Battling my pride

“Get the kids out of the chairs and keep them busy.”

These were the words spoken by the pastor at our youth rally, which took place on the basketball court in front of the church. The basketball court that also serves as the playground for 100+ children. Chairs were set up, the band was playing, we were ready to begin. And that is when the pastor told me to “Get the kids out of the chairs” so that there were chairs for the youth (the 14-24 year olds we were targeting for this rally).

I was annoyed. And frustrated. And confused. And angry.

This was not my job. My role for the evening was to be a prayer warrior and prayer before, during, and after the rally. I had been told NOTHING about keeping the kids distracted. Besides, what am I supposed to do with 50-100 kids who speak little English, and who are used to having the whole court to play on? I allowed my frustration and anger to boil over and gave some annoyed looks and sharp words. I made it clear that I DID NOT appreciate the job I was given.

Reluctantly, I started a game of Duck, Duck, Goose, as it was a game they already knew and I didn’t have to explain. We sat at one end of the basketball court, just a few yards away from the rally, and the kids began to play. They laughed and talked and yelled. They were loud. And I didn’t care. I didn’t care because I was told to keep them busy, which I was doing, but I wasn’t going to do any more than that and I wasn’t even going to attempt the seemingly impossible task of keeping them quiet.

After a little while, kids started getting up from the game and I moved onto a form of “Follow the Leader” which only one child caught onto. The kids formed smaller groups to play and actually got a little quieter. I ended up talking to and playing with two children, a brother and sister, Christopher and Ashley, and soon actually started enjoying myself. Their English was pretty good and they sang to me and danced for me. They told me I was beautiful and they loved me. They hugged me repeatedly. I finally allowed myself to enjoy my time with them and forget about the events of earlier that day.

Or did I?

The next morning, I vented about the whole thing to one of my teammates, who had been sick and missed the rally. Her response stung, but it caused me to examine my heart.

And as I examined my heart, I saw my pride.

I was brought back to several things that happened in the past couple months, and particularly to the night one of my squad leaders, Carly, challenged us to ask God the question, “What do I need?” His answer was “Humility.”

“WHAT?!” I questioned! “That’s something people have praised me for! How can You say I’m not humble, God?”

Obviously the true response of a humble person, right?!

As I look back at that response, I’m so ashamed and remember the phrase, “If you think you’re a humble person, you’re probably not.”

The next morning during worship, we sang “Break down our pride and all the walls we’ve built up inside.”

And I saw it: my pride.

I battle it each day.

Pride keeps me from seeing others as God sees them. It keeps me from seeking Him and serving Him with all of me. It keeps me from having a relationship with Him, and it keeps me from loving my teammates as I should. It keeps me from choosing joy in each and every situation and ministry. It keeps me from truly loving the people He gives me to love.