Deflated (part 2)

That's a word that I learned more about today.  And I think I like it.


If you haven't already read Deflated (part 1), then you should read that first.  Seriously, things ought to be in order: books by author, movies alphabetized, blog posts in the order that they're posted....


You might have noticed that in that post, I stated that I dislike the word "deflated."  And it's true, I do dislike it when it applies to a car's tire.  This post isn't a continuation of my verbose tale.


This post is about ME.  Well...  Okay, actually it's not just about me; it may well apply to you, too.


The word "deflated" can be defined as to "cause someone to suddenly lose confidence or feel less important."  That's the kind of deflated I'm talking about here.  And I'll use a synonym for it, too:  Humbled.

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Confession time.  I am going to talk about my flat tire story again.  Gotcha!

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When I called my dad, I myself felt deflated.  I was humbled by the fact that only a few weeks ago, my sister came home and announced that she had hit a curb just outside our neighborhood and got a flat tire.  And while I genuinely felt sorry for her - it was an accident, after all - something inside me gloated.  I was proud of the fact that it was Chaela who had messed up, and not me; my good-driver-status was intact, and perhaps heightened by comparison.


I hate that that response, regardless how minuscule, was in me.  I ought to have had nothing to do with a thought like that.


Perhaps that's part of why I was so put down by a silly little flat tire of my own; I had been brought down by my own terms.  More than that, I was reminded of that ugliness of character I had displayed within myself.


But that's not the only humbling I experienced this evening.


I know that I am not particularly strong.  I know there is absolutely no shame in asking for help.  But there is still something that tugs at my pride when I do have to ask for help, and especially when I cannot do much anything while being helped.  That thing that "tugs at my pride" says, "Yep.  You're weak.  How cute.  You need someone bigger and stronger and better to do that for ya.  Why did you try in the first place?  You should have seen yourself -- you looked pretty foolish."


The thing is, I DO NEED HELP.  And I do need someone bigger than me, who's stronger than I am, and who is better than I am at whatever.  This resentful attitude is wrong and quite frankly, is sinful.

I know there are times when I insist to God that I can do it on my own, and feel that if I have to ask for His help I'm just displaying my shameful weakness.  But guess what I was reminded of today?


Weakness is not shameful... but my attitude in weakness can be shameful.


With God's help (I know I need it!) and by His grace, I will choose to have a joyful attitude that will please Him next time I'm deflated.  I pray you will do the same.