I have always admired humble people.
Perhaps some of that came naturally to me, and some of it was learned along the way.
Growing up, I saw different expressions of humility in my parents. My father has always been a very humble and simple person. He is not one to seek attention or feel the need to have the newest or most expensive things.
My mother taught me another lesson. She taught me that working hard should not mean that you never enjoy the fruit of your labor. There is nothing wrong with treating yourself occasionally, enjoying a good meal, or doing something nice for yourself after working hard.
I think I took something from both of them.
From my father, I learned simplicity.
From my mother, I learned that enjoying something you worked for does not automatically make you wasteful.
As I grew older, became a wife and mother, and became more intentional about my Christian life, I decided that humility would be an important part of who I was.
People have called me humble, and I appreciate that.
But I have also realized that some of my humility was intentional.
I made decisions to live within my means. I wanted to be responsible with money. I wanted to set an example for my children. I did not want them to grow up believing that they needed the newest or most expensive thing simply because someone else had it.
But somewhere along the way, I had to ask myself a difficult question:
Can humility become so extreme that it starts working against you?
I learned that lesson through something as ordinary as a car.
I held on to an old car for a long time because I loved what it represented.
It reminded me of my early beginnings. It had been there during important seasons of my life. It was familiar. I knew its sounds, its quirks, and its history.
There was something humble about driving that car.
But there was also a cost to holding on.
The repairs kept coming.
Sometimes the car would not start. Sometimes I had to find another way to get to work. Sometimes it inconvenienced me and my children. Sometimes I spent money fixing one thing only to discover that something else needed attention.
At some point, I had to stop looking only at the monthly payment and start looking at the whole picture.
What was this car actually costing me?
That question changed everything.
Sometimes we call something “saving money” simply because the number we see in front of us is smaller.
But smaller does not always mean cheaper.
Sometimes you have to calculate the repairs, the inconvenience, the time, the stress, the interruptions, and the unexpected expenses.
Then you may discover that what looked inexpensive was actually costing you more.
I had to be honest with myself.
It was time for something new.
And that decision taught me something about my own journey of becoming.
Changing something does not automatically mean you are becoming prideful.
A new car does not make you less humble.
A new outfit does not make you less humble.
A new phone does not make you less humble.
Taking yourself on a holiday trip to a safe place with your family does not make you less humble.
Buying yourself a nice new gadget for your kitchen to improve quality, increase efficiency, or even increase the quantity of what you can produce does not make you less humble.
Taking yourself somewhere nice does not make you less humble.
There is a difference between pride and appreciation.
There is a difference between showing off and allowing yourself to enjoy something you have worked hard for.
There is a difference between living beyond your means and recognizing when holding on to something old is actually costing you more.
I am learning that humility should not require me to neglect myself.
I can be grateful for where I came from and still welcome where I am going.
I can appreciate the old car and still buy a new one.
I can remember the woman I used to be without refusing to become the woman I am becoming.
And perhaps that is the lesson I am carrying into this season of my life:
You do not have to remain uncomfortable just to prove that you are humble.
There are times when we need to let go.
Let go of the old car.
Let go of the old wardrobe.
Let go of the old habits.
Let go of the idea that wanting something new automatically means you are ungrateful for what you had.
Sometimes a new beginning is exactly what you need.
A new car can give you something to look forward to.
A new outfit can make you feel refreshed.
A new phone can make life a little easier.
A simple treat after a long month can remind you that your work has meaning.
A family trip can create memories that you will carry for years.
A new kitchen tool can help you work more efficiently and produce more.
None of these things should become the measure of your worth.
But neither should deprivation become the measure of your humility.
Be responsible.
Do the math.
Live within your means.
Think about tomorrow.
But do not forget to live today.
We get one life.
There is nothing wrong with taking care of yourself, enjoying what you have earned, and allowing yourself to experience something new.
Humility is good.
But the humility that constantly hurts you, limits you, or prevents you from moving forward may be worth reconsidering.
Sometimes the most responsible thing you can do is let go of what is costing you more than you realize.
And sometimes, a little newness is simply a new beginning, a new hope, and another reminder that you are still becoming.
Author’s Footnote
“Behold, I am doing a new thing.”
Isaiah 43:19
