As I have continued reading through The Call, I noticed that Guinness begins moving in a slightly different direction. Up to this point, much of the discussion has centered around calling, purpose, vocation, community, and faithfulness.
I’m going on a 2 day holding pattern before we jump into Ch 14 of ‘The Call’ for a little prep on the turn Guinness takes in his book.
The following is a VERY difficult topic- so please bear with me!
Several years ago I came across a statement that has stayed with me ever since:
"Humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less."
Most people attribute that quote to C. S. Lewis, and whether he actually said it or not, the idea is deeply biblical.
In our culture, especially in the South- we don't do humility very well. I call it the "Aww shucks" humilty
"Aww shucks, we ain't going to be very good this year."
"Aww shucks, don't brag on that boy, it'll just give him the big head."
For a long time I misunderstood humility. I thought humility meant putting myself down, minimizing accomplishments, or pretending that strengths did not exist. I have since come to believe that this isn't humility at all. In some cases, it is simply another form of self-absorption.
A person can spend just as much time thinking about how terrible they are as another person spends thinking about how wonderful they are. In both cases, self remains at the center of attention.
Biblical humility is different.
Paul writes in Romans 12:3:
"For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment..."
I have always appreciated that phrase "sober judgment."
The older I get, the more freedom I find in that.
I am who I am because God made me, knows me, chose me, and loves me. There are things I do reasonably well. There are plenty of things I do poorly. Some strengths have served me throughout my life, and some weaknesses continue to humble me on a regular basis.
The good news is that I no longer have to spend quite so much energy trying to prove myself.
Looking back, I can see how much of life is driven by comparison. Schools compare. Athletes compare. Coaches compare. Have you ever heard this quote?
"Comparison is the thief of joy"
This is attributed to Theodore Roosevelt (although there is no definitive evidence that he ever said or wrote those exact words). Regardless of its origin, the quote carries a powerful truth: constantly measuring our lives against those of others can rob us of contentment and gratitude. When we focus on what others have achieved, possessed, or experienced, we often lose sight of our own blessings and accomplishments. True joy is found not in competing with others, but in appreciating our unique journey, embracing our gifts, and being thankful for what we have been given.
And that compare and compete model is exhausting!
There is always someone more talented. Someone more successful- more influential.
Someone with a better story, a better opportunity, a better platform, or a better season of life.
If our peace depends on winning those comparisons, we are going to live frustrated.
Paul counters:
"Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else." (Galatians 6:4)
Peter writes:
Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders. Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” (1 Peter 5:5 ESV)
That verse has become more meaningful to me over the years because I have learned that humility is not primarily about lowering yourself. It is about placing yourself properly under God.
If I allow God to be the highest- I am free to celebrate another person's success- I receive correction without collapsing. I can serve without needing recognition.I can tell the truth without worrying excessively about public approval.
None of that comes naturally AND certainly doesn't come naturally to me.
An example I have seen of humility came from a teacher who would regularly cover responsibilities for other faculty members when they forgot an assignment. What impressed me was not the act itself but the fact that nobody ever knew about it. There was no announcement. No complaint. No subtle reminder later. The need simply got handled.
Now- I have to be careful here- was that teacher PROUD of dong that? Did they hold resentment or a sense of superiority for doing that? Were they questioning whether too much help may be actually a type of co-dependence and more harm than good? Did they feel humble enougb to have a conversation in love with that other teacher to make sure she didn't carry any resentment or guilt? See how subtle and complicated humility/pride is!
Real humility is - there is something I can do to serve - glad to do it- and want no recognition... it is what we do. And if it becomes a pattern, maybe a conversation about it- "Hey are you OK?- I have noticed... I don't mind- I surely have my issues- please understand I love you- how can I help? Just tell me what you think! I'm OK- you would do the same for me!"- and be truthful about it ALL.
That kind of quiet service has always impressed me more than public displays of importance.
The same is true when I think about people who receive criticism well. I have watched teachers, coaches, and leaders respond to unfair criticism with patience and grace. It is not weakness. It is strength under control. They cared more about understanding and serving than about protecting their ego.
In storms of criticism and controversy- false humility can evaporate- There is a great example in the Bible regarding David.
When David’s warrior, Abishai, offered to kill Shimei, David stopped him, saying:
"Let him curse, because the Lord has said to him, 'Curse David.' Who then shall say, 'Why have you done so?'" (2 Samuel 16:10)
David chose not to fight back. Instead, he acknowledged that perhaps Shimei’s words, though painful, were part of God’s plan. He saw his suffering through the lens of humility and divine sovereignty.
Like David, we can ask:
What is God teaching me through this?
Is there a truth hidden in the criticism that I need to hear?
Can I trust God to be my defender instead of taking matters into my own hands?
There’s another layer to David’s humility—he doesn’t deny his own faults. David had made terrible mistakes, including his sin with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah. While Shimei’s accusations were not entirely accurate, David might have felt that some of the stones he faced were a natural consequence of his past actions.
In the same way, we often face storms of our own making. A harsh word spoken in anger comes back to haunt us. A decision made in selfishness leads to relational fallout. In those moments, we can do what David did: accept the rain, confess our shortcomings, and trust in God's mercy to bring restoration.
David’s hope in the middle of his humiliation is striking. He said:
"It may be that the Lord will look on the wrong done to me, and that the Lord will repay me with good for his cursing today." (2 Samuel 16:12)
David trusted that God saw his affliction and would act on his behalf in His own time. This trust allowed David to endure the stones without losing heart.
We, too, can find hope in the storm. God sees. God knows. And God promises that, for those who trust Him, even the worst storms will ultimately work for good (Romans 8:28).
When opposition comes your way—whether it's criticism, betrayal, or the natural consequences of your own failures—take a moment to pause. Instead of reacting in anger or despair, try adopting David’s posture:
Receive the rain with humility.
Ask God what He wants to teach you.
Trust that He sees your affliction and will bring good from it.
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