The “Great Sin” of Pride

By Nicholle Winger

Why do we put down our kids?

Is that a rough way to start this post? Perhaps you’re sitting there wondering where this is going.

Maybe you’ve never let words slip out that you wished you could take back. But I doubt it. This weekend, I overheard criticism toward a child several times, by a mom, a grandma, a dad. It really annoyed me. I noticed the child looked sad when told he was eating too much junk food. Another time, he played along and made fun of himself by grabbing his belly. The offending parties weren’t trying to be mean. No, I think they were attempting to be instructive. In their hearts, they thought they were teaching. I know they love this child. They don’t want him to overeat. They don’t want him to be made fun of at school. They want him to be healthy, active, and happy. But does the child know that? I remember feeling like that growing up. My mom would say something that hurt my feelings, usually related to how much I was eating and the way my body looked. It probably sounded harmless and helpful to her ears,

“If you stand up straighter, your tummy wouldn’t stick out so much.”

“Your skin would look so much nicer if you’d wear more makeup.”

“You know bagels have a lot of carbs. Maybe you should choose fruit.”

Did I think my mom loved me? Sure, I guess. I also knew I wasn’t good enough.

This is along the same lines of what I heard said to a little boy last weekend. It made me mad. It made me recall what my mom had said to me and, consequently, feel sorry for myself for a minute. But then I started to wonder, “Do I do this too? Does it bother me so much because I do it in my life?”

I realized this all relates back to the immense problem of pride. In his book Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis claims pride as the “the great sin” and goes on to describe it as, “…no fault which we are more unconscious of in ourselves. And the more we have it ourselves, the more we dislike it in others.” No. I would never hurt my kids with words. Would I? It made me think.

Sometimes when people compliment my kids, I feel the need to qualify it with something my child does bad. The exchange might go something like this,

“Wow, Sally reads well. What a smart little girl.”

I could say, “Thank you.”

Instead, I say, “Yes, she does like to read. She’s also extremely dramatic. We deal with a lot of tears in our house.”

(Insert a sigh here that conveys I’m such a tired, hard-working mom.)

What does this say about me? Surely my response has something to do with my issues and not my daughter’s. What did that exchange sound like to my daughter’s ears? How many times have I said it? Am I damaging her? I don’t mean to. I do want her to toughen up. I do want her to be a strong teenager one day and then a tough woman. I think I’m instructing/teaching, but really am I labeling/wounding?

I think back to that boy from last weekend. Shouldn’t we be asking why he’s eating so much? Maybe there is a reason. Maybe he’s hungry. Maybe he’s sad. If we look closer, we might find that this little boy is going through some tough stuff at home. Is he over eating because it comforts him? I don’t know. I’m not a psychologist. But why don’t we ask these questions instead of jumping in and pointing our well-meaning fingers? Why do I roll my eyes and call my daughter dramatic instead of asking her what is causing her to cry and overreact? Maybe it’s me. Or maybe she’s just having a rough day. It’s worth a shot. At least she would feel heard and know that I love her regardless. If I don’t stop to listen now, will she talk to me when she gets older?

The tendency to criticize our children without listening or asking can also be tied back to pride. Lewis goes on later and writes, “As long as you are proud, you cannot know God. A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.”

As a mom, a big chunk of my day is spent instructing, teaching, directing, and disciplining. If I’m looking down on my children to do these things (admittedly, they are shorter than me for now), I better be sure to check in with God first. I bet His way is better than mine.