purpose, but with just as much to offer in terms of spiritual perspective and the opportunity to be formed more and more into the image of the Jesus I claim to follow.

On Sunday at Highview we sang:
I need You, Oh I need You.
Every hour I need You.
My one defense, my righteousness
O Lord how I need You."

Yes. Like I need the sunshine after days without.
Desperate.

"As the deer pants for streams of water,
so my soul pants for you, my God."
Psalm 42:1

Desperate longings.

May I never fall into complacency, Lord!
I need You.

Wishing you vibrancy, and longing, and deeper things this Tuesday.

Let's Talk About It

"Let your conversation be always full of grace,

seasoned with salt,

so that you know how to answer everyone."

Colossians 4:6

Came across a Ted Talk the other day that struck me as powerful in its simplicity. In about ten minutes, Celeste Headlee, an American radio journalist, author, public speaker, and co-host of a weekly series on PBS with 20 years of experience, lays down "10 Ways to Have a Better Conversation."

I'll leave the link at the bottom so you can take a look at it yourself. Well worth the time in my opinion, but will leave that to you.

Since communication is so important to me, and I am always, always striving to do this better, in various forms and forums, Headlee's focus on some of the basic attitudinal transactions within every conversation give me plenty to think about.

This one I love.

"Assume you have something to learn."

Every person, she reminds us, knows something you don't. In every conversation, there's something someone can teach you.

I love the humility and honesty of that. I love how it switches the focus from how I might want to impress someone (come on, we all do this all the time, so much so they have a name for it: Image Management) to how I might want to let them impress me (what a concept!). I love the connectivity of this, the curiosity, the way it opens up more possibilities relationally. The opportunity it brings to encourage and lift up the other.

And, in fact, I've found this to be true. Especially and particularly when I'm engaging with people who are very different from me. Different lifestyles, different cultures, different political opinions, different theologies.

There's just so much to learn out there, and every person we come across has something that could enrich us. Hopefully, if the conversation goes well and there's the balance of back-and-forth, we just might enrich them too.

Every day the news depicts a world deeply divided. Is it too simplistic to believe that perhaps we'd be more united if we just knew how to have better conversations?

So on this very rainy Tuesday morning - when I'm NOT out walking - I wish you a day full of fabulous conversations.

Can't wait to see what new things we can learn today.

And how that might bring us closer.

10 Ways to Have Better Conversations 

Presume to Teach

Here’s that stack-of-books picture that all us preacher/teacher types like to post from time to time.  

I think we think it makes us look smart or important; or at least we hope it is proof of our invisible work and justifies all the time we’ve sequestered ourselves in our offices (or at the cottage).

I’ve just come off a teaching-intensive kind of summer.  Just measuring Sundays alone, of the nine weeks between June 23 and September 1, I’ve been ‘off’ two Sundays only.  Not all of that involved teaching, but the bulk of it did. 

Every sermon is researched and a thesis statement is constructed, delivery is rehearsed, and then there’s the sermon itself.  Many have Power Points or other visual assists to prepare.  While in Thailand the teaching component becomes a daily thing, with curriculum development, learning objectives, lesson plans, and themed teaching manipulatives.  Coming home from Thailand, I’ve hidden myself away at the cottage in unscheduled seclusion to prepare for the next run of sermons, both in Canada and in Thailand, as well as a month of Bible and ESL lessons, again with the kids at Hot Springs in October.

I checked off the last prep task this morning, and had this sobering realization.

 “Whoa!  That’s a LOT of teaching!” 

Last fall when I dug deep into a Directed Reading and Research credit on Cross Cultural Teaching, I felt like, in the Christian Education bibliography, I found again my ‘tribe’.  Seems all my life I’ve been teaching in some capacity or another.   There’s so much passion and joy in this for me.  But also.

Really, who do I think I am?  What a preposterous presumption!  The seriousness of this weighs heavy sometimes, like the load of books I’ll soon be packing to take back to the city with me.   I know I’m not alone in this.  Any teacher with a conscience understands this sense of weighted audacity.

I am reminded of this around a lively lunch table just a few days ago, which included another lady preacher and so the conversation came around to what constitutes ‘strong’ preaching.   I had a few thoughts to add to the mix, but they were tempered by previous conversations I’ve had earlier this year with another vigorous group to which I belong, who in the course of our discussion had laid out a robust rubric for sermons.  In that conversation, which I appreciated very much, I had felt like I didn’t quite measure up. 

Then, of course, when you put yourself out there, you invite ‘feedback’, or ‘constructive criticism’ or whatever it is you might want to call those often off hand comments just after or even just before you get up to preach.   “Thank you for letting me know your thoughts.  I will take that into consideration.”

And I will.  Deeply, in fact.  Because we’re sensitive like that, us preacher/teacher types, sometimes causing us to stack up  pile of books and take a picture to post if we get the chance.

In his cautions about how we can misuse words, teacher/preacher James takes a direct line to speak to the weight of this matter.

“Not many of your should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.  We all stumble in many ways.  Anyone who is never at fault in what they say is perfect, able to keep their whole body in check.”  James 3:1-2

I think James, who by the way had pretty impressive credentials (besides having written one of the books included in our New Testatment!), has nailed it.  Stay humble.  Be ever mindful.  With many words comes the opportunity for many “stumblings” (in other places in his letter, he’ll outright call this sin). 

It’s a brutal task, but necessary, this self-awareness, honest self-critiquing thing.   Sometimes I wonder if the most responsible thing to do about it is just quit.  Which I will do, if the people I’ve put in my life to keep in check and help me decide these matters agree that it’s time. 

But for now I’m simply packing up to go home.  And like so many teachers preparing classrooms right about now, I’ll presume to move forward, presume I might have something to offer, presume that God might be able to take whatever loaves and fishes I’ve been able to pack, and feed the gathered people somehow.