My Pride

My pride gets in the way of so much happiness As I am sitting at the table playing cards with a group of people, whose company I normally enjoy, I have a twisted look on my face as I realize I am losing by nothing other than shear dumb luck. Why can't I realize that it is not personal just because I keep getting bad cards? Why can't I laugh and enjoy the time with my friends?

The answer is: My stupid pride.

What good is pride? Does it actually have some purpose in our lives? When a father says "Son, I'm proud of you," is he saying "I'm glad you make me look good," or "I'm happy for you,"? In everyday life pride appears to be nothing but selfishness. It is something that rots the soul.

I don't see a good use for pride EXCEPT for moments of survival. In times of absolute stress, pride can keep you from letting go. It can keep you holding on to your values and integrity. I am not just referring to times of war, but also the kind that happens everyday when you feel verbally attacked or taken advantage of. When someone says something racial or abusive, pride can spark the flame of defense and offense to save your reputation or even feelings.

I have been to SERE school. For those two of you who actually read my blog AND have seen the terrible movie GI Jane, you know what SERE is. But let me tell you....it is NOTHING like the movie, but it at least you have an idea. Basically it's training on how to survive if you ever become a POW. Without saying too much, I can tell you when you're cold, tired, hungry, and bruised, the only thing keeping you sane is your pride. Pride in your fellow sailors. Pride in your religious beliefs. Pride in your country. Pride in your integrity. I remember as I was sitting there in the bottomless pit of self-pity, another "POW" started humming the National Anthem. That was the most beautiful pride filled moment I have ever experienced, as tears of pride and love streamed down my mud covered face. Even though I know what I went through was no where near what actual POWs have experienced, it really was the worst experience of my life and my pride and love for my country is what got me through it.

So pride does have it's place, I guess.

But how can something so useful, and arguably required for survival, be so detrimental in stupid insignificant moments? All it does is rob us of joy. How can in one moment it bring tears of love and in another it make me cranky and stubborn? What is the purpose? Where is the line to be drawn? Why can't I let it go over a stupid game of cards and why must I hold onto it with all of my strength when I need it to survive?

Does God want us to have pride, or to put it all down?