There’s a country song where the singer says he’s not as good as he once was, but that he can still be good once. The older we get, the more we identify with the singer’s conclusion. The problem with pride seems to lessen.

For me, it happened when I turned forty. Church league softball was in full swing, and I had refrained from actually playing the entire season. My husband made me promise I wouldn’t get out there and be stupid (like that’s actually a thing, or something). This particular night, our team needed one more girl, and my fifteen-year-old self took control of my forty-year-old brain.

We often forget that our bodies aren’t as young as they once were, and we can’t do the things we once did. But for some reason, we push through anyway, convinced we are as fast, agile, and flexible as we once were. If someone tells us to slow down, be careful, or think through that decision, we sluff it off and let the pride of what used to be take center stage.

And that’s exactly what happened that night. Looking over my shoulder, I tried to make it to third base, convinced I could get there. And I probably would have—if I were still my fifteen-year-old self. But instead, my center of gravity shifted, my rate of speed increased, my feet flew out from under me to the back, and I face-planted forehead-first into the dirt where the shortstop typically stands.

Do you know how to tell when you’re too old to be doing stuff like that? No one laughs. Everyone gasps and sucks the air out of the night sky. Utter silence happens until you stand up. And no one tags you out. They just let you have the free base. Yep. I was too old to be doing that kind of thing. But pride and the need to show off my skills took over.

I’d like to say nothing was bruised but my ego. Instead, I earned a huge, discolored knot on my forehead and a concussion. Pride led to my fall—literally. And pride also led Samson to his demise.

Then she let him fall asleep on her lap and called a man to shave off the seven braids on his head. In this way, she made him helpless, and his strength left him.

~Judges 16:19 CSB

Samson’s strength came from his hair. His mother took the oath of the Nazarite vow for him, and as long as his hair was never cut, his strength remained. He was known throughout the land as unbeatable. No rope could hold him. No man could defeat him. And Samson was proud of that fact and arrogantly flaunted his strength.

But that sneaky lady, Delilah, began wooing Samson. She had ulterior motives and devious friends. After many failed attempts, Delilah finally convinced Samson to reveal the truth about his strength. She conspired against him and had his hair shaved off while he slept.

When we read the rest of the story, we see that God humbled Samson. In the end, as his hair grew back, he asked God for the strength to defeat his enemy once more. In his final victory, we don’t see him flaunting. Instead, he understood where his strength came from.

God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.

~James 4:6 NIV

Pride can get us into some mighty tense situations. It ruins friendships, creates wedges in relationships, and causes authentic people to steer clear of the prideful impersonator. When we become puffed up, others stop wanting to associate with us to stroke our ego. Pride divides. And pride leads to our fall.

Consider any areas of pride you may have. Then, give them to God.

God, please show me the areas where I’m puffed up. Help me be willing to humble myself in every way.

Genre: Non-fiction

Copyright 2025: The Problem with Pride: Christy Bass Adams: All Rights Reserved