How I Was Wrong About Humility

If you've been a citizen of Western Evangelical Christianity for any length of time, you're probably well familiar with the concept of humility.

"God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble."

"Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord and He shall lift you up."

"For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

We've all heard those verses and many more. We've also heard countless stories from the pulpit about the rewards of humility, of not thinking more of ourselves than we should.

And we've all certainly heard about the destructive consequences of pride, the antithesis of humility. So I grew up trying to be humble, doing my best to avoid having pride in my heart.

This, unsurprisingly, led to me being unable to take a compliment, even if I did something well. It led to me being unrelentingly self-deprecating, partly for the laughs but mostly due to the fear of what would happen if I let myself be proud of who I am.

But what's really funny is that at the same time I was being taught the benefits of being humble, I was also being taught the importance of certainty. Somehow, religion taught me that certainty was synonymous with faith and therefore the enemy of doubt. If I was not certain, I had doubt. If I had doubt, my faith was weak.

It seemed that those Christians with the most certainty were celebrated as the most spiritual. I grew up with the idea that spiritual maturity meant you had more answers than questions, more certainty than doubt, more faith than unbelief.

I believe we've created a very destructive idea of what it is to be a "good Christian". People are taught to think little of themselves but to have a dogmatic certainty and an unwillingness to entertain doubt when it comes to their beliefs. Does that sound like the kind of person any of us want to be around? Someone ill-equipped to engage in dialogue due to the crushing weight of their insecurities and fears, taught that what matters most is to be proven right? To have their self-worth determined by their ability to silence the honest questions of their minds?

I think I'm learning that humility and certainty cannot easily co-exist, not in this context at least. I think a large part of humility is having the courage to say "I don't know". It's not a matter of just putting myself down, it's the decision to honestly engage my doubts. Maybe real humility has more kindness for ourselves and for others. Maybe real humility has more to do with the grace that allows us to wrestle with doubt, with the God who is bigger than all our best dogma and theology, with the ability to be proud of ourselves without becoming prideful, with the tenderness and compassion to walk with hurting people who need a friend and not another Bible verse.

Maybe real humility is the ability to accept Father's extravagant love without assuming we've earned it or resisting it because we feel unworthy. As we learn to accept his boundless love and grace given without condition or restraint, I think we then begin to learn how to love in the same way. We learn to love in a way that leaves room for questions and doubts; we find ourselves willing to step outside the confines of certainty to explore the greater space of mystery and wonder.

So maybe that's a really long answer to a question you never asked, but that's what I think about humility.