Humility is hard.

There are so many ways in which we are inclined to lift ourselves up -- to exalt ourselves in our minds (or seek to do so in the minds of others) to a point of unassailable rightness. And it's subtle -- it may not even be a conscious act of will. We simply cannot accept the idea that our only "goodness" is extrinsic -- imparted to us by God.

Sure, we might know on an intellectual level what Scripture says about us -- that our righteousness is as filthy rags (the original language there in Isaiah 64:9 is really quite strong and worth looking up), that our hearts are "only evil continually" (Genesis 6:5) and so on.

 

But do you act on that? Do you fall on your face before God daily in gratitude for an immeasurable gift undeserved? Do you consciously and intentionally allow yourself to be diminished in all things that God would be glorified? Is your driving motivation in every active decision to live out the words of John the Baptist -- that "[Christ] must increase, but I must decrease"?

 

I know I don't like I should. And I know that when I fail to do so, I am in direct opposition to God.

 

God opposes the proud, says 1 Peter 5:5. He commands us not to be "wise in our own eyes" in Proverbs 3:7 -- a clear command not simply against outward arrogance, but against a mindset that esteems one's self as praiseworthy. 

Romans 12 delineates our state more clearly still: "I say to every man among you not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned." If we have a correct view of ourselves in relation to God's perfection, pride is an impossiblity. In the illuminating scrutiny of God's perfect standard, we cannot possibly measure up.

Every intention of the heart of man is only evil continually.

That we should think in some way that our ever-faltering obedience to God could earn us some merit is arrogant to the point of blasphemy. It devalues the perfect work of Christ -- perfect, that is, complete. Jesus paid it all, as the hymn says. When we think for a moment that there is anything more we can add, we assert either that there is some portion Christ could not pay, or that our feeble piety could stand equal with Jesus's blood. Jesus Himself "did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped." (Philippians 2:6). How can we expect to fare better? 

Our righteousness is as filthy rags.

 

It's not enough to avoid active pride. We must actively seek to give all glory to its rightful place -- the God who grants us every breath (to say nothing of a regenerate heart and approval through His own blood.)

This is the fear of the Lord that Scripture calls the beginning of wisdom -- that in gazing upon Him and gazing upon ourselves, we are awestruck at the incomprehensible gulf between his perfection and our own depravity. With this disparity impressed upon our hearts, we can find contentment, love and faith beyond "rational" understanding.

Contentment, no longer striving to inflate or exalt ourselves. God is all-perfect and all-loving towards us in His infinite grace.

Love, knowing that even the vilest of all sinners is no lower than we ourselves -- weak and fallen, helpless apart from God's salvation.

Faith, trusting in Christ as the source of all good; He who began a good work in us will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. (Philippians 1:6). Our Creator, having once imputed to us Hist own righteousness beyond understanding, does not cast us off in our imperfection but instead reforms us into His glorious image -- unbroken as before the Fall. Blessed indeed are the meek.

 

Humility is rewarding.