Pride — Part 1
The Eskimos have a couple dozen distinct words for snow. Isn’t that what they say? They see so much of it, they have recognized many subtle variations that escape the rest of us.
I’ve come to believe we do not have enough distinctions for the word “pride” in our language.
During a recent time of marital trouble, a very good and very Christian friend was attempting some gentle correction when she said, “You have more pride than any woman I know!”
I checked her face because I knew what pride is in Christian tradition. Bad, bad, bad stuff just before you fall, fall fall.
I could see she wasn’t trying to wound me. She didn’t appear to even be rebuking me for the pride part. It was, rather, an illustration of how I might not be the easiest person with which to live. A point which I ended up granting her.
As un-self-aware as I often am, I think I know what she’s talking about. There’s something in my dad’s gene pool that has been slowly diluting over the generations, but remains a clan trademark. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess pride is close.
I can still remember a rare day when I played a video game with my dad. He is not a gamer. I think it was Mario. You know the deal. The guys knick you up as you attempt to pass the level, but if you are alive at the end, you win. On my first knick my dad was incredulous.
“You aren’t made quite the way I am. You aren’t going to go back and get that guy that just hit you?”
Well…no. Because you put yourself at increased risk and end up losing the level proving a point to a colored mass of pixels. I watched him on his turn. He turned all ‘Chuck Norris Retributive Vigilante’ on most of his minor attackers and lost the overall game.
No wonder he’s not a gamer.
My friends’ words were still ringing in my ears when my husband threw the same charge at me last week.
I was outlining a radical (but theoretical) plan whereby I would leave my job before they had the chance to squeeze me out.
He was incredulous.
“You would uproot and potentially take less money…for what? Pride?! That’s kind of stupid.”
I let my tears do the talking, because there was nothing to say.
YES! Yes, I absolutely would!
If you find yourself in a situation where you feel diminished, how long do you stay before you have allowed yourself to–in fact–be diminished? We can change our budget and I can get the money back, but if I lose a bit of myself, is that even something you can recover?
I guess the question I keep turning over in my mind is, “Is this the kind of pride that is bad?” Is knowing you can make it despite the circumstances you’re given–or even TO spite the circumstances–strength or sin?
Because it doesn’t feel even a little bit bad. A lot of times, it feels like the only thing you can count on.
