For the last two and a half months my brain has absorbed hundreds of new words and phrases found in the three countries we’ve visited so far. For a lover of language like myself, one of the fun parts about being in a different country every month is that you learn so many different ways to greet someone. Month 1 in Belgrade, Serbia, we said dobar dan at the corner shop when buying bus passes. In Draganesti-Olt, Romania, we said buna ziua on the way to morning worship. This afternoon in Plovdiv, Bulgaria, I was greeted at the cafe with a friendly zdravei?te. I’ve found myself an odd mess of linguistic confusion lately because I can start a conversation in one tongue and end it in another. It’s so silly to be approached by locals who think you’ll understand and usually end up with a dazed look on their face when you respond with, “haha, no speak-a Bulgarian!!!!”
Though it’s been a blast learning and making mistakes with the confusing structure of Balkan linguistics, there’s been a difficult side, too: learning cyrillic.
If you’ve never been to a city where all the signage is in this odd alien-like mess of symbols, let me explain with this photo of a magazine at the cafe the other night.
For some reason, the cyrillic alphabet is something I just haven’t been able to wrap my head around. Certain letters make sense; I can remember that when I see a “P” it’s actually an “R” and when I see a “C” I can sound it out like an “S”. But those ones that look like the alien language I invented in third grade, they throw me off every time.
This month I’ve often found myself irritated at the fact that I can’t even read the gelato name tags and have subsequently tasted some new and interesting Bulgarian ice cream flavors. I’ve found myself asking why my mind can’t wrap itself around this seemingly simple new alphabet. I usually can do this kind of thing on my own; I taught myself most of the Italian I know, so where’s the disconnect now?
Why can’t I work up the courage to just ask a local to sit down and teach me? What’s actually blocking me from understanding?
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: my pride.
It turns out I’m too prideful to admit I can’t do it on my own. That I actually do need help and if I don’t admit my lack of humility I’ll end up not only missing out on a chance to read and understand a beautifully ancient language, but also an array of unknown opportunities that I may have had if I was able to read a sign, or a name tag, or a book cover. I can’t exactly tell you what those chances may have been, but irrelevantly I still relate my pridefulness to a lack of desire to admit I need help. Many times this year I’ve found myself in a situation where I could:
a. admit I need help and allow my team or others to give it to me, or
b. uphold my stubbornness and try to get it done on my own, which in turn allows me to
c. create an environment in which I am alone and unable to allow Jesus to love me through intentional relationships he’s placed me into.
Over the last three months Jesus has continued to break down my pride walls as he started doing when I first realized I had to raise $17,000 for this experience to happen. I quickly learned (after doing hours of math equations) that I would not be able to fully fund myself without help from others. Now He’s teaching me that I can ask the waitress if she has an English menu. I can ask my host to grab a coffee with me to go over some cyrillic structure. I can challenge my teammates to help me rely on Jesus and them more instead of being so independent.
Pride is the root of being unable to admit we need help. It builds walls and barricades in order to isolate us from the full potential we have in Christ-centered community. Tiny glimpses of the way God created it to be have been shown to me through my team and through people I’ve met along the way, and now I’m ready for more. The Lord challenges us to step away from our selfish ambitions of desiring to be strong enough to do things on our own so that we can walk in the humility Jesus embodied. The Word says:
“Pride leads to disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.” (Proverbs 11:2)
As I learn what it looks like to shine with humility, the excitement of knowing I’m also learning to walk in wisdom encourages me to keep going. Our ultimate goal is to look like Jesus; so why hold on to things that aren’t from Him? All of God’s gifts are for us, for our good – therefore I am obliged to step out, act a fool if necessary, and ask for help. Who cares if I look silly? It’s part of being a Jesus-follower; persecution is promised for those who choose to follow Him.* I am taking steps toward being fully dependent on Him to replace my pride with His beautiful humble hear. And I’m excited to be able to read a menu.
*2 Timothy 3:12, John 15:20
ps. I’ve been trying to learn how to perfect my heel click; it’s not going very well.
