Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty right hand, that he may lift you up in due time. 1Peter 5:6
Fresh, Maine blueberry pie is my favorite dessert. Add a dab of sweet whipped cream and it's heaven in my mouth. But lately, humble pie's been the only thing on the menu. It's rather bitter and hard to swallow regardless of how it's served.
Avoidance is my first instinct even when it's served steaming hot on a cool plate right there in front of me. Walking away seems easier, but when I circle back, it's still sitting there. Digging into a cold, stale piece of humble pie is worse than choking it down all hot and steamy.
Hot or cold, it's never easy, but this time I got served a double portion.
I picked up my fork and cut into the first piece. It held a hint of sweetener and a pinch of hope and with a comforting cup of hot coffee and a few encouraging words it slid down rather easily. The second piece? Not so much.
Still digesting my first humble piece, the second portion came by surprise and yet, by my own hand. My selfish pride spoke out of turn and careless words served hot off my tongue landed heavy on my sister's heart. When she served up my second piece, I heaved a heavy sigh, realizing what I'd done. My stomach churned.
Laced with pride, I hesitated cutting into this piece. Pride always tastes bitter no matter how much sweetener it holds. It's goal is right-ness even when you're wrong and I wanted to be right even with that second piece of truth sitting right there in front of me. The longer I avoided truth, the more unhappy, anxious and bitter I became.
I finally invited her to sit with me while I choked down my pride. I admitted my
wrong-ness, begged her forgiveness and she offered me grace. That made all the difference, like a dab of sweet whipped cream.