So, I had a very good friend hand me a big slice of humble pie earlier this evening. It was served with graciousness and love, but the taste still lingers, and my taste buds are not thrilled. I have been recently praying to be stripped of my prideful thinking and assumptions. It’s just terribly nauseating to see my own pride. With the proverbial mirror held up in front of me, I witnessed the repugnant sludge of pride exuding from my thoughts, lips, and fingertips in text. I find it terribly distasteful and tacky. It is necessary to see these things in myself and have them pointed out by those who want to lovingly help me grow in places that have been terribly deprived my entire life. If I want to grow as a “good and faithful servant,” I must die to my selfishness. I must succumb to humility. I’ve experienced humility and have been terribly embarrassed by my actions, thoughts, and words. I mean, humility is meant to bring me down a notch and help me understand that not everything is about me. I must die to myself to regrow into something beautiful. A personal “prescribed burn” must take place.
“Prescribed burning is the process of planning and applying fire to a predetermined area, under specific environmental conditions, to achieve a desired outcome.” Humility is that fire. When that fire is set in a gracious and merciful manner, what grows from the ashes is good and healthy. I want to be good and healthy, unselfish and likable, gracious and merciful in my own right. I want my focus to be on the Good, on the Light. Pride is dark and hollow. I want to be filled with love and goodness. I have to let go of the dark and ugly first, though. I’m most grateful for those who take my hand and gently guide me down the rocky roads to the spot on the corner serving a nice, big piece of humble pie.
From my heart, thank you for loving me that much.