Pride Cometh before the fall. We have all heard these words many times but I don't know about you but I didn't understand what that really meant. I have heard it over and over but always thought "pride" meant just being proud and boastful. More boastful than proud. I truly did not understand why pride is so destructive until recently.I was brought up in an Italian Catholic home where you were told to hold your head high and don't take any help from anyone. That would be shameful and weak. You must be independent and do everything perfect!
What I didn't notice was all the critical undertones and constant ridicule that was going on. It was so consistent it became normal. I knew nothing else.
Until God got a hold of me and began to teach me through His word that this behavior is not glorifying to him. What a battle was ahead of me. It has taken years to peel away the layers of pain that built up because of wrong teaching. My pride rears its ugly head from time to time but the Holy Spirit is quick to convict and I listen and I change.
How could I be proud of myself. I did everything wrong, didn't I?
Wasn't what I just did not perfect? I had to make it better. Everyone around me had to be better. I could do it all; raise my child, take care of my husband, work, and come home and take care of our home. I was always beating myself up.
Yet I was told I was engulfed in pride. I didn't understand that at all. "I'm not proud" I would say to myself. "What are they talking about? I'm a kind, caring and loving person who puts everyone else before myself. I didn't understand that I had this hard shell that no one could penetrate.
I wouldn't let anyone help me. I wouldn't let anyone close.
I told my family everything they did wrong and never praised them for what they did right.
I was growing into what I have realized is "codependent".
This caused even more problems. It helped me marry an alcoholic, twice. I was the caregiver, the fixer. I was better and in more control of myself. I was stable and they were not. I liked this role. It made me feel like I was doing something right. I could be proud of myself. God showed me how wrong I was. He showed me how much I was hurting the people around me and myself in turn. He showed me by breaking me to the point I had to be so dependent on others to help me that I wanted to scream. I was so ashamed and embarrassed that I could not put the pieces back together without the help of my family and friends. I had no choice but to accept I could do nothing for myself. I lost everything and blamed everyone else. They had the problem. God was my only hope and he had a big lesson for me. I had no idea what good could come out of all the wreckage. What I found, though, was that I had to be willing to listen to Him. I had to be willing to hear the words I did not like, words that said "you are thinking and behaving in a way that is not edifying to others or glorifying to God and this is the way God wants you to talk to people. This is how God wants you to behave and by the way, Pride cometh before the fall!"
My pride kept me from getting help. My pride kept me from allowing others to love me, to serve me.
Those who tried didn't have a chance. I was going to win. If they were a friend they left. They could leave. If they did not leave it was because we were familiar. I see now they were controlling, critical, always trying to change me. They were like me. If they were my family they found a way out that ended up putting them on a path of their own self destruction. They didn't leave me but they still left me. My first husband ended up dying from the disease. I don't blame myself for anyone's addiction but I do acknowledge my part in their downward spiral and difficult recovery.
My son suffered under my wrath. He loved me so much and was so afraid of losing me that he found his own way to cope. He also has a very hard time accepting any help from anyone. But he is in a much better place to heal from this destructive force in our family called pride because he has the wisdom to listen to God's word. We work together and he is very patient with me. He is healing and on his way to becoming "prideless". His family and children will grow up knowing how special they are and that being proud of yourself is ok but comes from being righteous in the eyes of God, not from "being perfect". This is the GOOD that God has made out of the wreckage.
I can see that God is still working on me and in me. I fall back into patterns but less frequently.
I stop to listen when the wisdom of another rings true.
I run to my rock, my fortress, my deliverer.
I say I'm sorry. I ask for forgiveness. I repent.
The biggest problem that has risen out of this new revelation (new because it's been the past ten years of my 50 years of life) is that I find myself wanting to share it with certain members of my family and when they don't receive it I get frustrated. This is my new battle, my new pride to overcome.
I didn't say this was an easy or short term journey.
It is not.
It is hard.
It is an uphill climb.
It is like hitting a tennis ball onto a wall and expecting it not to fly right back at me.
I have to arm myself with the Armor of God (Ephesians 6:10-18) so the ball bounces off me or gently goes through me. Without it I am ill prepared for this battle.
My desire to please God and have peace and joy gives me the endurance to keep going and growing.
Pursuing to have in me The Fruit of the Spirit (Galations 5:22) is another wonderful way for me to ultimately achieve victory!
