Does This Blog Make Me Look Fat?

No man ever wants to comment on a woman’s weight. Even when pressed to be honest, we know it’s just a no win situation and you need to back away slowly. I mean swiftly.

Similarly, few people are willing to talk about pride. The problem with pointing out pride, noticing those those specks of self-promotion in others, is that darn 2×4 that gets in the way.

Those in the arts — writers, painters, sculptors, dancers, designers, poets, singers — are really in the business of pride. We want the applause, gravitating toward those who appreciate our talent and turning our backs on those who don’t give us kudos. It’s just human nature.

There is nothing more gratifying than someone telling me that they have been touched, or blessed, or inspired by my written or spoken word. It keeps me going. It’s the go-juice that I drink that gives me the gumption to do it again. But it’s a world that is so fraught with danger, that we must guard continually against.

For as long as I’ve been doing this, you would think that I’d have a big audience, books to my name, and praises from around the globe. However I don’t, because this blog makes me look fat. And I’m completely comfortable with where I’m at in life. I’d rather be honest than popular.

I always struggle with transparency, trying to root out the superficial that clogs my brain and trips me up. I could twist words to play on emotions, to evoke a response. I could say things that elevate my insight, my maturity and my obedience. I could pull the chair over and stand it so I’d be a little taller. And maybe people would be fooled — for a while.

My ear strains to catch someone talking about me. My heart puffs when good things are said. My hidden soul is propped by the good words of strangers. But having fallen more than once, I know the pitfalls of a prideful life.

And even writing about it plays on that ugly part of me. I’ve heard a voice saying exactly this, “Maybe they’ll think I’m humble because I’m talking about pride.” Sheesh. What a mess!

So I ask God to help with humility, knowing it’s not always pretty. And sometimes, the only way to get it, is to be humiliated.