Humble Pie

Consuming Humility

By A G in Central Asia

Humility. It’s one of those words we know is a good characteristic and one we should cultivate in our character. But sometimes the definition seems a bit fuzzy.

Thanks Wikipedia: “the quality of being modest, reverential, even politely submissive, and never being arrogant, contemptuous, rude”. I thought I was a relatively humble character. Then I had kids.

Well that opens a can of worms, doesn’t it? Having to deal with people who do not work within our social norms of politeness, or are downright inconsiderate and at times defiantly disobedient really does challenge one’s humility! And for many of us, this is a normal ‘refining fire’. So now, just in case I thought having kids was sufficient to refine my character, ka-ping! We’re in another country and taking it to a whole new level.

Imagine if you please, going to the dairy to buy a packet of matches to light the barbie tonight. You have a quick look around, but you can’t see them; you have to ask. Oh, and you can’t speak to the shopkeeper… he doesn’t know your language. So you have several options: you can make a bit of a wally of yourself with charades, you can speak louder in case that somehow manages to make what you’re saying more intelligible, you could jump the counter to have a quick look yourself (at the risk of having the cops called!) or you could go home and forget about a BBQ.

It’s quite easy for us to feel like they’re to blame for us not being able to get what we want. But what if the shoe was on the other foot, so to speak? What if all of a sudden you are the one who can’t speak their language? No shred of righteous indignation now.

Now, quite often these days my demeanour is one of humility… that’s right, modest, politely submissive, although often the fine line between humility and good-old humiliation is overstepped.

I muddle up the words or the pronunciation (e.g. oldu = it was, and öldü = died), or have times where I don’t understand and just say yes because there are only so many times you can say ‘What?’ without humiliation (“Would you like to take a running jump off my balcony?” “Oh, yes please, that would be lovely”!). Sometimes it’s relatively easy since I’m blissfully unaware of my blunders.

Other times it is remarkably obvious that I have no idea what’s going on and I want to disappear in a hole, except that account needs setting up, or the kid needs to be enrolled in school for next year. You can run and hide but then you won’t achieve what you need to! Some days it’s easier to wear the humility mantle than others. Some days you just boil over with frustration and feelings of ineptitude.

Some folk are very kind and polite (whilst probably having a good laugh later with their mates), while others have that look on their face like: you are an imbecilic specimen from another world (and they’re probably half right).

Any rate, hopefully through my new-found levels of humility I can model the qualities of my faith, opening doors for such a time when I can talk without taking one foot out of my mouth to fit in the other! Perhaps it’s just good discipline to say less and be more.

The G family are now using vocational training to make disciples in Central Asia.

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