"God opposes the proud but shows favour to the humble" (James 4:6). Jesus also warned, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged" (Matthew 7:1). Pride and judgement are close cousins: both put us at the centre and others beneath us.
These seven stories about pride, humility and judging others, retold in our own words, include two jokes, a business lesson, a historical myth, a desert father and two cautionary tales. Each ends with a takeaway for sermons or reflection.
Stories in this collection:
- The Vice President of Peas
- Points in His Favour: Rockefeller's List
- The Complaining Monk
- Vikings Never Wore Horns
- The Trapper's Dog
- The Leaking Jug: A Desert Father on Judging
- "Not Much of a Dog"
The Vice President of Peas
A traditional joke.
A man was promoted to vice president of the company he worked for. The promotion went straight to his head. For weeks he told anyone who would listen that he was now a vice president.
Finally his wife, thoroughly embarrassed, told him it was not such a big deal. These days, she said, everyone is a vice president. The supermarket down the road even has a vice president of peas.
Somewhat deflated, the man rang the supermarket to see if it was true. He asked to speak to the vice president of peas. The voice on the other end replied, "Fresh or frozen?"
Takeaway: Titles and status are rarely as impressive as we think. "Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought" (Romans 12:3).
Source: Traditional joke; author unknown.
Points in His Favour: Rockefeller's List
As the story is usually told.
In the late nineteenth century, Standard Oil, led by John D. Rockefeller, was one of the biggest companies in the world. On one occasion an executive made a bad decision that cost the firm about two million dollars, an enormous sum at the time.
Edward Bedford, a partner in the company, had an appointment with Rockefeller soon afterwards. When he walked into the office, he found his boss bent over a sheet of paper, busily writing. Eventually Rockefeller looked up and asked whether Bedford had heard about the loss. He had been thinking it over, he said, and before he called the man in to discuss it, he had been making some notes.
Bedford glanced at the page. At the top Rockefeller had written: "Points in favour of" the man in question. Underneath was a long list of the executive's good qualities, including three occasions when his decisions had earned the company far more than his recent mistake had lost.
Bedford said later that he never forgot that lesson. In the years that followed, whenever he was tempted to tear into someone, he made himself first sit down and write as long a list of their good points as he could. By the time he had finished, he said, he usually saw the matter in its true proportion and kept his temper. He believed the habit had saved him from one of the costliest mistakes a leader can make: losing control of his anger.
Takeaway: Before we judge someone's failure, we should remember their faithfulness. Love "keeps no record of wrongs" (1 Corinthians 13:5), but it remembers what is good.
Source: Reported in Bits & Pieces, 15 September 1994.
The Complaining Monk
A traditional joke.
A man joined a monastery where the monks were allowed to speak only two words a year, and only to the abbot. At the end of each year they were given an audience and said their two words. Naturally, the abbot hoped for something profound, such as "Jesus loves" or another eternal truth.
At the end of his first year, the new monk said, "Bed hard." At the end of his second year he said, "Food bad." At the end of his third year his two words were, "I quit."
"I'm not surprised," said the abbot. "You've done nothing but complain since you got here."
Takeaway: If we only had two words to say each year, what would they be? Our habitual words reveal our hearts (Luke 6:45).
Source: Traditional joke; author unknown.
Vikings Never Wore Horns
When most of us picture Vikings, we imagine fierce warriors in helmets with horns, or the cartoon Viking Hägar the Horrible. But there is no evidence that Viking warriors ever wore horned helmets into battle. Horns would have been impractical, easy for an enemy's weapon to catch.
The Norse raiders and traders who spread across Europe from the late eighth century to the eleventh were feared by the Christian peoples they attacked, and some monks and chroniclers described them as instruments of God's judgement or agents of evil.
The horned helmet itself, however, owes most to much later imagination: nineteenth-century Romantic artists and, in particular, the costumes designed for Richard Wagner's operas in the 1870s. An image created by others stuck so firmly that it is still how many people see the Vikings today.
Takeaway: Once a picture of someone becomes fixed in our minds, it is hard to shift, even if it is false. Before we accept what others say about a person or group, we should ask whether it is really true.
Source: Reported in Talkback Trash and Treasure; historical studies of Viking helmets.
The Trapper's Dog
A traditional tale, similar to the old Welsh legend of Gelert.
A widowed trapper lived deep in the Alaskan wilderness with his two-year-old son. One winter their food ran out and the trapper had to go hunting. The weather was so fierce that he decided it would be safer to leave the boy behind in the cabin, guarded by his faithful dog. While he was out, the storm grew worse, and he was forced to shelter overnight among the trees.
When he returned the next morning, he found the cabin door open and the furniture overturned. There had obviously been a violent struggle. There was no sign of his son. His dog lay in a corner, looking up at him, its mouth covered in blood.
The trapper's heart froze. He was sure he knew what had happened: the starving dog had turned on the child. In a blind rage he seized his axe and killed the dog.
Then he began searching frantically for any trace of his son. Suddenly he heard a familiar cry coming from beneath the overturned bed. He heaved it aside, and there was the boy, safe and unhurt, without a scratch on him.
Weeping with relief, the trapper gathered his son in his arms. Then he turned and saw, lying in another corner of the cabin, the body of a dead wolf. At last he understood why his faithful dog had been covered in blood. It had fought off the wolf and saved the child's life.
Takeaway: We often think we know the truth about someone when our judgement is badly wrong. Jesus told us to "stop judging by mere appearances" (John 7:24). Hasty judgements can do damage that cannot be undone.
Source: Traditional tale; author unknown.
The Leaking Jug: A Desert Father on Judging
Among the Sayings of the Desert Fathers, the collected wisdom of early Christian monks in Egypt, there is a story about Abba Moses, a former robber who became a monk renowned for his humility. (Some modern retellings call him Father Joseph.)
One of the brothers in the community had committed a fault, and a council was called to decide his punishment. When the monks gathered, Abba Moses was not among them. They sent someone to fetch him, saying that everyone was waiting.
So the old man got up and came. He brought with him a leaking jug filled with water, or in some versions an old basket full of sand, which trickled out behind him as he walked.
The other monks came out to meet him and asked what this meant. He replied that his own sins were running out behind him, and he could not see them, yet he had come that day to judge the faults of someone else. When they heard this, the monks said nothing more to the brother and forgave him.
Takeaway: "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?" (Matthew 7:3). Awareness of our own sins makes us gentler with others.
Source: The Sayings of the Desert Fathers (Apophthegmata Patrum), Abba Moses.
"Not Much of a Dog"
A traditional joke.
An optimistic farmer greeted each day with a cheerful "Good morning, God!" His neighbour, a sour woman, greeted each day with something closer to "Good God, it's morning." Each found the other trying. Where he saw opportunity, she saw problems. Where he was satisfied, she was discontented.
One bright morning he called out, asking whether she had seen the glorious sunrise. Yes, she replied; it would probably get so hot the crops would scorch. During an afternoon shower he remarked how wonderful it was that the corn was getting a drink. If it didn't stop soon, she replied, they would wish they had flood insurance.
Determined to fill her with a little wonder, the farmer bought the most remarkable dog he could find, an animal so highly trained and gifted that it could do the impossible. He invited his neighbour to watch.
He threw a stick far out into the lake. The dog bounded after it, ran across the surface of the water, picked up the stick and trotted back across the lake to his master. Beaming, the farmer asked what she thought of that.
She frowned. "Not much of a dog," she said. "Can't even swim, can he?"
Takeaway: A critical spirit can find fault with a miracle. When we are determined to judge, we miss the wonder that is right in front of us.
Source: Traditional joke; author unknown.
Final thoughts
A vice president of peas, a list of good points, a monk with two words, a horned helmet, a faithful dog, a leaking jug and a dog that walked on water. Each one shows how pride and judgement distort what we see, and how humility helps us see clearly.
Whose good points could you write down this week before you judge them?
More stories you may like:
These stories are retold in our own words for teaching and reflection. Sources are credited under each story.