A good friend was speaking on humility and it forever changed my worldview. She described humility, as defined in the original Hebrew text, as "harnessed strength." True humility is far from passive or acquiescence.
In it's original language humility was used to describe a wild stallion that had to be broken, brought under rein. Its fierceness, strength and passion are still there, but now it's used for good. It has been yielded.
Boy, I feel that tension deep within me. There is a core question that rises up in me again and again and again as I navigate the many minefields of the decade of the thirties.
Will I yield?
Earlier this year a mentor of mine pointed out something truly amazing. The word "astounded" is only used by Jesus once in the Bible. The lone reference is his astonishment at the Centurion soldier. When I heard that it stopped me in my tracks. I thought to myself, "What is it about the heart of man that could have astonished Jesus?"
The story of the centurion soldier is found in the gospel of Matthew in chapter 8:5-13. As the story goes, Jesus was astounded by the faith of the centurion soldier as it relates to his understanding of authority. The centurion was a powerful man, in command over many other soldiers. Yet he was also a man under authority, yielding to a higher king. He understood authority. He understood strength and power, yielded, in the service of a greater good.
Then it hit me. All of the greatest stories of heroes are men that were not operating autonomously. Rather they were men operating for a greater good, and under the authority of a leader, a kingdom. I think of Maximus in The Gladiator - the scene in the movie when he declares his true identity: "...my name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius..." As you watch the trailer of this film, it takes on an entirely deeper significance to understand Maximus as a yielded man, a man of harnessed strength. Take a moment to watch the Gladiator Trailer Here.
Oswald Chambers said
There come, many times in our initiation where every man when he must choose between humility and humiliation. In this particular rite of passage, there is seldom, if ever, a third path. It is not a question of whether we shall be broken, but how. Will we bow willingly, yielding ourselves to the Good and True, or will we resist until our own strength gives way beneath the weight of our pride? This is no light matter, for in this moment, our dignity as creatures endowed with causality is at stake. How we submit—or refuse to—determines much.
To be strong is not, as the world would have us believe, to be unyielding. The strongest steel is that which has passed through fire. The truest power is not that which asserts itself without restraint, but that which is willingly surrendered to one who is stronger and carries deep within Him Goodness of heart. The wild heart harnessed, not by force, but by love.
If you would understand this mystery, if you are truly thirsting to grow in this noble calling, I urge you to set aside an evening for an unexpected tutor. Watch The Horse Whisperer. In it, Robert Redford plays a figure not unlike the Holy Spirit—one who comes, not to break for breaking’s sake, but to restore. The horse, once mighty, is now wounded, fearful, and untrusting. Its strength has not vanished, only turned against itself. The healer does not impose, nor does he explain away the suffering. Instead, he moves with a patience fierce and unrelenting, breaking only to rebuild, humbling only to exalt. What seems to be cruelty is, in fact, the truest love.
As you watch, do not merely observe. Locate the part of you that is represented by the horse, Pilgrim. See in the whisperer the untamed, relentless love of God—the Lion who wounds that He might heal. And ask yourself: will you be humbled willingly, or will you wait until there is no choice left but humiliation?
True humility is strength, yielded.
In it's original language humility was used to describe a wild stallion that had to be broken, brought under rein. Its fierceness, strength and passion are still there, but now it's used for good. It has been yielded.
Boy, I feel that tension deep within me. There is a core question that rises up in me again and again and again as I navigate the many minefields of the decade of the thirties.
Will I yield?
Earlier this year a mentor of mine pointed out something truly amazing. The word "astounded" is only used by Jesus once in the Bible. The lone reference is his astonishment at the Centurion soldier. When I heard that it stopped me in my tracks. I thought to myself, "What is it about the heart of man that could have astonished Jesus?"
The story of the centurion soldier is found in the gospel of Matthew in chapter 8:5-13. As the story goes, Jesus was astounded by the faith of the centurion soldier as it relates to his understanding of authority. The centurion was a powerful man, in command over many other soldiers. Yet he was also a man under authority, yielding to a higher king. He understood authority. He understood strength and power, yielded, in the service of a greater good.
Then it hit me. All of the greatest stories of heroes are men that were not operating autonomously. Rather they were men operating for a greater good, and under the authority of a leader, a kingdom. I think of Maximus in The Gladiator - the scene in the movie when he declares his true identity: "...my name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius..." As you watch the trailer of this film, it takes on an entirely deeper significance to understand Maximus as a yielded man, a man of harnessed strength. Take a moment to watch the Gladiator Trailer Here.
Oswald Chambers said
"When the will of God meets the will of man, one must die."
There come, many times in our initiation where every man when he must choose between humility and humiliation. In this particular rite of passage, there is seldom, if ever, a third path. It is not a question of whether we shall be broken, but how. Will we bow willingly, yielding ourselves to the Good and True, or will we resist until our own strength gives way beneath the weight of our pride? This is no light matter, for in this moment, our dignity as creatures endowed with causality is at stake. How we submit—or refuse to—determines much.
To be strong is not, as the world would have us believe, to be unyielding. The strongest steel is that which has passed through fire. The truest power is not that which asserts itself without restraint, but that which is willingly surrendered to one who is stronger and carries deep within Him Goodness of heart. The wild heart harnessed, not by force, but by love.
If you would understand this mystery, if you are truly thirsting to grow in this noble calling, I urge you to set aside an evening for an unexpected tutor. Watch The Horse Whisperer. In it, Robert Redford plays a figure not unlike the Holy Spirit—one who comes, not to break for breaking’s sake, but to restore. The horse, once mighty, is now wounded, fearful, and untrusting. Its strength has not vanished, only turned against itself. The healer does not impose, nor does he explain away the suffering. Instead, he moves with a patience fierce and unrelenting, breaking only to rebuild, humbling only to exalt. What seems to be cruelty is, in fact, the truest love.
As you watch, do not merely observe. Locate the part of you that is represented by the horse, Pilgrim. See in the whisperer the untamed, relentless love of God—the Lion who wounds that He might heal. And ask yourself: will you be humbled willingly, or will you wait until there is no choice left but humiliation?