How does my own pride darken my
light?
What are my prideful ways and
how can I be aware of them?
Perhaps like everyone else, I don’t think about being
prideful often. I mean, I don’t feel
like I have a problem with pride. But
surely there are prideful ways. Pride
is:
a high or inordinate opinion of one's own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.
a becoming or dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or character; self-respect;
self-esteem.
pleasure or satisfaction taken in something done by or belonging to oneself or
believed to reflect credit upon oneself: civic pride.
Those don’t seem too negative, except for the inordinate
opinion of oneself or superiority. I think when we talk about pride as a sin,
it is conceit, vanity, vainglory, and egotism, etc. Thinking too highly of oneself, especially to
overlook faults that ought to be addressed, or believing that one deserves
certain privileges and getting upset if they are not provided, or comparing
others’ worst with one’s own best are all elements of “pride” that certainly
damn one. I don’t particularly struggle
with any of those, though. I look
poignantly at my own failings (I’ve had to learn to be kinder to myself), and
am grateful for the blessings of home, health, children, gospel, finances that
I have. I know it could be otherwise and
may still be otherwise. I try to act
wisely to keep the blessings I have, but I know they are not my “right.” I
guess that I am too quick to judge others at times. Usually, though, I give the benefit of the
doubt as long as I can, and then feel
confused about what to think more than jumping to conclusions.
Oh, what are my prideful ways? I like to look nice, but not
enough to wear makeup, or a bra, or do my hair much. I like to be talented, but
I feel sort of like my talents have been buried for about 12 years. Even my dreams for myself—of someday being a
famous writer or even well-known—have changed.
Now I feel content to do what good I can in the lives around me,
quietly.
Perhaps it is pride that has slowed by progress on writing
my grandfather’s biography? I want it to be good writing—worthwhile and with a
voice, and I’m not sure I have that down,
yet. But really, I want that
simply because I don’t want to write junk, and I want him to like it, too. Perhaps I need to realize the first draft is
just a first draft, and get it down and then get some insight from others. . .
It seems to me like my lack of pride (pleasure or
satisfaction in something well done) is more of a challenge when it comes to
letting my light shine. Maybe if I
believed in myself a little more and focused on faults a little less, I would
shine brighter. I recently came across
the quote (again) by Marianne Williamson “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that
we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most
frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented,
fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your
playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about
shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant
to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that
is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our
own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates
others.”
I don’t know if that quote is true/accurate. I think sometimes it is the small ways that
make the most difference, and that when we follow God’s will and seem to be
“playing small,” he can magnify that work and make a great thing out of
it. I am certainly one to talk about my
faults, with the understanding that it creates a certain bond with the other
imperfect people around me. I don’t
know. I think I can be powerful beyond
measure, and have that power channeled into mothering, teaching, serving, and
thereby manifest the glory of God. I
don’t believe I have to be Margaret Thatcher (we just watched “Iron Lady” last
night) or Mother Theresa to serve the world. I ask in my morning prayer “how
can I participate in the work of salvation today?” and so far, it has been in
little ways: writing a thank you note or helping a sister in need or focusing
on my children or doing visiting teaching.
Sometimes it is even things like writing my Mother’s retreat
Journal. Sometimes I fear that I’ve
failed at the big things God might have had me do, and that is why it is only small
things now. I do fear that. Perhaps I’ve messed up what might have been. But “what might have been” is something I’ll
(mercifully) never know, so all I can do is work from where I am. And I am.
