On Yielded Egos & Giant Hearts
Ego.
It’s been the topic of much discussion and research over the centuries and has a wide range of interpretations and definitions. So, to keep things simple, we’ll be exploring it as an element of human behavior and the impact is has on our emotional maturity.
With this in mind, ego can be thought of as a broad-sweeping term used to describe a collection of behaviors and emotional responses we assert in order to protect the self.
If you’re like me, your first inclination is to associate ego with the immoveable, bull-headed aggressor who enjoys lording their superiority over others. This is common enough, but ego can also be veiled in the most unlikely temperaments. We don’t tend to consider the quiet cynics, the easily offended, or the relentless self-critics as self-obsessed but they certainly can be.
Ego isn’t just reserved for the overtly prideful. It isn’t a fixture of a particular personality type or behavioral style. Self-importance can parade as arrogance or it can stew as insecurity. It can be unashamedly forward or it can be cleverly concealed. It can be high on self-esteem or it can be in agonizing withdrawals of self-worth.
Ego affects all of us impartially. And no matter how it manifests, it is a master at twisting reality and making us think our shortcomings are actually our strengths.
Here are just a few examples. Maybe some of these sound as painfully familiar to you as they do to me:
- Instead of recognizing we lack empathy, we convince ourselves being devoid of emotion makes us strong.
- Instead of admitting we’re weak communicators, we think it’s the responsibility of others to seek understanding.
- Instead of recognizing our obsession with control, we call it “perfectionism” and idolize it.
- Instead of taking it upon ourselves to shape the life we want, we wait for the world to bring us the opportunities we think we deserve.
This is how ego flies under the radar. It’s quick to abdicate personal responsibility, and then ever-so subtly, we slip into victimhood.
I’m reminded of David in the Bible when he volunteered to take on Goliath. It was customary in battles during that time for one man to be selected from each side to duel in order to avoid the bloodshed of open battle. This was a practice known as “single combat” and it was traditionally a close-quarters, face-to-face encounter. 1
So, Goliath armored up and readied himself with weapons appropriate for a head-to-head fight. King Saul, being familiar with this custom, offered David his armor. So David suited up, strapped on Saul’s sword, and headed for battle.
No sooner than he left Saul’s presence was he back with a gnawing feeling — this gear was completely foreign to him. He promptly removed the armor and returned the sword, explaining to Saul that he hadn’t “tested these”. Instead, he picked up his staff, packed his sling, and filled his shepherd’s pouch with stones.
The only reasonable inference we can make from this is that these alternate weapons of choice had been tested by David.
People like to credit the killing of Goliath to the miraculous intervention of God, and I suppose it wouldn’t be wrong to consider how incredibly favored David was by the Lord. However, the glaring oversight in every retelling of this story is the very strong likelihood that David was actually an experienced slinger.
Slingers fell into one of three categories of ancient fighters called projectile warriors. Projectile warriors were highly valued for the devastating damage they could cause from a distance to the enemy’s front lines. 2
Samuel describes slingers in the book of Judges as those who could “sling a stone at a hair and not miss”. 3
Slinging was a precise skill. David’s ability to whip around his sling and release a stone at such a precise trajectory and velocity so as to hit the only spot on his opponent unobstructed by body armor, weaponry, or head gear was not a luck of the draw. This was the result of years of practice and achieved precision.
What would the outcome of that battle have been like if David had given into tradition and met Goliath face-to-face, bearing the weight of an unfamiliar armor and attempting to wield a weapon he had no prior experience with?
Isn’t it just like ego to try and convince us to suit for an unwinnable head-to-head battle? It clothes us in notions and presumptions that haven’t been tested. It pressures us into armoring up for direct conflict because the rest of the world shows up this way. But the truth is, we don’t have to. We can decide at any moment to shed the armor, put down the sword, and change the rules of engagement.
If I were to ask you what the antithesis of ego was, what would you say?
Humility, perhaps?
Humility would be a good answer, but it’s not a complete answer. It’s a great start to quieting our pride, but the true antidote to ego is servanthood. Humility speaks to our intentions but servanthood is the hands and feet of humility in action.
You can tell when you’re engaged with someone someone who is a true servant and isn’t driven by ego. They don’t have a constant compulsion to prove or defend themselves. They can handle being accused, being weak, and being wrong — all without the temptation to justify.
They hold confidence in one hand and a healthy amount of self-doubt in the other — always open to being questioned, always listening to new perspective, always ready to adapt.
When they have the answer, they decide. When someone else has the answer, they defer. When they know the way, they lead. When someone else knows a better way, they follow.
There’s a level of self-denial they’re willing to engage with in order to serve the people around them.
When you read David’s story just before he accepts Goliath’s challenge, it uncovers the lengths he would go to to serve the people in his life. It says he would go back and forth between tending his dad’s sheep and serving in the court of King Saul. And he would prepare food and deliver it regularly to his three older brothers and the commander of their army while they were at war.
And here’s something you probably didn’t realize. David wasn’t even a solider himself in this war, he just happened to be delivering food at the time the Philistines called out to Israel and challenged them to a duel. There is a bonus lesson here that serving will always put you in proximity to opportunities you would otherwise miss.
David didn’t go down in history for his impressive superiority. He went down in history for his unprecedented servanthood. The posture of his heart is what won him the respect of the people and ultimately one of the most trusted and righteous kingships in the history of mankind.
As far as I’m concerned, the world can keep their hardened hearts and power-hungry egos, because we know the truth.
True power, true influence is earned when we surrender to servanthood with a yielded ego and a giant heart.
Works Cited
- Gladwell, Malcolm. David and Goliath (p. 6). Little, Brown and Company. Kindle Edition.
- Gladwell, Malcolm. David and Goliath (p. 9). Little, Brown and Company. Kindle Edition.
