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Humility’s Good Fruit
I will reject pride
and embrace humility.
Humble yourselves [with an attitude of repentance and insignificance] in the presence of the Lord, and He will exalt you [He will lift you up, He will give you purpose].
James 4:10 AMP
Lying in bed in the early morning, I find myself in a familiar place. The circumstances of my life all come to mind at once, demanding to know exactly what I plan to do this day to fix, reorder, and manage them. As fast as I can devise a strategy for one problem, here comes another, jumping up and down and crying, “What about me?! What are you going to do about this problem?” My mind races, even before my eyes have opened. I can feel my heart. It’s heavy and beating hard. Everything else in my body desperately pleads for a little more sleep. An escape. But I know it’s too late. My life’s circumstances are lining up out the door, and there’s no turning back. I open my eyes, take a deep breath, whisper a weak prayer on the exhale, and get up.
Deceived
The story of Adam and Eve is one of the first told in Sunday school. It elicits cartoon images of discreetly covered body parts (they’re in a garden, so bushes usually do the trick), a myriad of happily coexisting animals, apples, and snakes. It’s a familiar story, and like many familiar things, its meaning is easily lost and the story dismissed as elementary. But you’d be surprised how much Adam, Eve, and their garden home have to do with our twenty-first-century struggle with perfectionism. It’s worth taking a closer look.
The LORD God planted a garden eastward in Eden, and there He put the man whom He had formed. And out of the ground the LORD God made every tree grow that is pleasant to the sight and good for food. The tree of life was also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. (Gen. 2:8–9 NKJV)
Eden was a garden of beauty and sustenance. Everything in it was created to be cared for and enjoyed, with one exception.
Then the LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to tend and keep it. And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.” (vv. 15–17 NKJV)
After proclaiming this single prohibition, God declared that Adam shouldn’t be alone, and he made woman. His creation was complete, and it was a paradise unequaled since. Adam and Eve had perfection in Eden. Most importantly, they were in a perfect relationship with God and each other. Until the serpent showed up.
Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?”
And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat the fruit of the trees of the garden; but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God has said, ‘You shall not eat it, nor shall you touch it, lest you die.’”
Then the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that in the day you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree desirable to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate. She also gave to her husband with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings. (Gen. 3:1–7 NKJV)
The cunning serpent planted a seed of doubt in Eve’s mind when he questioned God’s command: “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?” Other versions translate the serpent’s question in Genesis 3:1 as “Did God actually say . . . ?” (ESV) and “Can it really be that God has said . . . ?” (AMP). The Message captures the slyness of the serpent’s challenge best: “Do I understand that God told you not to eat from any tree in the garden?”
But God had made only one tree off-limits: “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat” (Gen. 2:16 NKJV). His love for Adam and Eve was evidenced by his generosity, and it was love that motivated his prohibition as well: “for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die” (v. 17).
The serpent was challenging God’s goodness and love, and Eve took the bait (3:2–3). But Eve’s addition to God’s rule, “nor shall you touch it,” reflects a subtle shift in her thinking. She wasn’t focused on God’s generous provision but on his prohibition. God had used words like every and freely when he spoke to Adam. In her response to the serpent, Eve used neither.
The serpent quickly buried the seed of doubt with the dark deceit of a lie: “You will not surely die.” He directly contradicted God’s Word and cast further doubt on God’s goodwill toward Adam and Eve by suggesting that God was holding out on them.
In short, the serpent’s temptation of Eve was, “God is not enough. Take charge!” He deceived her by getting her eyes off God’s generous love and provision and focused instead on God’s supposed insufficiency, as well as her own lack—not enough power (you will be like God) and not enough knowledge (knowing good and evil).
Eve doubted God, forgot his command, stopped trusting him, became proud, and ultimately disobeyed her loving Creator. She believed that if she ate the forbidden fruit, she’d have what she needed. But the truth is that Eve’s disobedience cut her off from the very One who was more than enough and had created Eden, a place of perfection, for her and Adam to live, where every need would be met and every deepest desire satisfied.
Eve didn’t think she was better than God. She didn’t think she was more powerful than God. She didn’t think she was smarter than God. Eve just believed the lie that she needed more than God. He wasn’t enough. In her disbelief, she turned her head and heart to her own resources, ambitions, and abilities. And in her disobedience, Eve condemned herself and all her sons and daughters to a lifetime of not enough.
Scapegoats
Years ago, one of our younger boys complained, “If it weren’t for Eve and that darn apple, we wouldn’t be in this whole mess!” As he struggled with his own temptations (replace the “apple” with one of many boyhood pleasures), Eve was a convenient scapegoat. After correcting his common error of misidentification (calling the fruit an apple) and reminding him that Adam quickly followed suit, I asked if he thought he would have responded more wisely to the serpent’s deception.
“Of course I would have!”
And I realized humility’s lesson would have to wait for another day. There would no doubt be plenty of opportunities.
While I may not blame Eve for all of my and the world’s woes, I find plenty of other scapegoats. They’re as close as my imperfect family members, friends, church leaders, and the many anonymous people I encounter daily. There’s even one in my mirror.
“If only __________ (fill in the blank), I would feel better, act better, love better, perform better,” and so on. Take your pick. It’s a subtle grasp at perfection, or at least my minimally tolerable level of imperfection, and it’s motivated by pride.
Eve’s cataclysmic sin wasn’t eating a piece of fruit. It was disobedience. Her disobedience began with doubt, was motivated by discontent, and was sealed with pride as she turned her trust from her good God to herself.
Pride has many faces. We know it by its most obvious one, arrogance. But arrogance, fear, anxiety, busyness, harsh judgments, and indifference are just a few of the faces of pride. Pride also plays a main role in perfectionism.
Made for Eden
Imperfection has become a trend. With hashtags like #liveauthentic and books persuading us to lay down the elusive goal of perfection, we have felt the noose of perfectionism loosen from around our necks ever so slightly. We can breathe again, and we’re learning to enjoy life as is. Some for the first time. It’s wonderful!
Until we forget and find ourselves chasing a newer and better promise for soul satisfaction. Why is it so easy to slip back into perfectionism?
It is because we are made for Eden. Our hearts are forever longing to return to that place of perfection. That is why we are forever vulnerable to the promises of perfection that come in every color, shape, and size. When one doesn’t satisfy, there are a million others that might. We embark on a futile yet relentless pursuit of our legitimate, God-given desire for Eden and its perfection, wondering why nothing ever quite satisfies our hearts. And perfectionism takes root.
Do you remember our definition of perfectionism in chapter 1: “a personal standard, attitude, or philosophy that demands perfection and rejects anything less”?1 In light of what we’ve discovered so far, here’s a working definition of perfectionism: a futile attempt to achieve perfection on our own; a demand for control of our lives now and on our terms; the original temptation.
Not Enough
All of advertising is built on the idea of not enough. There’s something missing. This will make you happy, fix your problems, bring satisfaction. And it does. For a minute, maybe a day or two, even a week, if you’re really lucky. Have you ever wondered why our not enoughs seem so insatiable?
Right now I’m sitting on a “new to us” couch. With a houseful of boys who tend to break couch frames with their wrestling, we’ve had only one truly new couch in almost three decades of family life. It’s just not worth it to buy something brand new, so we keep our eyes open for like-new hand-me-downs.
Recently, I noticed the couch in our sunroom, the smallest and most popular room in the house, had seen better days. Maybe it was when my dad graciously suggested that putting a piece of plywood under the cushions might help give it more support. I guess he didn’t find sitting with his knees up near his nose comfortable.
Since the room is so popular, I figured a sectional would probably be the best use of space. So I watched Craigslist and drooled over the truly new sectionals at Costco.
Earlier this week, my sister called and said they were getting a sleeper sofa for their daughter who’d just returned from college and had lost her room to a sibling. Did I want their old sectional? Perfect!
I went and picked it up the next day. After hauling the “knees in your nose” couch to the dump, we deposited the new-to-us sectional in the sunroom. It was a perfect fit! That evening, three of us stretched out on it while our granddaughter walked back and forth across the big new couch.
Today I spent a couple hours redecorating the room to match the color of the sectional.
It looks lovely. But it’s not comfortable. So this afternoon I’m back online searching for another sectional.
My sectional is not enough. And that’s not really a big deal. The big deal is when my not enoughs begin to rule my heart, define my identity, lay claim to my security, and take my eyes off the One who is enough.
The irony is that not enough is actually the truth. Nothing on this earth will fill my heart’s cry for Eden. Everything in my being longs for that place of perfection—the place where all my needs are provided for, where I’m absolutely secure and loved, and where my heart’s desires find fulfillment.
The problem with the not enoughs is how they can lure me into a futile search to fill my heart with things that will never satisfy it. That is pride at its most deceitful, because it’s true: outside of Eden and on my own, there really is not enough.
Pride of Life
“Mom, you’re the Christian self-help queen!” That was my adolescent son’s conclusion as he looked at the titles lining my overflowing bookcase. He was right. I was determined to find the book that would tell me how to be the best wife and mother I could be. In other words, perfect.
I’ll be the last to bash books written to encourage and guide women in their walk with Christ. A decade after my son’s astute observation, my bookcase is still overflowing, and I’ve added half a dozen more. No, not books—bookcases! But every tool has its proper place and function. A hammer is great for pounding nails but doesn’t work very well as a screwdriver. And no tool can ever replace the craftsman. Only he knows the design and end product and what tool to use when. Likewise, the best of men and women’s wisdom can’t ever replace that of our maker.
But what could have possibly been wrong with my desire to be a good wife and mom? There’s no one I love more than my husband and children. Of course, I wanted to be my best for them! My desire was born from a very good place. But even a good desire can go bad.
So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate. (Gen. 3:6)
Eve was tempted by good things: sustenance (“good for food”), beauty (“a delight to the eyes”), and wisdom (“to be desired to make one wise”). Who could fault her?
What we typically perceive as pride is actually its ugly fruit. The impulse of pride seems innocuous. It appears reasonable, even responsible. Pride begins with a tiny shift of the trajectory of my heart away from God as my source and the One to whom I owe all my allegiance. My heart is motivated by pride when I place my ultimate trust in something or someone other than Christ. Pride reflects an overblown estimation of my ability to manage my life and circumstances. It’s delusional at best, rebellious at worst. Either way, it reflects a return to unbelief. The Bible calls this the pride of life.
Do not love the world [of sin that opposes God and His precepts], nor the things that are in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world—the lust and sensual craving of the flesh and the lust and longing of the eyes and the boastful pride of life [pretentious confidence in one’s resources or in the stability of earthly things]—these do not come from the Father, but are from the world. The world is passing away, and with it its lusts [the shameful pursuits and ungodly longings]; but the one who does the will of God and carries out His purposes lives forever. (1 John 2:15–17 AMP)
Pride of life reveals itself in as many ways as there are individuals. For me, it was family life. I was going to do it “right,” and my pride and perfectionism just about strangled all the joy out of one of the greatest gifts of my life.
Perfectionism Paralysis
“That’s not how you do it!” I said.
In hindsight, my son’s tense face revealed his frustration and discouragement. But all I saw was stubbornness. I proceeded to show Josh exactly how to clean the kitchen counter.
“You wipe off the crumbs first. Then you spray the counter and scrub it. When you’re done scrubbing, you rinse out the rag and wipe it again.”
Josh didn’t appear to be listening, which only made me angrier.
“Mom, do you really think there’s only one right way to clean the kitchen counter?”
My knee-jerk response was he’s arguing again! But something about his tone stopped me. In a moment of something close to humility, I realized it was an honest question.
Do I really believe there’s only one right way to clean the kitchen counter?
I pondered a moment.
I do!
I was as incredulous as Josh was sincere. I really believed there was only one right way to clean the kitchen counter! And only one right way to clean the bathroom. And only one right way to dust. And only one right way to educate. And only one right way to discipline. And only one right way to do marriage, parenting, friendship . . . one, and only one, right way to live life. And it was up to me to find it.
What pride. What idiocy! What a crushing burden to bear.
Perfectionism is paralyzing. Many of my days were filled with frustration, anger, futility, and depression. “No matter how hard and fast and smart I work, it’s never enough.” The message in my head that eventually stuck was I’m not enough. And that was the same message I unwittingly conveyed to my family.
Perfectionism takes amoral things like clean kitchen counters and makes them the measure of morality, of goodness: I’m a good wife if my husband is happy. I’m a good mom if my kids are clean, mannerly, and well-behaved. I’m a good student if I rank in the top of my class, get into my first choice of colleges, and maintain a 4.0 GPA.
In a morally relativistic culture, good is easily replaced with successful, and the trap is set again: I’m a successful entrepreneur if I make at least six figures. I’m a successful blogger if my Instagram feed has five hundred, one thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand followers.
After Emily had been in counseling for a number of months, her counselor helped me see how my perfectionism not only robbed me of joy but was also crushing my kids. Emily had always been compliant, and my standards just kept increasing for her. I wanted her to be like me, but better. So I judged her harshly and applauded her wildly. Both were destructive.
Em and I have a lot in common, but there are many areas where we are different. Em is spontaneous, and I love routine. She’s quick, thorough, and doesn’t sweat the details. I am slow, methodical, and easily mired in minutiae. Em is deep; I am too, but the way we express ourselves is poles apart. Her uniqueness is what I love and appreciate so much about her now, but when she was young, it scared me. So I controlled her with expectations and rules. One of those had a lot to do with how she looked.
Our counselor encouraged me to let Emily express her individuality. She’s supercreative, and I’d never given her the freedom to express her creativity in her style. Hypermodesty was all the rage in our conservative homeschool world, and I’d jumped on the bandwagon. Our counselor suggested that I not challenge Em on her clothing and appearance unless I absolutely couldn’t tolerate her choice. This would be much harder than I expected. It was also some of the best counsel she ever gave me.
We were at a weekend homeschool event. Em was “expressing” her individuality all over the place. I’m not sure she even knew what she wanted to say; she’d been muzzled so long. As I watched other moms cast disapproving looks her way, my heart broke. I couldn’t judge them for judging. They were acting just like I always had! But the shoe was on the other foot, and it fit so oppressively tight.
Everything in me wanted to plead, “You don’t understand. She’s actually getting better. This has been the hardest time of her life . . . of my life! If you only knew how dark our days and nights have been, you’d understand. Please don’t judge my girl. I messed up. It’s not her fault. I understand how you feel, but she’s not the threat you think she is. We’re trying so hard. We’re going to be okay. I think. Please show us grace. Please encourage us. Please love us.”
I was learning humility.
Humility Personified
God knew when he made us that we’d never find contentment outside of his perfection. Eden was forever lost to Adam and Eve when God sent them away, but he promised to restore his children one day to that perfect place. This time he’d do it through his own Son. Only Jesus can satisfy our hearts’ longing for perfection. But it takes a humility that is willing to forsake our pride and its many manifestations.
Humility isn’t a virtue that initially strikes us as bold and strong; rather, it evokes weakness, quiet, and even suffering. Humility may well involve all of these, but it is also empowering.
Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. (Phil. 2:3–4 NASB)
While we may readily acknowledge the vices of selfishness and conceit, we aren’t as inclined to embrace the virtue of humility, especially when it requires us to regard others as more important than ourselves. It sounds so self-deprecating and totally goes against our self-made culture. When you’re measured by how closely your life aligns with the images of perfection bombarding you daily, self becomes pretty important. Popular concepts and words like self-confidence, self-esteem, and self-worth confirm our cultural preoccupation with self. We need a new paradigm for humility. Thankfully, we have one in Jesus.
Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (vv. 5–8 NASB)
Jesus knew who he was, but he didn’t use that knowledge to his advantage. Rather, he used his place of strength and position for the sake of others by relinquishing it and becoming a man. As the Son of God, equal with his Father, he had the right to be served, but he chose to serve instead.
If that’s all he had done, it would have been more than we deserved. Jesus could have come and demonstrated to us the right way to live and left it at that. But he knew we needed more than an example of good behavior. Jesus wanted to bring us “back to Eden” by restoring us to his Father. We needed a Savior to rescue us from sin and all its destruction in our lives. So in humility and love, Jesus submitted to history’s greatest injustice when he humbled himself “by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”
For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (vv. 9–11 NASB)
Jesus’s humility led to his exaltation by his Father. What appeared to the world as the ultimate place of weakness—the cross—became the greatest symbol of sacrifice, hope, and power. His willingness to humble himself saved us.
Humility is not for the faint of heart. It takes faith, but as followers of Jesus, it is our only option. Entrusting ourselves to an unseen God whose ways and thoughts are higher than ours2 is impossible to do from a stance of proud self-reliance.
“God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Be wretched and mourn and weep. Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you. (James 4:6–10)
James’s sober instructions to an already troubled and suffering church reflect how necessary humility is to following Jesus and living the life we are called to as Christians. It is a vital means of God’s grace and power.
In the bestselling book The Purpose Driven Life, Pastor Rick Warren offers this insightful definition of humility: “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.”3 As we learn to walk in humility, not only will we not demand our own way, but we also won’t beat ourselves up when we fail. A humble spirit just isn’t thinking a lot about self. It’s also saying, “Yes, Lord,” with a submissive heart to God’s sovereign will as he reveals it day by day through our circumstances.
Humility widens our view as it minimizes self and sets our trials in their place. It enables us not to think so much of ourselves and frees us to see God’s blessings even in the midst of trials instead of being threatened or angered by difficulty. And the fruit of embracing humility is humility in response to those around us. Our behavior and relationships should be marked by this fruit.
Letting go of the ambitions, expectations, and standards my pride had erected hasn’t been easy. The serpent’s hiss is ever present, tempting me to doubt, become discontent, and believe the lie that God is not enough. Humility protects my heart and mind from deception.
My morning battle demands immediate solutions. While my temptation seems as far from Eden as my messy bedroom is from Paradise, it’s the very same. Will I trust God and his promises, power, wisdom, and love, or will I proudly turn to my own resources to manage my life? Will I believe he is enough?
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Cor. 4:7). In his wise design, God made us fragile and with a constant need of him. He did this so we would know his love and power not only at salvation but in our day-to-day lives as well. Humbly embracing the reality of our weakness and his strength opens our hearts and paves the way for us to walk with our Father in the freedom and intimacy Christ bought for us.
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION
Where are you tempted to doubt God’s goodness and/or power in your life?
What are the areas of discontentment in your life?
Where in your life does unbelief manifest most often?
What resources are you tempted to turn to? What “fruit” do you turn your heart and eyes to as the thing that will save you?
What are your not enoughs?
Do you struggle with perfectionism, defined as “a personal standard, attitude, or philosophy that demands perfection and rejects anything less”?4
How about when it’s defined this way: a futile attempt to achieve perfection on our own; a demand for control of our lives now and on our terms; the original temptation?
How invested are you in our culture’s concept of self?
Where in your day-to-day life does Christ’s example of humility motivate you to humble yourself? What does that look like in practice?