They said to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” They used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” Genesis 11:3-4
I had a humbling experience recently in my upper-level theology class. For a paper on the theology of being human, I chose to write about an idea I’ve been pondering for five or six years – an idea I secretly thought was both profound and maybe even original.
But part of the assignment required using ten theological sources. As I started researching, I quickly realized my “original” idea had already been explored – deeply and thoroughly – by theologians far more insightful than I had imagined. Not only had they articulated it more clearly, but they also examined dimensions I hadn’t even considered. My brilliant insight suddenly felt like child’s play.
I wasn’t trying to build a tower like in the passage above, but I was trying to make a name for myself in my own eyes or the eyes of my professor. This experience was humbling for me, but it also served as a reminder that I have more work to do in the area of Pride.
Pride is sneaky. I didn’t even notice that my pride was there until my research spotlighted it. Pride kills relationships with God and with others. The builders of the Tower of Babel did it because they wanted to feel capable without God. They wanted to feel strong, unique, and valuable without God. That feeling is a recipe for not needing God at all. Pride cuts us off from God.
One practice that we can perform to help combat our own pride is to do an act of kindness or give anonymously. Give someone an encouraging note or a gift, but don’t sign it. You can’t get the praise if they don’t know who it was.
by Aaron Bjorklund
