a humble mind and a tender heart

I was surrounded by country churches in South Georgia and North Florida. Baptist, Methodist, Church of Christ, Church of God and A.M.E. churches could be found on all the dirt back roads and narrow paved roads in the county. Usually they were built out of concrete block or wood, painted white with front porches and azalea bushes flanking the front entry. Modest and unassuming, pine pews, short steeples and dirt parking lots were shared architectural features for all these churches whatever their denominational label. Town churches had stained glass, brick and multiple levels. Short steeple country churches couldn’t afford the outward show. We were farm and mill families who didn’t have much status or power in our communities or political system. Humility was our daily bread.
Humility seems to be a forgotten virtue. When I look at churches’ descriptions of themselves, I see importance placed on being special, unique, friendlier, better than, peace and justice, (and my least favorite) exciting. When I look at myself, I see a person who wants to be different from all the rest, set apart from the thundering herd by my extraordinariness. I am no better than the institutional church in my need to be singled out as special.
Jesus had a different vision. His students, like children will do, got into an argument over who was the best and the greatest and most loved. Jesus had an answer for their competition. He pulled a child out of the crowd and held the child at his side. Children have no power, no voice that can be heard by those who make a difference. They are at the mercy of the adults who surround them. “Whoever receives this child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me; for he who is least among you all is the one who is great.” Can’t you see it? Now the competition becomes who will be least.
As Lent approaches, I have been searching for my focus. Daily Bible readings, denominational themes, and devotional books compete for my attention. This year I am going to make the practice of being the least among you my Lenten gift to God. I will practice humility hoping that the practice will as my Grandma said, make perfect. What a paradox... the perfection of the imperfect.
I am the daughter of a man who was intelligent and valued education. He spoke his opinions often with a firm belief in his ability to reason and understand. His quick tongue could scald those who stood too near when they disagreed with him. Verbal intensity was his stock in trade. In self defense, I learned the skills of a quick retort and a nimble tongue. It became a game of sorts and I excelled. It was a gift and a curse. Like Daddy, I am not patient with slow tongues and baffled minds. So this passage from First Peter stopped me short.
“Finally, all of you, have unity of spirit, sympathy, love of the brethren, a tender heart and a humble mind.” 1 Peter 3:8 Maybe I cannot achieve humility in all of my life but perhaps I can cultivate a humble mind. My quick tongue that is connected to a multi-layered quicksilver ADD mind might slow down. And in the conscious slowing down of my mind, perhaps I might find room for connection to other minds that are created differently from mine. My pride in being smart and well read and articulate can be set aside for a higher good. Tenderness of heart and humility in mind...my daily discipline for Lent. This is going to be much more difficult than giving up chocolate!
Please, God, help me detach from my pride in mind and tongue. Give me a tender heart that seeks only to draw closer to you and to your other little children. Grant me the gift of humility so that I might see your face in all the faces that surround me. Slow my mind down, Lord so that I might think clearly, rightly dividing the Truth that lives in all of us. Amen.