If you are like me, you might have struggled with the meaning of the sweatshirts that looked like a math equation. You are supposed to see that "He" (Jesus) is greater that "i" (small letter, meaning me, myself, and I). The priority is Jesus over my pride.
I’ve been reading through Matthew’s Gospel, specifically the challenging call of discipleship. The Sermon on the Mount is particularly striking. Jesus repeatedly uses the phrase, “You have heard it said, but I say...” to raise the bar of our hearts and discipleship. Anger can be as destructive as murder, and lust as damaging as adultery. In ch. 10, the challenge grows even more personal. Jesus calls His disciples to prioritize Him above everything—relationships, possessions, and even our own security. The core of this teaching remains the same: God is infinitely greater than I am. The priority is Jesus over my pride.
All the promises are here: Greater is He that is in me than he who is in the world (1 John 4) and “Nothing can separate us from the love of God.” (Romans 8). In this passage, Jesus says we have the authority to do amazing things–miracles–when we trust Him (Matthew 10). We are rewarded for perseverance in the face of opposition from people who would oppose the gospel. Our heads and the hairs on them are valued by God. Eternal life is secure for those who follow Jesus faithfully.
For me–and maybe for some of you–the problem isn’t always outside persecution, but inside pride. In my inmost thoughts and sometimes reflected in my outer actions, I know best. I apply human logic to daily decisions and sometimes miss the incredible, yet mysterious plan that God has for a given situation. Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry is famous for saying "We have met the enemy, and they are ours," and Cartoonist Walt Kelly is even more famous for his adaptation in his Pogo comic strip: “We have met the enemy and he is us."
My pride blocks God’s promises. I am sitting in Louisiana this morning, iced into the cabin I am staying in and unable to preach my first Sunday as an interim pastor. My first day in the office was Friday and my first decision as a pastor was to cancel Sunday morning church. It was the right decision–conditions this morning would be dangerous to drive. But “I” wanted to preach. I wanted to minister. I wanted to serve. Yes, preaching, ministry, and service are all good things. But they are overshadowed by my “I” problem.
The true meaning of Jesus’ hard words to love Him more than our parents, our spouse, or our children (Matthew 10:34-39) is that He want our undivided hearts and our unqualified trust. Our pride gets in the way of His promises. Pride is self-love. I love me more than I love Thee. To take up my cross is to leave behind my ingenuity, my cleverness, my own wisdom, and my dignity in the eyes of the world.
Then I find His ingenuity, His cleverness, His wisdom, and a dignity that surpasses anything I could imagine and a peace that passes all comprehension. When the tires on my car do nothing but spin on the ice, it’s easy to admit my helplessness. When I assess a problem just long enough to envision a solution or when I listen just long enough to form an answer–my pride is causing God’s promises to spin like the tires on my Honda.
He must increase and I must decrease (John 3:30)
Choosing to live out the "He > i" equation isn't just about the crushing of our pride; it is about the security of His promises. In the same breath that Jesus calls us to take up our cross, He offers a profound trade in Matthew 11:28-30. He promises that when we finally set down the heavy burden of trying to be our own "God," we find true rest for our souls. The promise is this: When we lose our life for His sake, we actually find it. We trade our fragile, ego-driven striving for a peace that doesn't depend on our performance. Our pride may be loud, but His promise is steady—He is greater than our failures, greater than our past, and more than enough for our future.
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