When your faith is beginning to sag
Don’t try to prop it up with a humble brag.[1]

There was a man who loved going to church prayer meetings, not just to pray, but to let everyone know how deeply spiritual he was. One evening, during the group prayer time, he stood up and began:
“Lord, I just want to thank you that I’m not like other people… I mean, I could’ve been rich and famous with all the talent You gave me, but I chose humility, Lord. I turned down multiple job offers, six figures, Lord!, to serve You in this small church.” He continued: “And Lord, I know people see me as a role model. I’ve been told that many times, but I don’t let it go to my head. I just humbly walk in Your favor.”

A few “Amens” trickled out, but most of the room sat in awkward silence. Finally, one older lady leaned over and whispered to the person next to her: “Bless his heart... he’s working so hard at being humble, he forgot to actually be humble.”

If there was anyone who could brag about their faith, surely Saint Paul would be a top candidate, wouldn’t he? Just look at the New Testament, how many of those letters bear his name? How many churches are named after him? There are countless reasons why, if anyone had the “credentials” to brag, it would be Paul. And yet, we find something very different in his words. In his short letter to Philemon, a man he clearly knew well, we see the real character of Paul. A humble, seasoned faith that doesn’t boast but exhorts. Paul doesn’t use pressure, guilt, nor power. He appeals. That’s the gift of exhortation.

The late Charles Stanley, the faithful Baptist preacher of nearly 50 years at First Baptist in Atlanta, and founder of In Touch Ministries, talked often about the spiritual gift of exhortation. Not to be confused with the sin of extortion! Exhortation is the ability to influence others for good, using wisdom and humility. Stanley believed Paul had this gift, he could appeal to a person’s faith, their reason, and their better nature. Some of you here today, I know, have that same gift. You don’t come across as threatening or arrogant. You know how to encourage others toward Christ, toward reconciliation, toward doing what’s right, without ever making them feel small. That’s exhortation.

And Paul shows it in full in his letter to Philemon.[2] Now let’s talk about the background: Philemon was a man Paul knew, likely through trade. Paul was a tentmaker, and tentmakers in the ancient world were sort of like modern car dealers. (Maybe Philemon had a "dealership", who knows?) What we do know is that Philemon had a slave named Onesimus, who ran away. Where did Onesimus end up? With Paul, who at that time was under house arrest in Rome. Now picture this: Paul is imprisoned for preaching Jesus as King, dangerous words in the Roman Empire. While there, this runaway slave, Onesimus, becomes not just useful to him, but beloved. He helps Paul, supports him, runs errands, gets groceries, encourages him, maybe even helps him write. Paul is deeply grateful for Onesimus, and he sends him back to Philemon with a letter. A letter not of condemnation, but of appeal. Paul doesn’t say, “You’re a Christian now, release him or else.” Instead, he says, in essence, “I know how this looks. I know how it may feel, but I want you to see him as I do. He’s more than a servant, he’s a brother in Christ.” That’s the wisdom and gentleness of Paul. He acknowledges the broken system of slavery in the Roman world, and then subverts it completely. He invites Philemon to see Onesimus through the eyes of faith. Then, Paul says something remarkable: “I, too, am a slave of Christ.” That’s not a humble brag. That’s faith rightly positioned.

Now, let’s move to the Gospel. Jesus gives his disciples a hard teaching, one of the hardest. He says if you want to follow Him, you must:

• Hate your mother and father (a way of saying: be willing to put Me above every earthly relationship)
• Take up your cross
• Count the cost
• Give up all your possessions

That’s heavy.

Imagine hearing that before the resurrection, before the hope, before the victory. Jesus knew his disciples would be challenged. Their own families would say, “Are you crazy? Following that man? He’s going to be crucified!” Then, what about after the crucifixion? Only one disciple stayed near the cross. The rest ran. Hid. Doubted. They hadn’t yet calculated the cost.

Jesus gives them, and us, a hard truth: “Discipleship isn’t about bragging rights. It’s about sacrifice. About endurance. About putting Me first, above everything.” Jesus doesn’t say all this to crush their spirit. He’s not boasting about how strong He is. He could have. He is God. He could’ve said, “I’ve counted the cost, I’m going to crush Satan and build an unshakable tower in heaven.” Instead, He turns it to them. “Count the cost. Decide if you’re ready. Because I know what’s ahead of you, and I know what’s ahead for those who follow Me,” and He knows what’s ahead for us, too. He knows the challenges you're facing. The ones that wear on your faith, your health, your family, your finances, your future. And when your faith starts to sag, it’s tempting to puff ourselves up a bit. To say, “Look at what I’ve done! Look how faithful I’ve been!” But that’s not for Christ. That’s for us. When we do that, we become like the man in the prayer meeting, working so hard to be humble, we forget to be humble.

Instead, let us position our faith where it belongs, not in our accomplishments, but in Christ. Jesus didn’t come roaring in as a lion. He came gently, like a lamb. The most humble, unassuming creature. Today, as you reflect on your walk with Christ, consider the cost. Consider the humility it requires. Consider the cross you are called to carry and when your faith begins to sag, don’t reach for the humble brag.
Reach for the cross.

[1] The Rev. Jon Roberts
[2] Philemon 1-21
[3] Luke 14:25-33