Meekness

The late pastor and preacher Tim Keller truly lived out the teachings in his popular book, The Freedom of Self Forgetfulness: The Path to True Christian Joy. In other words, he demonstrated true humility and teachability.

For instance, in 2011, Pastor Tim Cox had accompanied Keller on a trip to South Korea. Cox reflected on the trip later and wrote:

I traveled with Tim to Seoul. Tim was speaking at a conference for pastors, and Tim kept saying ‘Look at what Jesus has done for you! If you see that, you will be changed!’ At one point I asked Tim if even that could be a legalistic thing. That I’m not looking hard enough at Jesus, so I just need to pull up my socks and try harder. When in reality, the Holy Spirit does that for me.

Tim told me, ‘Yes, of course, only the Holy Spirit can do that!’

That was the end of our conversation. The next day, Tim got to the part of his talk where he said ‘if you look at what Jesus did for you . . .’ and he looks straight at me, ‘then by the power of the Holy Spirit, you’ll change!’

It's always interesting listening to some folks who are trying to make sense of Christian virtues. For example, The Journal of Positive Psychology ran an article with the following headline: "Humble persons are more helpful than less humble persons: Evidence from three studies."

Humble people are helpful. Wow, you don't say? How shocking! The abstract for the article reads: "Humble participants helped more than did less humble participants even when agreeableness and desirable responding were statistically controlled." In non-technical language, this means in situations where people wanted to help for unselfish reasons, people who weren't full of themselves were more likely to actually lend a hand. The article also reports that humble people even make better bosses and employees.

So how do you explain this strange virtue? Well, not to worry. The researchers tried to examine the evidence "for the evolutionarily predicted connection between humility and helping." Christians have a simpler explanation for humility: It comes from Jesus.

Nadia Bolz Weber, shared some thoughts on grace, failures, and the soul feeling its worth in her Christmas newsletter:

When Mary sings of God in the Magnificat, she didn’t say that God looked with favor on her virtue. She didn’t say that God looked with favor upon her activism. She didn’t say that God looked with favor on the fact that she had tried so hard that she finally had become the ideal version of herself.

No. God looked with favor on her lowliness.

And yet then what do I do but constantly curse my own lowliness. Obsess about my flaws and shortcomings. Berate myself for my failings and defects of character; for not trying hard enough to become my ideal self.

But our failings and weakness and mistakes are God’s perfect entry points. It is our lowliness and our humility, not our strength and our so-called virtues where God does God’s very best work. Which makes me wonder if perhaps our obsession with self-improvement is really just a form of atheism disguised as spirituality.

Editor’s Note: Warning: The original article by Nadia Bolz Weber contains some R-rated language.

A fistful of black letters flicker atop the pale-yellow background. The sign is broken, but few care. Because they are broken too. There is a place, like God and grandmother’s house, where the door is always open. You may find better food elsewhere, but you won’t find better food for the money. They have a menu, though I have never needed it.

When you sit down at the table or the bar you will likely be greeted by someone who calls you “honey,” or “sugar,” or “baby,” or sometimes “boss.” But you will be greeted, and usually with a smile. And by someone who knows what it means to work long and hard for very little.

Some of them are working their way through college. Some of them are single parents trying to pay the rent and keep the lights on at home. Some are ex-cons trying to hold down a job by wiping tables and desperately trying to believe the rumors of second chances.

On any given day there might be a family of five seated near you with three small children scarfing down jellied toast and scrambled eggs. They’re here because the food is cheap and sometimes dad doesn’t want mom to have to cook after working twelve hours at the shirt factory. On one side of you will be three bikers and a war veteran swapping stories. On the other side will be an elderly couple who come every Thursday night. They come just to hear the voices. Their own kids have long since stopped visiting, and they’ve already buried all of their other friends.

It doesn’t matter what you’ve done or where you’ve come from, you are welcome here. Strait-laced or strung out, drunk or sober or in that fuzzy place in between. In blue jeans, a business suit, or pajamas. No one is turned away.

Waffle House may not be a church, but many of our churches could stand to learn a few things about open arms and second chances from this wild, wayside diner.

Niccolò Machiavelli was a Renaissance era philosopher, politician, and writer. His writings greatly influenced modern political science. The following is an edited excerpt from The School of Life’s YouTube video on his views.

Machiavelli believed that to be effective, political leaders needed to be ruthless and tyrannical, not empathetic and just. His book, The Prince, is a short manual of advice for princes on how not to finish last. And the answer was never to be overly devoted to acting nicely. and to know how to borrow every single trick employed by the most dastardly, unscrupulous and nastiest people who have ever lived.

Machiavelli knew where our counter-productive obsession with acting nicely originated from: the West was brought up on the Christian story of Jesus of Nazareth. (He was) the very nice man from Galilee who always treated people well.

But Machiavelli pointed out an inconvenient detail to this sentimental tale of the triumph of goodness through meekness. From a practical perspective, Jesus’ life was an outright disaster. This gentle soul was trampled upon and humiliated, disregarded and mocked. Judged in his lifetime and outside of any divine assistance, he was one of history’s greatest losers.

Possible Preaching Angle:

What Machiavelli (and so many others) fail to take into account is that the gentle Lamb becomes a Lion. After the seeming “defeat” of the Cross, our resurrected Lord will return in great power and glory to reign over the earth. He was exalted by the Father because of his willingness to humble himself and take on the form of a servant.

In so many ways, Giannis Antetokounmpo is an unlikely superstar. The lanky 26-year-old, dubbed “The Greek Freak” for his stunning athletic feats, recently added an exclusive honor to his professional resume: NBA Champion. In July, Antetokounmpo’s Milwaukee Bucks defeated the Phoenix Suns in the 2021 NBA Finals.

But his most distinctive attribute might not be his athleticism, but his humility. Following the Bucks’ Game 4 victory in which he helped preserve the win with a particularly impressive defensive play, Giannis explained how to keep a winning perspective after such a successful outing:

From my experience, like when I think about, “Yeah, I did this. I’m so great. I had 30, I had 25, 10 and 10,” or whatever the case might be … “Oh, we won this and that.” Usually … the next few days, you’re going to be terrible.

Giannis’ frankness elicited chuckles as he illustrated the benefit of staying humble:

When you focus on the past, that’s your ego. “I did this.” We were able to beat this team 4-0. I did this in the past. And when I focus on the future, it’s my pride. “Yeah, next game, I do this and this and this. I’m going to dominate.” That’s your pride talking. I try to focus in the moment, in the present. And that’s humility. That’s being humble. That’s not setting expectations. That’s going out there and enjoying the game.

Possible Preaching Angle:

When we remain humble and teachable, we honor the model of Jesus, who emptied himself by taking on the role of a servant.

A pastor in India was confronted angrily by a man in his office one day. This man made many unfair and untrue accusations against the pastor. After finishing his angry outburst, the man asked the pastor what he had to say.

In response, the pastor got up from his chair, walked to the washroom next door, filled an empty basin with water and came back to the room. The angry man was surprised when he saw the basin of water and asked what it was for. The pastor replied that even though the accusations were not true, that since the person was nevertheless upset with him, he felt the right thing to do, was for him to ask forgiveness. He then offered to wash the man’s feet. What happened then was that the man broke down in tears at this act of humility and opened his heart to the Lord. The pastor's humility was shown to be a strength and not a weakness!

One of the most important character traits a Christian needs to cultivate is humility. True humility always stands out as a powerful strength instead of a weakness, and always pleases God. The Scripture says, “All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another” (1 Peter 5:5-6).

Paul Louis Metzger writes:

My greatest living hero is Dr. John M. Perkins, an African American evangelical Christian and civil rights leader nearly beaten to death in Mississippi in 1970 for his work defending the rights of poor blacks. ... One evening in Portland, Oregon, I was driving the now-elderly Dr. Perkins to a benefit dinner. He was to serve as the keynote speaker at the dinner, which was raising money for an inner-city community development ministry that brought jobs and housing to ex-offenders and youth.

As we drove along--fittingly on a street called Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard--I asked Dr. Perkins what it was like for him now in Mississippi. Dr. Perkins replied matter-of-factly, “I'm kind of a hero now in Mississippi. It seems that every time the state newspapers write something about reconciliation, they quote me. It's as if I created the word. But when I think about how many homes my fame has built for the poor in Mississippi, I realize that my fame hasn't built any homes for the poor. So, I don't put no stock in my fame.”

Many communities are forced to reckon with good things that somehow slip through the cracks. In Claymont, one of those things ended up as a blessing.

The New Castle County community has developed a quarter-century-long tradition around a quirky piece of folklore—the humble Claymont Christmas Weed, which locals decorate every year. Despite its diminutive size and unorthodox locale, it has become a defining centerpiece of the Claymont holiday celebration.

It started back on a slow news day in 1993, when a local newspaper photographer captured an image of a wild fir tree growing out of the cracked pavement of Philadelphia Pike. Neighbors and motorists in passing had adorned it with a few modest ornaments, and the image of the plucky—dubbed “the Christmas weed” in the headline—did the early 90s equivalent of going viral.

Unfortunately, the photo caught the eye of officials at the Delaware Department of Transportation, who considered it a potential traffic hazard and scheduled it for prompt removal. The DOT’s Scroogelike response escalated a community outcry; not only was it promptly replaced several times, but a reporter wrote a sentimental fable about it that was well-received by the general public.

Twenty-five years later, Claymont celebrates the weed with a literal parade of cheerleaders, marching bands, and fire trucks. Resident Barbara Harbin, who organizes the festivities, understands the appeal.

"We say it represents Claymont. We're not pretty, but we're plucky. We are resilient, and we keep coming back."

Potential Preaching Angles:

One secret of Christmas joy is that blessings come from unexpected places in unexpected form. The young, the vulnerable, the rejected... those tend to be the vessels that God chooses for his glory.

According to the National Geographic website (their kids' version that is) the Pufferfish can inflate into a ball shape to evade predators. Also known as blowfish, these clumsy swimmers fill their elastic stomachs with huge amounts of water (and sometimes air) and blow themselves up to several times their normal size … But these blow-up fish aren't just cute. Most pufferfish contain a toxic substance that makes them foul tasting and potentially deadly to other fish. The toxin is deadly to humans—1,200 times more deadly than cyanide. There is enough poison in one pufferfish to kill 30 adult humans, and there is no known antidote.

Like Pufferfish, human beings can blow themselves up with pride and arrogance to make themselves look bigger than they are. And this pride can become toxic to a marriage, a church, or a friendship. No wonder the late Bible scholar John Stott once said, "Pride is your greatest enemy, humility is your greatest friend."

Did you know that the Pope gave a TED Talk? Whatever you think about the Catholic Church or it's current spiritual leader, he offered these biblically based words about the use of power:

The more powerful you are, the more your actions will have an impact on people, the more responsible you are to act humbly. If you don't, your power will ruin you, and you will ruin the other. There is a saying in Argentina: "Power is like drinking gin on an empty stomach." You feel dizzy, you get drunk, you lose your balance, and you will end up hurting yourself and those around you, if you don't connect your power with humility and tenderness. Through [Christ-like] humility and concrete love, on the other hand, power—the highest, the strongest one—becomes a service, a force for good.

An article in the New York Times observes how "humility is not what it used to be." As a matter of fact, it may be the exact opposite of what it used to mean:

Lately it's pro forma—possibly even mandatory—for politicians, athletes, celebrities, and other public figures to be vocally and vigorously humbled by every honor awarded, prize won, job offered, record broken, pound lost, shout-out received, "like" copped and thumb upped.

Diving at random into the internet and social media finds this new humility everywhere. A soap-opera actress on tour is humbled by the outpouring of love from fans. Comedians are humbled by big laughs, yoga practitioners are humbled by achieving difficult poses, athletes are humbled by good days on the field, Christmas volunteers are humbled by their own generosity and holiday spirit.

And yet none of these people sound very "humbled" at all. On the contrary: They all seem exceedingly proud of themselves, hashtagging their humility to advertise their own status, success, sprightliness, generosity, moral superiority, and luck. When did humility get so cocky and vainglorious?

Once upon a time there was a frog who lived in the north and wanted to go south for the winter as the swans did. Each year that frog watched the swans fly south while he shivered in the snow and cold. Then he got an idea. He went to the swans and asked to go with them. "You can't fly!" they responded.

"I know," the frog said, "but I have a wonderful idea. Let me get a stick and if two of you will help me, I can go with you. Two of you could keep the ends of the stick in your beaks and I could hang on to the middle of the stick and get out of this miserable cold weather."

So two of his swan friends agreed to help and it worked beautifully for many miles. However as they were flying low over the farmlands of North Carolina, a farmer looked up and saw the frog holding onto the stick. "Look at that!" he shouted to a friend, "That's amazing! Wonder whose idea that was?"

The frog, quite proud of his incredible idea, opened his mouth to tell them. That's when he fell to his death.

Possible Preaching Angles: Author Steve Brown comments on this story: "Pride and self-righteousness are the most dangerous places for a Christian to live."

The Chinese-American Christian leader Russell Jeung explains how his father taught him a profound lesson on the true nature of humility. Due to the maltreatment of many Chinese immigrants in America, Russell's dad taught him to work hard. But he also taught him he should not consider himself better than anyone else, even if successful.

"As the youngest child in my family," Russell explains, "my job at Chinese banquets was to make sure everyone's teacup was kept full. My dad, without fail, reminded me at these meals to be alert to the needs of others. I think he took as much pride in seeing me serve food to dinner guests as he did in seeing me get good grades."

Russell reinforces this concept of humility by pointing to the Chinese characters making up the words for humility—Qiang xun.

"Qiang means to have a yielding spirit, not seeking one's own pride or recognition. It pictures someone speaking while holding shafts of grain together, suggesting that words of humility prioritize the unity and harmony of the group first. Xun is the pictograph of the way a grandchild walks. We are to see ourselves like children, moving and acting in deference to our wiser elders."

This shouldn't come as a surprise, but a study reports self-regard, self-promotion, and plain old bragging are far more prominent in pop music than they were a quarter-century ago. The authors of the study note that, in 1990, blatant bragging was basically confined to rap music. The study analyzed the lyrics of the top 100 songs from the years 1990, 2000, and 2010, as compiled by Billboard magazine. Coders looked for examples of eight categories of self-promotion, including referring to oneself by name and demanding respect.

The study concluded:

Compared with earlier years, songs in 2010 were more likely to include the singer referring to the self by name, general self-promotion, and bragging about wealth, partner's appearance, or sexual prowess. A similar, albeit nonsignificant increase, was also seen for bragging about musical prowess and demands for respect.

The researchers added a warning:

Music both reflects and influences the values of the culture. The hit songs we listen to "both represent the increasing individualistic/narcissistic tendencies in the culture, but also further convey that promoting oneself through bragging, demands for respect, and self-focus is acceptable … [Therefore], parents, educators, and those responsible for policy should consider how strongly individualistic messages influence young people and work to provide messages and opportunities that also advocate communal values.

Possible Preaching Angles: Although the conclusions to this study seem obvious, the comments from the researchers should challenge parents and churches to provide an alternative to this example of self-promotion.

In the 1840s a court case based in Chicago captured the attention of the entire nation. Labeled "The Reaper Case," it centered on the patenting of farm equipment invented by Cyrus McCormick. At the time the case had such high-stakes that legal rock stars from the East Coast trekked to the Midwest to take on the case. But since the judge was from Illinois, these Ivy League trained lawyers decided to add a local lawyer to their legal team. So after working their networks, they found an obscure, small town lawyer to join their high-powered team.

When the high-powered, sophisticated Ivy League lawyers met their new teammate, they were stunned. He was poorly dressed and disheveled. He spoke with a strong small town accent and used folksy vernacular phrases. In short, he was a country bumpkin. One of the team's leading lawyers, a man named Edwin Stanton, said in this small town lawyer's presence, "Let's do away with this ape." Then they did what any immature men would do. They ditched him. They would have meals without him. They would tell him different times for the court case to be tried, and then they would get there earlier and the court case would be going on. They viewed him as someone of very significant insignificance.

Stanton won the case. He went on to become one of the leading lights in the American legal profession and politics. As a matter of fact, he became the Secretary of War during the Civil War. But much to his shock he went to work for the one he called "ape." It was Abraham Lincoln, whose incredible significance was not known until the very last years of his life.

In the early 1970s, a psychologist at named David Kipnis wanted to know if power really does corrupt people. So in a series of experiments, Kipnis had subjects assume the role of "manager" over a group of "employees" in a fictitious work situation. In some cases, Kipnis gave the managers very little power. In other cases, the managers had considerable power: they decided whether employees were fired, transferred, or promoted. The bosses with more power were more likely to use coercive or "strong tactics," such as criticizing employees, making demands, and displaying anger. They were more dismissive of an employees' performance, and tended to credit themselves for their employees' success. Powerful bosses were also more likely to keep a psychological distance between themselves and their employees. Kipnis concluded that having power inflates our sense of self and makes us less able to empathize with those lacking power.

In a another 2012 study, another researcher named Paul Piff had subjects play a two-person game of Monopoly in which power was intentionally skewed: one player was given a wad of cash and the use of both dice, while the other player received only half the cash and one die. Within minutes, the subjects with more cash and dice (the "high-status players") began acting noticeably different. They hogged the space at the table, made less eye contact, and took more liberties, such as moving the low-status players' game pieces for them. They also made more noise when they moved their own pieces. Everyone knew the game was rigged, and yet within a few minutes the roles crystallized and the high-status players started pushing people around and acting like they had real power and status.

The conclusion of both experiments? A little bit of power really does corrupt ordinary people, even when it's just a game.

On July 8, 1838, the seventh president of the United States, General Andrew Jackson, informed his minister, the Reverend Dr. John Edgar, that he wanted to become a member of the Presbyterian Church and receive Communion. Dr. Edgar asked the president about his conversion and convictions, and gave his approving nod with each satisfactory answer. But Dr. Edgar felt the need to probe the president's soul more deeply. "General, there is one more question which it is my duty to ask you: Can you forgive all your enemies?"

The question stunned General Jackson. He stared at his minister for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. He then broke the silence: "My political enemies, I can freely forgive," Jackson confessed. "But as for those who abused me when I was serving my country in the field, and those who attacked me for serving my country—that is a different case."

This was an honest answer, but Dr. Edgar wasn't satisfied. Christians must forgive all, Edgar insisted to America's seventh president. President Jackson wasn't anticipating that he would be probed and questioned in this way. And yet when the time came for him to respond, he knew he had to embrace the claim of the gospel on his life. One of Jackson's biographers gives us his response:

There was a "considerable pause." Then Jackson spoke again. Upon reflection, he said he thought he could forgive all who had injured him, even those who reviled him for his services to his country on the battlefield. He was at long last prepared to grant amnesty to all the scoundrels and poltroons who had ever crossed his path.

On July 15, 1838, General Andrew Jackson, seventh president of the United States, was admitted into the Presbyterian Church. He was seventy years old when his battle-weathered soul and tired body knelt to receive Communion for the first time. And as he did, his biographer tells us, "tears of penitence and joy trickled down his careworn cheeks." Meekness had triumphed.

NPR ran a moving story about a father and son that aired on the hit radio show "This American Life." The episode titled "Know When to Fold 'Em" focuses on David Dickerson's return to the Christian household he had not visited since he left for college. About ten years later, as a hostile 28-year-old, Dickerson wants to undermine his father's "repressive" faith. On the show David says,

I had all this ammunition, and I couldn't wait to use it … And I remember thinking, this is a showdown because my dad and I were at war. My dad didn't know this, but I was at war with him. I was at war with all Christians, and I was just waiting for an excuse to have a shot.

So when his father innocently mentioned some mission work he'd been praying about, David unleashed his fury:

I just rambled on like this. And I knew, essentially, while I was doing this, I was also assaulting his dream. You know, saying everything he was excited about, that he was sharing with me, was misbegotten, was a bad idea, was morally corrupt …. And he just kind of quietly let me do my thing.

David's father let him expend every round of ammunition without arguing or retreating. He simply looked at David and said, "David, I'm really proud of everything you've done." David concluded the show by saying,

And I remember looking at my dad, and I thought—I had sort of expected to argue …. You know, not to win, but to come to some kind of armistice. You know, some kind of truce …. I hadn't expected to lose completely, because you can't argue with decency. You can't argue with goodness.