A Trip into Humility

 Here we are, still in Hawaii and with hearts full as we see and experience the generosity and commitment of all of the fellow labourers we work with here.  

Tony read to me out of Oswald’s “My Utmost for His Highest” this morning, it touched a nerve in me.  Here’s what Oswald had to say:  “Some of us always want to be illuminated saints with golden haloes and the flush of inspiration, and to have the saints of God dealing with us all the time. A gilt-edged saint is no good, he is abnormal, unfit for daily life and altogether unlike God.”  

Wow…  

That was my reaction this morning. “Wow”; and “Oh yeah, I can relate to THAT, up close and personal”. I’ve told most of you this story before, but lest I still have some glitter that needs knocking off, let me share it with you again. 

So we were working in a Japanese church in Sydney.  As with any church, there were some people in the congregation that, well, let’s just say we didn’t ‘resonate’ with.  There was a particular lady that just set me off.  I don’t want to admit that I’m a hard and selfish soul, but I have to recognize that she was flint to my steel.  Not in the Proverbs 27:17 way, but rather in the “Let’s make enough sparks together to burn something down” way. With just a word she could ignite things in me that I’d rather not admit to, turning me into a person I’d rather not be.

Maybe I’ve matured, I hope so……. but on this particular Sunday the two of us  got to talking about cream puffs.

“Oh, those are very difficult to make!” she said.

I may have felt that noose around my “pastor’s wife neck”, gently drawing me in, but it wasn’t tight enough yet so I launched out into a foray that I didn’t want to start, but there I was.  I remember the 60’s comedian Flip Wilson and his signature phrase, “The devil made me do it!” 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I boasted, my nose rising a couple of degrees.  “I make them all the time.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re mistaken. They’re really hard.  Only (she named another church lady) can actually do them”. 

Well, I remember I went home, whipped up a beautiful flawless batch and served them with creamed tuna (Eeuw) for supper.  Then I made another batch, practically with my eyes closed, for the Bible study the next day.

I slept the peace of the smug.

Next day, I shuffled the gang out for the day, and, whistling as I worked, filled the crisp puffs with fresh strawberries and (only the best) crème.

Arriving at the house, I was reviewing the adoration and accolades I would be receiving as they bit into the delicacies. And of course, I relished in my mind the look of shock and defeat on my nemeses’ face.

I was almost to the covered porch as I skipped along, holding the crème puffs high up like a French waiter.

Then it happened.  Who knew there was a tiny step between the path and the porch.  Just enough to catch a…. toe.

I fell flat onto the porch, .  The cream puffs hit the door first, with the heavy plate following at speed just to rub them into the paint before clattering to the floor.  Of course, I was right behind, skidding flat from the step to the door.  I skinned both knees and the unraised wrist.  

You can imagine the sound!  Within seconds the door flew open and the 8 or 9 women huddled together with looks of shock and awe, but not the anticipated kind I was hoping for. There was a lot more pity that adoration.

The puffs were all attached to the door, unsalvageable

Fortunately, we lived thru the day, but I couldn’t escape the knowing look of the so called ‘crèam puff expert’.  I’m sure she was saying “told you so” under her breath.

What came to mind was the verse, “Pride goeth before a fall” as it was showcased in full colour.  Thankfully, there came a day when  we were able to laugh about it.

But the part I never shared with them was the “end” of it all.

For weeks I kept trying to turn out another “award winning” batch of cream puffs, always failing miserably.  I went scientific, picking to bake on un-humid days, etc. I went traditional, I followed the recipe to the T, ….and they all flopped.

Finally I had to admit that my proud days were over. I had to take a felt pin and draw a line thru the recipe in my cook book, and write “Stop It!”.  But, just writing this memory, I feel myself   wanting  to give it just ‘one more try’.

Thankfully, wisdom whispers in my ear. 

“Spend your energy on something else, you’re NOT to going to win this battle.”

What battles do you need to give up?  Why is it so necessary for you to win?  

Would it have been so hard just to smile and nod with the irritating lady? 

I wonder.  Lord, thank you for trying to teach me which battles I need to concern myself with……..and give me some Grace to share.

Proverbs 16:8. Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.

As always, Marsha

P.S.  Speaking of real saints, I’d like to say a fond goodbye to a friend in Australia, Tom Oglivie, who unbeknownst to me, had been faithfully reading this blog every week for decades.  He suffered silently, and usually with a shy smile, as he dealt with the cancer that took over his body.  We got word that he went home to Glory last week, having hardly ever missed one of Tony’s Bible Studies.