Now the man Moses was very humble, more so than anyone else on the face of the earth.
This is an interesting tidbit about Moses, something I’d never have figured from my image of the fiery Charlton Heston Moses. But apparently, Moses was more humble than anyone on the face of the earth.
Humility is an interesting trait. At its purest, it’s innocence, and a deep awareness of how little I know or how little I can do, in the absence of God. I’m reminded of toddlers, when they get to that shy stage. Parents are quick to excuse the child hiding behind their leg, as if it’s just an act. If you’d only just seen this child jumping and joyfully yelling on the bed, you’d know this shyness is a ruse. But maybe it’s really a genuine humility. In the safety and isolation of home, a child grows beyond his small body; he can occupy more space in the world because of the safety afforded by love and care. But when that boy suddenly realizes there are people and situations outside the safety of that home, he realizes how small he is, and how little he knows. Thinking about it, I’d consider this toddler shyness more genuine than any humility I may have.
In many circumstances, I’ve developed a humble persona. But it’s sometimes more about wanting to appear great, and knowing I cannot. Bowling, for instance. I won’t bowl, because I can’t predictably do it well. I talk a good game, and appear humble. But it’s really a false humility, based on my deep desire to only show myself as strong. Therefore, I refuse. That’s not true humility. That’s egotism, cloaked in humility.
Talking about God is a circumstance where I genuinely feel humble. I didn’t go to seminary. I don’t have an advanced degree. I don’t claim to know any empirical truth. In circumstances with others, when asked to discuss and debate God, or God’s word, I feel genuinely humble.
It’s not that I don’t have thoughts about God; obviously, I do and I write frequently about it. But it’s what God means to me, in my heart, hopefully infused and informed by God’s Spirit. Right or wrong, I do have a sense of my voice. But put that voice up against others, and I do feel humble. I’m not interested in an argument, or even to defend my position. But I am interested in sharing it.
The reflection for this morning asks whether we can ever truly know we’re humble, or can I be humble and be aware of that humbleness at the same time. I think in certain circumstances we can. It’s when we recognize the vastness of God, the love of God, the mercy of God, and consider myself against that vastness.
False humility is actually all centered on me. I recognize that I’m not excellent at something, and being falsely humble simply makes me feel bare, alone and inadequate. It’s about me and my competency and has nothing to do with God. God’s not even in my mind.
But unlike false humility, true humility can actually result in comfort. Like the toddler who burrows their face in their mother’s shoulder, true humility makes me seek the comfort of the love and mercy of God. True humility is God-centered, and I’m comforted when I acknowledge that, and return to God’s embrace. This morning, I’m thinking about how to recognize the false humility that creeps into my world, and compare that with the toddler, clinging to my leg.
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