Humility is not putting yourself down. It’s seeing yourself as you really are. It’s not thinking, “How small I am.” It’s not thinking of yourself at all.

What appears to some as humility may be inferiority. Think of the wallflower at the dance who pulls into her shell, makes eye contact with no one, and sits there moping, “No one likes me. No one wants to dance with me.” The truth is, she’s the most egotistical person in the hall. The belle of the ball, the young lady who is charming everyone by her dazzling smile and sunny personality, is the very opposite: she’s not preoccupied with herself at all. She’s thinking of others, and they are responding to her attention.

For some reason the ministry seems to attract more than its share of not-very-humble persons. I suppose it has to do with the fact that they are “performing.” People are sitting in pews and looking up to them, and it goes to their heads. Poor things. If they only knew.

I’ve been in pastors offices where the walls were literally covered with plaques and framed certificates. The office was a shrine to the minister. I’ve seen ministers receive doctorates, then change every sign in the building to reflect their new status, and make sure the secretary never misses an opportunity to add his new title to his name.

Read a pastor’s resume when you get a chance. Or an evangelist–they tend to be even worse. Notice the ones that are quick to cover themselves in the glory of large pastorates or successful revivals or books published or other awards. It would be funny if it weren’t so sad.

These are our spiritual leaders, the ones sent to teach character and integrity to the rest of us.

There are so many reasons to be humble and so many temptations not to.

Judging from his epistles, the Apostle Paul had to deal with the problem of arrogance and pride in the various churches where he served. In his letter to the church at Corinth, he took on those who were “arrogant in behalf of one against the other.” Think of the way high school or colleges promote their football teams and put down their opponents; that’s what was happening in Corinth.

Paul asks these boastful believers three questions:

“Who regards you as superior? What do you have that you did not receive? And if you received it, why do you boast as if you had not received it?” (I Corinthians 4:7)

Great questions. Let’s spend a moment on each.

1) “Who regards you as superior?” That, in case you did not recognize it, is a putdown. “Exactly who decided you were better than the others?” he wants to know. What beauty contest did they win?

It reminds us of the time the Israelis were opposing Moses and his brother Aaron in the kind of ceaseless grumbling that wears down all leaders in time. As the griping intensified, Moses could not take it any more. You’re complaining about God, he said, not me. Then he added, “Who is Aaron that you grumble against him?” (Numbers 16:11) Zing. Poor Aaron.

You’ve heard people say, “Who died and made you God?” That’s the contemporary version of Paul’s question: “Who thinks you are superior?” He’s amazed anyone would.

2) “What do you have that you did not receive?” That is the human situation. We’ve all received everything we have; we created nothing from scratch. None of us are self-made.

Pride is not only foolish, it’s illogical. Why be boastful and arrogant about something you had nothing to do with? One might as well get puffed up over the sunset or a lovely flower or the neighbor’s children as over our talents and abilities; it’s all from God and nothing we did.

3) “And if you received it, why do you boast as if you had not received it?” The answer is: because we like to play these little games with ourselves. “Let’s pretend I did this all by myself.”

And so, a singer with extraordinary ability becomes so egotistical no one wants to work with her a second time. A pastor of a mega-church becomes so cocksure of his anointed leadership he decides he is above the laws that govern ordinary people and Satan scores a great victory by his downfall.

Nothing is more attractive–or more surprising–in a truly successful individual than humility. That’s probably because it’s so rare.

In our denomination, Frank Pollard was a successful pastor by any standards. He grew up poor and shy in a tiny town in Texas. When he announced that God had called him to preach, his friends asked, “How can you preach if you can’t even look people in the eye?” And yet, in time, TIME magazine named him one of the ten greatest preachers in America. For decades he led the great First Baptist Church of Jackson, Mississippi, and influenced generations of upcoming preachers.

A professor of preaching at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary once sent a student to interview Dr. Pollard. The seminarian asked, “After you’re gone, how do you want to be remembered?” Pollard answered, “I don’t want to be remembered. I’m only the messenger.”

The professor told me that when the student told that to the seminary class, a hush went across the room. It was so unexpected from one whom they considered great.

I have five suggestions for anyone in the preaching/pastoral profession who is tempted to think of themselves as great. You might call these “assists for your humility.”

1. Go to the next town, walk into a mall, and buy something with a credit card. Do not hand your driver’s license to the clerk, but simply tell her your name. Watch her reaction. You’ll quickly find out just how far your fame has traveled.

2. Attend your high school reunion. These are the people who knew you as the shy, introverted kid with braces–or needing the braces you never got. They know your secrets and are about as impressed by your achievements as they are the kid who stayed in that county seat town and ran the Western Auto. They will deflate your ego in a New York minute. If you will relax, you will enjoy every moment of it, and feel like a million bucks when you drive away. They have done you a great favor.

3. Ask your wife to name your greatest strengths. Notice how she pauses a long time, much too long for your comfort. Finally, she comes up with one and then a second. They are not the ones you would have chosen, and you wonder how anyone who knows you as well as she does could miss the most outstanding traits that have made you the success you are. Gag.

If your wife tells you she is awed by your greatness, she’d probably lie about other things too.

4. Volunteer to serve meals at your local homeless shelter. Do not wear a name tag unless it carries only your first name. It will do you good to serve these people off the streets and to have them call you by your first name, if they call you anything at all.

5. Take the “doctor” or “reverend” off everything you own. Get your fancy title off your parking space, your letterhead, and your church bulletin. Be yourself. Let people be pleasantly surprised to find that a truly nice person like you could have impressive degrees, instead of your hitting them in the face with it every time you meet.

Take all those degrees and awards and plaques off the office wall and retire them to a drawer somewhere. Eventually, most of them you will want to consign to the dumpster.

Get your eyes off yourself and onto the Lord Jesus Christ. Look around at the people nearest you and search for ways to make them feel better about themselves and the work they do. Work at making them successful. Do it as anonymously as possible.

“He who would be great among you,” Jesus said to the cluster of disciples who were all ears and taking this down, “let him be your servant.” (Mark 10:43)

Not what they wanted to hear. They were looking for some magical formula from the Lord on how to achieve lasting and obvious greatness in this life. To them, that meant the same thing it means in our culture: everyone knowing your name, everyone moving out of your lane, everyone handing you acclaim.

Didn’t mean for that to rhyme, but I’ll leave it that way. Laura will probably set it to music.

Keep your eyes on Jesus and you will be grateful people don’t walk up and spit in your face. Now, that’s humility!