It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.
He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” John 13:1-8
In my previous two posts I identified that one of the greatest threats to spiritual vitality is the presence of pride. If left unchecked, pride begins to invade every aspect of our lives including our life with God. Clearly, pride is something that needs to be rooted out of us. So how does that happen? What has to take place in order for pride to loosen its grip on us?
As you might expect, the remedy to our pride doesn’t come easily. In our pride we will do whatever is necessary to protect ourselves even wrapping ourselves in religiosity in order to avoid having to confront the pride within. Nevertheless, there is way out if we are willing to take it.
We have to face our prideful nature.
I remember reading about a conversation an airline flight attendant once had with Mohammed Ali when he was young and arrogant at the beginning of his boxing career. Ali was on a plane and refused to fasten his seat belt. The flight attendant asked him to buckle up, but he continued to refuse and told her, “Superman don’t need no seat belt.” She looked at him and retorted, “Superman don’t need no plane.”
That’s what I mean about facing our own prideful nature. We all have some distorted thinking about ourselves. We think we’re smarter than we really are, more committed than we really are, more justified than we really are, and sadly, more spiritual than we really are. Until we face this and admit it to ourselves, pride will keep its strangle hold on us.
Peter had to come to this. Every part of him was resistant to Jesus’ invitation to wash his feet. Yet Jesus invitation was clear. If he was to continue with Jesus, he would have to relent and allow Jesus to do it. Thankfully, he yielded. So must we.
We have to prepare for an extended battle with pride.
We’d like to think that all we have to do is to confess our prideful sin, experience the cleansing work of Jesus and be done with it. But it doesn’t work that way. While we can rejoice in the breakthrough in Peter’s life in allowing Jesus to wash his feet, it would not be his last battle with pride. There was the time when he overestimated his ability to be faithful to Jesus only to later deny that he even knew him. And even after the resurrection, we see Peter struggling over his sense of religious/racial pride as he resisted going to the home of a Gentile. In each case, Peter yielded. So must we. For this is a long and difficult battle.
We have to engage in the spiritual discipline of serving.
This reminds us that the best way to train our souls against pride is to put it in situations where the attention is on another. One of the best ways to do that is through serving others. Richard Foster put it this way,
Nothing disciplines the inordinate desires of the flesh like service, and nothing transforms the desires of the flesh like serving in hiddenness. The flesh whines against service but screams against hidden service. It strains and pulls for honor and recognition. It will devise subtle, religiously acceptable means to call attention to the service rendered. If we stoutly refuse to give in to this lust of the flesh, we crucify it. Every time we crucify the flesh, we crucify our pride and arrogance.
This was the lesson Jesus tried to teach Peter shortly after the resurrection. If Peter really loved Him, he would best show it by feeding His sheep. Such a serving action would help deliver Peter from his prideful ways.
We have to learn to value the joy of humility.
Each of the gospels contains the story of Peter’s tragic denial of Jesus. The only way that would have happened is for Peter to have admitted it to his fellow disciples. One can only wonder how difficult that was for him. And yet through it he would learn the value of humility and the joy it brings. For in his first letter he would write, “All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, ‘God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.’”
Humility then is a powerful antidote to pride. Because the essence of humility, as C.S. Lewis described it, “is not thinking more of myself or thinking less of myself, it is thinking of myself less.” And when we allow humility to permeate our souls, we begin to experience joy not in our accomplishments or status, but in our ability to bless others.
Marion Anderson was such a person. She was an African American who won and deserved worldwide acclaim as a concert soloist. Yet despite her many achievements, she remained a very gracious and approachable person.
In fact, a reporter once interviewed Miss Anderson and asked her to name the greatest moment in her life, and she had a lot to choose from. For example:
• the night that Arturo Toscanini announced, “A voice like hers comes but once a century.”
• the time in 1955 she when was the first black American to sing with the Metropolitan Opera in New York City.
• the moment in 1956 when her autobiography, My Lord, What A Morning, was published and became a best seller.
• the evening when she gave a private concert at the White House for the Roosevelts and the King and Queen of England.
• the day in 1963 she when was awarded the coveted Presidential Medal of Freedom.
• the Easter Sunday where she stood beneath the Lincoln Memorial and sang to a crowd of 75,000 which included Cabinet members, Supreme Court Justices, and most of the members of congress.
Which of those moments did she choose? None of them. Instead Miss Anderson quietly told the reporter that the greatest moment of her life was the day she went home and told her mother she wouldn’t have to take in washing any more.
Marion Anderson had every reason to rejoice in her many achievements, but she was too humble to do that. No amount of public acclaim could cause her to forget that her mother took in washing to put food on the table and a roof over her head. The thing that brought her the most joy was being able to help her mother. And by that choice pride lost even more of a grip on her soul.
May the same be true for all of us.
