A Place at the Table

"For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." - Luke 14:11

I'm not humble. I fake it, and only God knows how convincing I am.

Humility is defined as "a modest or low opinion of one's own importance." If any week showed clearly how not humble I am, it was this past week. One of my kids got the stomach flu. I'm not sure where all my motherly nurturing went but I found myself annoyed, not at him, but that I had to be the one to stay home and tend to him while everyone else got on with their lives. I stewed a little, thinking that me going to school is important, but nooooo, me and my goals always come last, blah blah blah. How dare my husband go to work when I have things to do??

Maybe I shouldn't say I fake being humble. It's more like God uses life to force me to be humble. This came in the form of me getting so sick/dehydrated that I had to go to the hospital. Guess who missed school that day? Guess whose husband came to the rescue, though he was sick himself? And whose mother in law played taxi, even though I almost threw up in her car?

I'm not really worthy of the people I associate with.

Enough about me. Now I'd like to talk about my husband.

Mush is quite possibly the most genuinely humble person I know. Genuinely. Mush is not a Christian, but he acts more Christ like than many of the professed believers that I know (this includes myself).

I believe that God's greatest command is to love Him and others. I believe it, but Mush lives it.

Recently, something came up where I felt Mush was being treated very unfair. I railed against the offenders, told Mush he should say something - stand up for himself! He deserves better, and I truly believe that. But rather than follow my rather unloving/vengeful lead, his reply was both humble, and humbling:

"It's ok," he said, "I know my place at the table. I've been there my whole life."

His reply is a reference to a New Testament story, in which Jesus advises that if you're invited to dinner, don't seat yourself at the place of most importance, lest you be humbled by being asked to move. Rather, you should sit in a place of least importance, and let the host elevate you and move you to a better place.

Mush, in my opinion, is deserving of the most respectable place at the proverbial table. He is content to love the others at the table with him, even if they don't deserve the station at which they've seated themselves.

When Mush and I got together, I was thinking that maybe the spiritual journey we would take would be akin to the story of the prodigal son - maybe I could somehow be a reflection of the Light (you know, cause I'm so sweet and loving...) that leads him home to the Father (you know, cause he's so lost and desolate...)

Instead, I see that he's not a prodigal. He's the son that stayed with his father, doing all that he asked, working while others have squandered the handouts they demanded.

The roles are, in fact, reversed. Mush is the reflection of Light. I am the one searching. Mush is the faithful son. I am the prodigal.

Lies

I've been pondering two things the last few weeks. This is one. The other will follow. 

What is the greatest sin, do you think? Smarter people than me have debated this. I've heard various arguments over the years for it being suicide, apostasy, murder, adultery, etc. 

Last night, I decided that, for me, the greatest sin is to lie. 

One of the first stories in the Bible is the Fall of Man (original sin), when Adam and Eve succumbed to the temptation of the serpent (the Devil) and brought sin into the world with an act of disobedience: eating from the one tree in the Garden of Eden that God said not to eat from. (Seriously, you had one job...) 

In Genesis 3, the serpent asks Eve if God really said that they couldn't eat from the tree? Eve replies that God said if they ate from the tree, they would die. The serpent tells Eve, "No, you will not die, but instead you will be like God, knowing good and evil." 

The last part of the statement was true. But the first part, the crucial part about not dying? That was a lie. Instead of living in paradise as immortals, Adam and Eve were banished from the garden and suddenly had an end date to the comparative misery they would suffer. Welcome to earth, people. 

Eternal damnation because of a lie. 

Lies hurt, because eventually the truth is always going to come out, even if you are very skilled at falsehoods. Lies are one of the ultimate forms of disrespect. You don't respect my trust when you lie. You don't respect my intelligence when you lie. You don't respect my love when you lie to me. 

Bottom line, you don't respect me. 

But you obviously don't respect yourself either. And a person without self respect is a dangerous person, because they will have no shame in committing any offense against themselves or against others.

Self respect is defined as, "Having pride in oneself; a feeling that one is behaving with honor and dignity." 

The positions one puts themselves and others in by lying is the complete opposite of dignity and honor. The opposite of honor? Disgrace. Baseness. Insult. DISRESPECT. When you lie, you debase yourself as much as the people you are lying to. 

Lies are dangerous. The longer you tell them, the less credibility you have until you're in a hole full of your own bullshit that's so deep, you won't ever be able to dig yourself out of it. You'll call for help, and no one will hear you.

Well, no, that's not true. They'll hear you. They just won't believe you.