Stay humble. You could be wrong.
What are you talking about, crazy lady? How could I be wrong when I'm so obviously right?
Well, tonight, sister, I'm gonna do a little self-preachin' if you don't mind. Pull up a chair and take a listen in if you like.
I remember a long time ago hearing the phrase: you can wholeheartedly believe something and wholeheartedly be wrong. Yeah, needless to say that one stuck with me.
There's this pretty incredible guy that you'll read about in Scripture named Paul. His initial life calling? Kill Christians. He was crazy passionate about his mission too. The best of the best at it, in fact. That is, until he met the Man, Jesus. One encounter, one face-to-face, and all the things he once believed in, lived for, and would have died for changed in an instant. He never would have thought until that day, that moment, that all along he'd been wholeheartedly wrong.
So what's your point, woman?
My point - my looking-in-the-mirror-sermon for today - is that as much as I feel like there's no dadgum way I could be wrong on (insert pretty much anything here), well, I could be. And so could you.
But seriously, what about when all of the facts and my opinions and my feelings and my bents prove that I know what I'm talking about and my thoughts are so clearly superior? (Insert eye roll here because as sarcastic and dumb as that sounds, it's exactly how I think if I'm courageous enough to really look at it.)
Answer: still, I could be wrong.
In fact, maybe, just maybe, my husband could be right.
I know. I'm still swallowing that one down too.
Oh, the point, ladies - the point, ME - is that I gotta stay in a place of humility. And though for some reason it's the sick, comforting place I keep returning to, I can't remain in Pride Land. For even if I'm as passionate as Paul, there are other people in this home, in my little world, with opinions. With input. And frankly, as wholeheartedly as I feel and as strong as my viewpoint is on how to raise the kids, where we should go to church, how we oughta spend our money, whether or not we should homeschool, if dairy is bad for you, and who should really pick up the dog poop, I. Could. Be. Wrong.
So, tonight, even if begrudgingly at first, we choose humility.
We choose listening to hear and not listening to speak. (Ouch, that one was personal.)
We choose not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought.
We choose to consider others better than ourselves. (Again, the stinging.)
We choose to die to bits of us because there's no other way for there to be resurrection.