Seriously, let’s just laugh

Have ya ever felt like you need to add a little levity to your life?

Me too.

Some days I want to surround myself with the ridiculous, that isn’t necessarily wrong, right?

Yay, for the ridiculous ones in this world.

We need to poke fun at ourselves sometimes.

Recently, I have been schooled in the dangers of PRIDE while wandering through this corner of the Christian kingdom.

PRIDE is such a slippery slope, isn’t it.

I have a ridiculously wise son who says, “If pride is your poison, you probably don’t know it. Pride is the one character flaw that hides other flaws from you, because when someone points a flaw out to you, pride says, ‘Oh no you don’t. You are not taking ownership of that one. That’s not you; not by a long shot.'”

In truth, that is my paraphrase of what my ridiculously wise son said. He would never talk that fancy. That’s me, beefin’ it up for you.

But back to pride. I think Mateo is right. Pride is hard to see in yourself. Random House dictionary describes pride as an exaggerated sense of your importance, either because of your accomplishments, or because you know important people or have an important job or career and you view that as a point of pride in your life.

Silly how that works.

Pride is present in the lives of all those people who have their picture taken with the president and then hang that picture prominently in their office or home and name drop about the time (it might have been 30 yrs ago, mind you), that they cozied up to President ______________ and shared the evening with him and his lovely wife.

Important people always have “lovely” spouses, right? Why wouldn’t they–they are important people.

This is the way pride manifests itself in some people’s lives. For others, an exaggerated sense of their wit, or wisdom, or talents, or wealth might take up residence in the mind and soul, and suck the life outta them. For me, pride most often shows itself in a vicious self abasing spirit.

Do you know him?

That little critic fills my brain with negativity and forces me to second guess everything I do. He is especially vocal in my life when I try something new, or say something edgy, or challenge someone in authority. That’s when that sniveling little critic starts to scream: “Hey, stupid, do you know what you just did? You just called attention to yourself. You just put the spot light on you. You did that, stupid. Aren’t you glad? Now everyone is seeing you. You can’t hide now, idiot. What in the [bleep] did you do that for?

I mean, he is vicious.  And foul-mouthed.

I think he’s inspired by demons, but he may just be a manifestation of the inner woman, that piece of me still not totally surrendered to the transformative work of redemption.

I would call him Pride with a capital P, were it not for the fact that Jesus has forbidden me to do so.

Jesus doesn’t want me to give him that much credit.

Jesus is always right about these things.

Its’ taken me a while to learn that, but learn it, I have.

I have also learned that a healthy sense of humor about one’s self and self-importance is paramount when trying to beat back pride.  I’m trying to laugh at my foibles.  I’m trying to find humor in some of the stumbling and bumbling my inner critic points out to me, about me.  Who is he to talk, any way?  He’s not perfect, not by a long shot.

I am learning that pride can present itself in many forms.

Pride can lift us up, or it can knock us down.

Pride can make our day, or destroy our life.

Pride can mold us and shape us, and form us into someone we never wanted to be, nor know, or it can be beaten back by prayer, meditation, trusting God, and practicing self affirming ways, but also by learning to laugh at mistakes, missteps, and misunderstandings.

Don’t be so serious.  This is not brain surgery, Lori.

Pride can be all-encompassing in our lives, but only if we allow it.
Only if we ignore it.
Only if we don’t take action and stand against it.

If we pray, if we seek God’s face, if we humble ourselves (before others are forced to do it for us–for our good in the long run), and shout to the heaven’s, “Dear God, save me from this life of pride!”

God hears.

He cares.

He knows that we are dust.

He will help.

When pride comes knocking at my door today, I’m gonna keep that sucka locked.  Let him scour the neighborhood for another victim–there are plenty enough that are willing to trade this or that for the pride that puffs one up.

Not this gal.

I want less of pride.
I’m working to have less of pride.
I WILL have less of pride.

Less is more, right?

I’m seeking that purpose filled life that doesn’t depend on pride.

Pray for me.

Here I go….

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