On Pride

Sometimes English lets us down. Take the word pride. Sometimes pride means a good thing, a healthy sense of self-respect or pleasure in an accomplishment. Sometimes pride is a cardinal sin, an excessively high opinion of oneself, conceit, or arrogance. Recently, a friend said to me, “You must be so proud.” I had just given her a pre-release copy of my novel, Saving Jane Doe, which has its e-book formats release today. I’ve thought a lot about her comment. I feel excited, grateful, humbled, and blessed. So many people have helped to bring this about. I am grateful to them. So many others write just as well or better and haven’t had the good fortune to find a publisher. By these truths I am humbled and blessed.

But do I feel proud? I confess the answer is yes. I take great pleasure in this accomplishment. I love it when people say they loved reading Saving Jane Doe. I love it when they say to me they couldn’t put it down. I love it when they say they want to read my next book. So when does this pride become a deadly sin? When I forget how many people helped and inspired me, when I forget how much better others might have done it, and when I forget how very much God has blessed me and how utterly helpless I am without Him, it is then that I sin. Lord, help me remember.

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