You Choose the Armor You Wear: Humility is the Strongest Option, Consider the Armadillo
It’s hard to admit, but most of the time, my greatest struggles aren’t caused by the people around me or even by my circumstances.
They’re caused by me — or more precisely, by my pride.
In moments of conflict — a disagreement at work, a disrespectful comment at home, a misunderstood intention — I feel the magnetic pull to defend myself. To correct the narrative. To make sure I’m seen the right way, heard the right way, interpreted the right way.
In leadership, I want the credit when things go right — and a buffer when they don’t. It’s subtle: angling to be seen as insightful, indispensable, wise.
In parenting, it’s less polished. I bristle when my authority is questioned. A small act of defiance from one of my children — and suddenly I’m tempted to clamp down harder, not out of true discipline, but out of wounded pride. How dare you challenge me? The deeper instinct isn’t love for their soul — it’s a need to restore my sense of control.
Occasionally it may look like arrogance. Often, it masquerades as responsibility or strength.
But underneath it all? It’s the same ancient virus that infected the human heart at Eden.
Pride.
Pride: The Root Beneath the Surface
C.S. Lewis called pride “the complete anti-God state of mind” — because at its core, pride dethrones God and replaces Him with the self. Pride isn't just another sin on a list of vices; it's the taproot from which all other sins draw their life. Every rebellion, every betrayal, every injustice begins when someone believes they know better than the One who made them.
