Courageous Humility
2 Samuel 12:1-9; Ephesians 5:15-28
A Sermon Delivered by Dr. Tom Boone
Central Presbyterian Church, Mobile, August 6, 2007

A pastor one time decided to preach about humility. So, he got on his knees and prayed, “Lord, help me learn about humility so that I can preach with boldness the best sermon that anyone has ever heard.” No other character trait reminds us more about our humanity than humility. I came across a joke that makes the point well.

A number of the world’s most gifted scientists scheduled a meeting with God. In their pride, they were confident they could get along without Him. They thanked God for starting the human race, but now, they said, they “know everything.” They can even clone humans and understand the mystery of the atom. So they told God to leave them alone, because the human race can get along just fine without Him. God replied, “It’s up to you. But are you sure you know it all? What if I asked you to create a human?” The scientists replied, “We can do that; we cloned one last year.” God said, “No, I mean like we did in Genesis.” The scientists, now a little daunted, looked at the ground and replied, “You mean make a human out of dirt?” God said, “No, you first need to make the dirt” (D. Nabers, The Case for Character, 80).

We like to think we’ve achieved so much, and we have, but, mastery over the material world isn’t the only way we’ve deceived ourselves into thinking we’re better than we really are. People who reach the highest point in their career can fall prey to this illusion, and so can those who’ve performed well in school. Or maybe you live in a divorce-free family with the 2-something kids, house, dog, and yard. Maybe you’ve never been fired or downsized to the unemployment line. Maybe you’re the model volunteer with kids who’ve gone to great schools. It’s easy to forget how indebted we are to God and when that happens God has a way of allowing reality checks to happen in our lives. That’s exactly what happened with David.

Here we have a guy who wasn’t supposed to amount to much, but who ended up becoming the most powerful man of his nation. He graduated from defending sheep from mountain lions to defending a nation against marauders who wanted control of the trade routes with Egypt. The lanky runt of the litter traded in a rope belt for a gold scepter. He started life at a no-name address in a po-dunk town. By his twenties throngs regaled his name more than they did the King, and he traded in that no-name address for a room at the palace in Jerusalem. But, what eventually happened to David was no different than what happens to many people who experience success: he forgot that his success was by grace alone. He forgot that he was anointed King not because he earned it or deserved it, but because he was someone whose success would show everyone how great God was.

And once David had forgotten these two very important things he was susceptible to the temptations of pride. One of the big ones came when he took time off. It was the season of battles and during this time Kings led their armies into battle against enemy states to settle scores. But, this year he decided he didn’t need to do it. He had earned a chance to stay home and enjoy his success. That was his first mistake. One of those generals, named Uriah, had a beautiful wife and when David saw her he made his second mistake. He was King, he could have any woman he wanted, married or not. It was one of the privileges of office, or so all the diplomats he dealt with told him. So, he listened to their wisdom that was running through his head rather than to the quieter voice of the Lord who’d have had a few other things to say. That led to his fourth mistake, the act that had begun in his mind.

Fast forward a bit and we discover that his violation had produced an illegitimate child, not yet born. Immediately he was consumed, not by the humility of having committed adultery with the wife of one of his best generals, but by the urgency to undo his mistake. He was David, he was King, he was the man who could slay tens of thousands. Fixing this one problem with Bathsheba wouldn’t be a big deal; he could do it. Mistake number five.

And the next series of mistakes was in all the plotting and foiled attempts to make his problem go away, culminating in his decision to kill Bathsheba’s husband on the battlefield. He told his army to pull back once Uriah and his command were in the heat of battle on the front line. Uriah died: problem fixed, or so David thought. That’s when we encounter Nathan confronting David about his sin, which began from the simple decision to buy into the self-centered and prideful notion that he was the reason for his success. David’s humility comes as he realizes what he has done by the words of a prophet. Anyone who has been humbled like David can probably relate to how he felt at that moment.

You and I haven’t ever have experienced the type of success that David had, but I think there are parts about his story that make each of us gulp hard. How many times have we only added to our messes by trying to work our way out of them by our own efforts? We get a glimpse of success and we want to claim credit, but let’s look at that for a moment. Who gave you the ability? Who gave you the DNA? Who gave you the circumstances that made succeeding easier? Who put certain teachers in your path? Who made it possible for you to work in peace while under great stress? Who was it that was praying over you? Humility means knowing who really deserves the credit and when we find ourselves in a pickle it’s about turning to God who has brought us thus far.

The essence of humility is to submit ourselves, first to God and then to others. Jesus, whom Paul describes in Colossians as the One through Whom all things were made and Who holds all things together (1:16-17), is the One Who in Matthew came “not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (20:28).

There’s a story of a rabbi who lived in a small Russian town, who’d disappear for several hours each Friday. His students said that those were the hours where he would ascend to heaven and talk with God. A stranger moved into town and was skeptical of the reports about the rabbi. He decided to hide and watch what the rabbi did one Friday morning. That morning, the rabbi said his prayers, dressed in peasant clothing, and then, grabbing an axe, headed off into the woods. There he cut some firewood, which he afterward hauled to a shack on the outskirts of the town--the home of a widow and her sick son. The rabbi left the pair enough fuel for a week and then snuck back home. Having observed the rabbi’s actions, the stranger stayed on in the village and became the rabbi’s student. And whenever he would hear one of the villagers say, “On Friday morning our rabbi ascends all the way to heaven,” the newcomer would quietly add, “If not higher.”

How many times this week has God put into your path someone who has a need? How many times this month or year? And how many times have you rushed by on account of your busy schedule, self-conceived excuses, or because you didn’t like the smell of the situation? Jonathon Edwards wrote, “All, everything in grace, is calculated to bring humility into the hearts of man.” What experiences or people has God put into your path that may be inconvenient, but which are tools to grow humility in your heart?

It’s easy to relegate someone to the sidewalk, or label someone we disagree with in a way that makes them less than what they are in God’s eyes. It’s easier to lift ourselves on a platform with our shoes squarely planted on the heads of those we don’t agree with or like. But I’ll tell you what’s not easy, and that’s to see others as people for whom Christ has died, just like you. Therein lies the challenge that makes humility a courageous virtue, which brings us to the Ephesians passage.

Submitting ourselves to one another doesn’t mean becoming the slave of someone who wants to hurt us. Let me tell you something you may not realize about submission in Ephesians 5. The case for mutual submission is built upon the curse in Genesis 3. To the woman in Genesis 3 God says “your desire shall be for your husband,” and the word for desire here is teshukatek. Folks, if you’ve thought all along that this was a loving word I have news for you. The noun shuk literally means “a longing to devour,” and describes how a lion might “desire” an antelope. The second part of the curse is that the husband will rule over the wife. Do you get what’s being said? As a result of Adam and Eve’s disobedience and pride they lost their focus on God and their own humility. As a result, they viewed each other as an object to be conquered. From that point forward humanity has been locked in the struggle of power against each other.

To all this the author of Ephesians proposes an alternative method for living, which keeps Christ in the center. If there is to be a battle between people, it should be a battle over who can outdo the other in terms of affirmation and helping someone else to be the most that God designed him or her to be. We submit ourselves to one another. We love each other as Christ loved, which is humbly. We deny ourselves for the sake of another.

Douglas Freeman wrote an account of Robert E. Lee’s life, and in one of his concluding paragraphs he wrote: “Had his life been epitomized in one sentence of the Book he read so often, it would have been in the words, ‘If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.’ And if one, only one, of all the myriad incidents of his stirring life had to be selected to typify his message, as a man, to the young American who stood in hushed awe that rainy October morning as their parents wept at the passing of the Southern Arthur, who would hesitate in selecting that incident? It occurred in Northern Virginia, probably on his last visit there. A young mother brought her baby to him to be blessed. He took the infant in his arms and looked at it and then at her and slowly said, ‘Teach him he must deny himself’” (D. S. Freeman, Lee, 588).

This may be all well and good, but if you’re at all like me you wonder more about how humility looks. Humility looks like a woman whose husband left her. Years later she looked back and realized that she had much to be forgiven in her decisions to choose children and then career over the man she said she loved. “I had much to learn about how to love well,” she admitted.

Humility is about a parent who’s able to hear God’s voice speaking to him or her through the protestations and emotions of a child or teenager. Humility happens whenever a child or teenager is able to wake up and realize that their parents know a thing or two and thank them. I’ve heard that happens around age 30-something.

Humility happens when once-large and prosperous congregations are able to face reality and take risks in program, mission, staffing, and finances to turn the tide with God’s help. It may not be like it was for these congregations, and Central is just one of many, but their attitudes about rebuilding reflect “Whatever, Lord. If it brings You glory, then we’ll do whatever.”

Humility is about moving forward despite our brokenness rather than becoming lost in a sea of self-accusation. Humility happens when we realize that together we’re a bunch of cracked pots, but we have the Spirit of God in us. Sure, we’ve made mistakes, we’ve been broken, and we may even have caused brokenness. So, like David, we confess, repent, we pay the penance, then we move on because we really believe God loves each of us who have faith in Jesus yet make mistakes as humans will do. And it’s because of this love He has for us cracked pots that we say Hallelujah. Amen.