Pride

Recently, I've been reading this book I borrowed from Michael Leong. 'twas something that he recommended when I asked about books on apologetics, 'cause I decided to take a more consolidated approach to tackle my skepticism as a Christian. The story behind the tome is interesting enough - it was compiled from a series 0f radio talks given C.S.Lewis (he of Narnia fame) to the British public during WW2. I imagine evangelism would have been immediately pressing for Christians then, given that the masses were being claimed, one by one, by the bombing of Britain. Of course, evangelism is as pressing as ever anytime. And interestingly, these BBC delivered talks were made to an atheist audience. I find it funny, how in Malay language essays we often lambast "the West" for pop culture, budaya kuning, budaya lepak and for budaya Kristian. Asia and Africa are where Christianity is thriving - the West was predominantly dead to all that I believe in decades ago.

But I digress.

There is a section in this book that really touched me at my core. A section on pride. C.S.Lewis was writing (talking) about how pride is one of the worst sins of all. Of how it is by nature a spiritual sin, one manifested not so much by the body as in the mind. And he writes about how we can sometimes use pride to defeat "lesser" sins and how the devil is content to let us wield it, knowing that the sin of pride is so much greater than the sins we vanquish with it.
Consider one staring at an uneven piece of land, some terrain marred with little holes and irregularities. And then one decides to shovel out the soil, so that the surface would then appear to be flat. And one can endeavour tirelessly, day by day, night by night; it'll never be the envisioned two-dimensional plane. But casting aside one's shovel, one looks arround to see a much bigger whole arround him than there always was in the first place. Blah, I direly need to work on my clarity.

But what if one adores irregular terrain? o.O

I am aware of my Christian upbringing and of all the lessons that come to my mind whenever I'm faced with choices. The little things I've been taught since young never fail to move my hand, at time more successfully, at times not. It would be rather pleasant to leave this understanding here. It would be convenient. It would probably make me feel so much better as a person. And it would probably make me feel so fake.

I wish my physical self could traverse the boundaries of time to go back in time, to walk the dusty roads to seek the Oracle of Delphi and to find enscribed on Temple of Apollo:

γνώθι σεαυτόν

It reads "Know Thyself". It is the reason I can tell you, without batting an eyelid, that I am a creature of a black heart and of vile desires. That I am filthy. So very filthy. And I can see it in everything in everyone around me. Perhaps that why when we humans speak of "good, it is always implicit that we speak relatively. It is rather telling that we have no absolute idea of "good". "Good" is always used with respect to a certain benchmark. Nevertheless, we all have an understanding of what "evil" is. I may not know whether a deed is meritorious enough to be called good, rather than mutually beneficial (because nearly everything that we do is that). Perhaps thats why I have this disillusioned air about me perpetually. Perhaps that why I recognize that behind every selfless lesson that guides my hand, there is a more sinister voice that whispers in my ear, "You'll do it because you are so much better than the people who don't." There is a certain pride, one of an insidious nature embedded within my psyche, that stains my every move. It is the undergarment for my rotting sould, on which I wear my robes of glory.

"I deserve better"

"I will not stoop to that"

I find it difficult to think of who I would be without all these. What manner of person would I become? Would I recognize myself in the mirror?

scratched and worn. hanging from my Bible

Oh, but if the keychain spoke true.