How to Deflate Your Pride: Five Lies That Keep You From Being Your Best

We can be incredibly artful about disguising our pride–me included. I’d rather you see diligence and dependability, and not dig deep enough to trace them back to pride. I would prefer to convince you that I’m always capable and composed, so you don’t question why I reach for this consistency. I want you to see me as selfless and sweet-natured–never stubborn or snappy or overly sensitive–and assume pride never drives me to curate your impression of me.

But the truth is, pride can slide into our best of intentions, subvert our peace, and sandwich itself between us and other people. It hides inside of lies that sound incredibly convincing:

I shouldn’t accept help.

I can’t let anyone down.

I must not miss anything.

I can do this best.

I should only show my best face.

And subtly, it steers us off course. Away from tender humility and needed community. Towards suffocating self-focus and out-of-reach expectations.

The result?

We are tired. Tense. Stretched thin. Hardly the best version of ourselves.

Truth is, the pride that masks as self-sacrifice and strength actually weakens our faith and our relationships. We say with our trust that we come first, and we stop seeing the people in front of us, stop welcoming God to see through us. The ripples we create with our pride don’t pull anyone in closer to the Christ we want to reflect.

So what if we deflate our pride, one lie at a time?

Lie 1: I shouldn’t accept help.

Under the guise of not being needy, we drag our feet when we actually do need help. What’s worse? Even if assistance is offered, we turn it down, as it’s the chivalrous thing to do. But it’s not piety that pushes us to press on alone. Not strength that convinces us to struggle solo.

Linked arms don’t make us weak, as pride would have us think.

Accepting help grows gratitude and humility, vulnerability and camaraderie. The sort of stuff that makes for interconnected, soul-fulfilling community. Ask a neighbor for an egg, to swap babysitting, or to help you carry something heavy, and you nudge open a door for a friendship to form.

Lie 2: I can’t let anyone down.

I admit this one has a tight grip on me. There’s about nothing I try harder to avoid than letting someone else down. Even when it becomes more about me than the other person.

On the surface, it sounds selfless. And indeed, honoring your word and going out of your way to make life more seamless for someone else can be good and noble and others-oriented. But watch for an undercurrent of pride that looks like saving face.

Motivation is key.

Pride never wants to look bad, but humility bends low to lift up Christ. 

Pride is inflexible, but grace softens self-expectations.

Pride pursues our own infallibility, but reverence acknowledges His.

Rather than resist opportunities to apologize, what if we let those moments spark conversations about where God is at work inside us? Our lived-out-faith can gently model for others a teachable spirit that welcomes God’s correction and redirection.

Lie 3: I must not miss anything.

This lie closely aligns with the previous one and is another regular struggle for perfectionists. Like the other lies, it subverts what might begin as a pure-hearted intention and turns the focus inward.

We don’t want to be embarrassed, so we focus unbalanced attention on tasks–and miss the people in front us of who would rather our attention than our stubborn perfection.

Our rigidity also leaves little space for others to come alongside us, offer their vision for our blindspots and their arm out of our ruts.

The strength of a family, neighborhood, community is in its differences. Pride will tell you it’s all on you, but humility relies on fellow humans—who are fallible, just like you. Pride denies you realistic expectations, and the relationships that form as you lean on others.

Lie 4: I can do this best.

This is the lie that keeps you moving when you are bone-tired, that volunteers you for too many opportunities, that deters you from delegating. Not only does it drain you, it keeps others from the opportunity to grow into roles that may put them exactly where God asks them to be. 

Our dogged determination to control outcomes means we begrudgingly adopt a pace where others can learn alongside us. And this is where discipleship opportunities often appear.

Just because you can finish it faster or more thoroughly doesn’t mean you should. The better version of you isn’t the one stealing the show, but the one sowing into others.

Lie 5: I should only show my best face.

This subtle lie traces back to my teen years, when almost no one saw me without makeup on and my hair dry. Even when I had to wake up early at a youth retreat and wash my hair in the church bathroom sink. As a young mom, I’d be late to a morning playdate before I’d leave the house makeup-free. 

This lie can self-inflate, as lies often do. And the barricades go up. Not only do we want our appearance to be curated, we expect our houses should show their best faces too. We clean with the frenzy of Sonic right before guests arrive because we can’t bear the thought of anyone seeing our house the way it appears ninety-seven percent of the time. Anyone else ever get caught with the vacuum still running? 

This lie insists we open our door only to expected, prepared-for guests. It attacks our authenticity. Keeps us guarded and apart from the community we crave.

When we deflate pride, we ease up on ourselves. We laugh carefree and walk our kids to school with half our make-up on. We keep our front doors “easy on [their] hinges,” as Shannon Martin says. 

Without the lie, we have more room for relationships–the deep kind of friendships where our faith rubs off on each other.

A Prayer to Deflate Your Pride

If you have believed any of these lies, I want to leave you with a prayer to borrow:

Lord, help me to recognize where my own pride is disguised as noble intentions. I confess I’ve believed the lie that ____________(fill in the blank)__________. As I give it over to You, Jesus, I picture myself pricking a balloon. Help me to lean into humility and community and stop feeding my pride. In Your name, Lord, I pray. Amen.

Just a friend over here in your corner,

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