(Luke 14:1, 7-14)
Most of us generally don’t go around tooting our own horns. There are a few exceptions, of course, but even if we do tend to think pretty highly of ourselves, we know better than to openly express it in conversations with others. We know how that comes off and it isn’t a good look in social situations.
In the parable Jesus told in Luke 14, what is our takeaway? Does the parable serve simply to validate for us that letting others know how highly we think of ourselves in social situations is taboo, and not worth the risk of back-firing? Jesus painted a mortifying picture of what could happen to the party guest who jumps right to the place of honor. “When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, ‘Give this person your seat.’ Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place” (v.8-9).
Imagine being called out like that in a room full of people! We would want to crawl under a rock and die! So what is the real reason we’d avoid doing such a thing? Let’s be honest. Would it be our own genuine humility prompting us to avoid taking the best seat in the house, or would it more likely be prompted by our fear of being publicly humiliated?
While we’re pretty good at hiding our lack of humility before others, a little more detective work on ourselves ends up showing our true colors. Here’s what I mean. In the parable Jesus told, very few of us would actually take the place of honor, because in that context, doing so would put us under the microscope. When you show up at a wedding reception, for example, you don’t go grab a seat at the head table with the rest of the bridal party. Rather, you find your assigned seat. That kind of a situation is a no-brainer.
But what do we do in any other situation without assigned seating, when we’re anonymous, or when others aren’t paying attention? We look for the best seat. We want the best view possible. We want to be closest to our kid. We got there first. We…we… we. Me… me… me…
So we might think ourselves pretty good at hiding our lack of genuine humility in some social settings where our actions are under scrutiny. However, whenever it’s a free-for-all, we don’t even bat an eye at going for the best spot (and, we even have our own mental list of justifications for doing so!). My point is not that it’s wrong or sinful to want or pursue the best or ideal spot at times; rather, it just shows our default mode of who we’re really putting first in our lives: me… me… me.
Odd, isn’t it, that we don’t arrive at our kids’ game, identify the best seat, and then immediately look for a lesser seat so that someone else can have the good one we just found? When we pull into a crowded parking lot and manage to score a spot close to the entrance, we don’t keep on driving right past it and make our way to the far side of the lot so that we can keep those prime spots open for other more deserving drivers (Costco, anyone?).
Why don’t we naturally do those things? Because even though we may be pretty good at masking our outward actions to hide our lack of humility in situations when others might notice, our natural innate efforts at looking to be first or for the best spot reveal much more about what we really think of ourselves in our own hearts.
Why does this matter of humility rub us the wrong way so much? Because it opposes our natural senses. Success, advancement, promotion – all of these things in every area of life come as a result of hard work. Achievement. Effort. We are used to getting ahead and moving forward on the basis of our own merit. We recognize and value progress and productivity.
And, on the other hand, we don’t celebrate mediocrity, stagnation, or the status quo – and we certainly don’t celebrate decline or regression. The habitually late and mistake-prone worker isn’t going to be nominated for employee of the month. They don’t give Golden Globes or Grammys for shows no one watches or albums no one listens to. Those who fail to perform fail to get noticed.
We might think we know better as Christians, right? We know we aren’t saved by our performance, but by grace. Faith in Jesus – not, “job well done” – is the basis of our confidence.
But why then does a Christian struggle so much when surrounded by other Christians who “aren’t very Christian?” Why do we so often seek to make ourselves feel better about our Christian walk not by personal confession and absolution, but by comparing ourselves to other “underperforming” Christians? Because I need others to know that I’m something, I’m someone. Because deep down inside I think I’m something, I’m someone.
What we fail to realize is that even our own identification or classification of “underperforming” Christians isn’t just a judgment or assessment of them, but also an assessment of ourselves as the standard of measurement. Whenever we spot an “underperforming” Christian, we are making that judgment in comparison to how we are performing.
While we may not think about it that way, when is the last time you disapproved of someone you considered to be a “better” Christian than you? When did you look down on a Christian you considered to be more sanctified than you? It doesn’t happen, does it? So the struggle with the lack of humility is every bit as challenging for Christians as it is anyone else.
That’s really what Jesus was showing in his first parable. As he stated, “all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (v.11). Anyone who lacks humility – even Christians – will eventually be humiliated one way or another. So Jesus wants us to know something that is so important about humility that we can never really deal with it unless we are aware: the problem with a lack of humility is always a heart problem.
While that may not be as clear in his first parable, it is more evident in the second teaching he provided to the host of the gathering he was attending. “Then Jesus said to his host, ‘When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid’” (v.12). Jesus was not telling his host he could never have his friends, family, or even the wealthy over for dinner. That was not his point. Rather, he was speaking to the motivation for inviting such guests. If you have ulterior motives for inviting such guests over, thinking that it may pay dividends for you in the future, is that motivated by humility or pride?
On the other hand, consider the alternative guest list that Jesus encouraged. “But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed.” (v.13-14a). To include this category of guests is to get much closer to humility, because inviting the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind is to not see them as poor, crippled, lame, or blind, but simply to see them as guests. Pride would have nothing to do with such a guest list, because it wouldn’t waste time with those it viewed as inferior or insignificant. Humility, however, is honored to have any guests to host and to humbly serve.
That’s what makes humility such a struggle. It isn’t a code we can crack. It isn’t something we can figure out. It isn’t a five-step process. It’s much simpler than that, and much harder at the same time. Jesus’ call for our humility shows us that we aren’t. We aren’t humble by nature. We can’t achieve humility by just putting in more effort.
That’s because what we are by nature is prideful. And when that’s what we are, then we need more than just a self-help program to turn things around. We need more than a few healthy habits or quick hacks to achieve humility. To make sure the only humiliation we ever experience is here and now, and not the eternal humiliation when God permanently turns away the proud, pride needs to be put to death. It needs to be killed.
And that is exactly what happened on the cross. “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires” (Galatians 5:24). “With its passions and desires” includes the pride that is so passionate about self. That, too, was crucified along with Christ. And what does it mean to be crucified? It means death. Killed. Dead. Christ, who alone qualified as perfectly humble, assumed our pride, took it on himself, and was nailed to the cross with it in our place. What Jesus did – the greatest achievement ever – was not for his own recognition, but for our salvation. The sin of pride has been paid for. That part of us has died.
Why allow it to be resurrected then in our hearts again? It’s dead. Let it stay dead. How? Not by trying harder and harder to be more humble, but by relying more and more on God. See then, humility isn’t a matter of trying to be more humble, but rather relying more on God. Reliance on God results in humility, but not because I’m thinking more of my own humility; rather, because I’m focused more on my good and gracious Savior and his righteousness that is mine only by faith. Humility is simply reliance on God.
Relying on God comes more naturally when I consider what I know about my future. I don’t have to worry about being recognized or exalted, because I already know what God has in store for me one day. Oh, I may never experience that during this lifetime, but the reward is all ready and waiting for me when I get home to heaven. That’s what Jesus had in mind when he said, “you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” (Luke 14:14). We aren’t waiting to be repaid by others for our actions here – that payment is waiting for us in heaven.
Relying on God also comes more naturally when I consider what I know about the present, when I remember what he has for me right now. James reminds us, “he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: ‘God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.’ Submit yourselves, then, to God” (4:6-7). So many bristle at the idea of humbling themselves before God and submitting to him, but how how they are missing out! Look what he has in store for those who humbly submit to him: grace.
The heart over-inflated with pride has no need of more room for grace, or so it thinks. But the heart deflated in humility will be filled up with grace upon grace. So the key to humility is not trying to get rid of our pride, and it isn’t making the effort to be more humble. The key to humility is grace. And it comes in endless amounts to those who know they need it, and rely on it alone for this life and eternal life. Want to be more humble? Fill up on more grace.
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