True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.
-C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you.
Jesus, John 13: 14-15
It’s easy to feel ostracized these days. In our days of extreme connectivity and everlasting wi-fi so we basically have no EXCUSE to not be connected to something somewhere, it actually highlights the ever-widening distance between ourselves and others. Lonely, left out, overlooked. If we don’t fit the profile, we can spend so much time running to catch up, trying to fit in, trying to hide our flaws. If we can hide just enough, maybe, just maybe we will find acceptance and community and be free to share our passions and talents. Inside the church or outside of it, online or offline, home or work, it can be so hard to find our place.
But what if we embraced our loneliness and our inability to be enough? What if we let go of the gnawing need to be seen and heard and surrounded by understanding people? What if we gave up our pride even a little bit? What if, as C.S. Lewis says, we simply thought of ourselves less?
I think that we would find ourselves in a place of freedom and creativity and confidence we cannot even imagine.
Humility makes good things happen; humility makes good things possible.
When Jesus washed his disciples’ feet before his crucifixion and resurrection, he became a servant. He gave his disciples a glimpse of what it meant to be the Messiah, the Chosen One to save all humanity. So that they would understand, he became a literal servant. Vulnerable by taking off his outer garments, he wrapped a humble towel around his waist that would be his clothing and also a way to serve these men, his own. He showed them what it meant to love, which was his new commandment. To love means to serve, means to lower yourself to love others. It means, as Fenelon says in Let Go, to love obscurity and humility. Paul says in Phillipians we can look to our own interests, of course, but we also are called to multitask and look out for others.
If we see others, even our own family in Christ, as more significant, our lives will be in balance, in the proper order. This is only possible when we are confident in who we are as chosen people. Before Jesus picked up the towel and humbled himself, he knew who he was. He knew that God had given him all things and that He was returning to the Father—this knowledge is what enabled him and freed him to take on a very humiliating job in any household at the time. This knowledge made it possible to show the love of God to these men, these chosen ones.
Knowing who we are, then, will also free us to seek humility and obscurity. Knowing who we are will free us to fully love. Just as Christ knew who he was and to whom he belonged, we can be confident enough to love being offstage, to love being in the backseat, to being behind the scenes. The commandment to love our brothers and sisters in Christ is no small task or easy thing to take on. Families are messy and full of countering personalities and annoying habits and frustrating quirks. And yet, this is how the world will know that we are Christ’s—that we love each other. This is what will make the world sit up and take notice. This is what will make the world sing.
The hardest thing of all, to lay down our natural and human pride, is what will make the world see the truth of Christ. Not our programs and institutes, not our lists of To-Dos and Not-To-Dos, not our activities and accomplishments. Not if we live a purpose driven life, pray the prayer of Jabez or refute the latest Da Vinci Code type novel. Not if we vote for the right candidate. You can live the messiest life in the world, you can totally not have your crap together, but if you love. Oh, if you love. The smallest things will shine the brightest light. The parables of Jesus, how he told the world what He and the Father were all about, all renamed the small things as the big things. Treasure hidden in a field. A widow giving all she had to the poor, and it being more than what others gave out of their abundance. Someone selling all they have to buy one small invaluable pearl. Servants taking what their master gives them and turning it into exponentially more.
Jesus, of course, lived this out while he was here. He did not come to the world in obvious royalty, like a Prince George or a Princess Charlotte or a North West. He didn’t come in all the glory and protection of the temple. He was a poor son of a carpenter, lived out most of his days in menial and physical labor. And even when his time of ministry came, he didn’t spend it among the influential or the rich or the purposeful or those full of promise. He spent it among the marginalized, the sick, the poor, the prostitutes, the fishermen, the weak, the crowds with nothing to offer; basically, with people like you and me. He healed those who didn’t appear to have anything to give the world even if they were healed. So that the glory of God could be shown in their lives.
He came to you, in your specific time in history, in your specific set of circumstances to show you love. He came to you, to tell you are chosen and safe, that you can be part of a big, wonderful, crazy family. He came to you, to tell you that you can reflect the very glory of God in your life, in your face, in all you have to offer, even in all your limitations.
This, this is more than enough reason to seek humility, to seek to love fully. When we are rooted and grounded in God’s love, we will have no need to feverishly seek pride, position, the next thing. We can be content where we are, who we are with, and with what is front of us, knowing that we are safe and sound and being guided by perfect love. We can truly mourn with those who mourn, and fully rejoice with those who rejoice. We can practice hospitality out of a full and thankful heart, no matter how small or unimportant or left out we might feel at times. We know that, like Paul says in Colossians, our life is hidden in Christ and someday when he appears again, we will also appear with him in glory. And for now, while we see as in a mirror dimly and being loving and humble doesn’t always make sense, let us remember that we are obediently following in the footsteps of our loving Savior who never asks us to do anything he hasn’t already done, who sees and notes all that we do for him, and that somehow love always turns into its own reward.
