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Living Above the Fray

June 28, 2021


Good Monday morning, my friends! Let's make it an EPIC week.

This morning, I'm troubled by pride. Red pride. Blue pride. Material Pride. Suburban pride. Sexual pride. Religious pride. It seems like there's no shortage these days. This truth, then, should concern us all: Pride comes before the fall.

But the most plaguing of all is Alan pride.

A certified letter arrived from the management company of our subdivision HOA. I had promiscuously violated codes and was in danger of life in prison if the matter was not taken care of. I had criminally allowed a vine to grow on the corner of my house. Like a butterfly's wing flutter in South India, the balance of nature was hanging on my rogue vine.

For several dramatic days, I said, "No!" I joined Dee Snyder and sang out my window, "We're not gonna take it…" I've been infringed upon with masks, lockdowns, social distance, limited capacities, closed eateries, rationed toilet paper – and now the corner of my house.

When do you take a botanical stand, and when do you realize your stubbornness is just pride – as old as Adam and Eve themselves?

My attitude and snarky conversations with the wife could not elevate up from the attitude and snarky ways of what I assumed was our HOA's management company. Who were they to tell me about my landscaping savvy? Sherry's fire also burned hotter because of my choice of pouring out gas over water.

Sounds like pride, doesn't it? That kind of stuff comes before a fall.

And on this morning, I want to stick my head up above the fray and breathe healthier air. I prefer to be EPIC, but pride can often drag me back down into the weeds… or, in this case, a vine.

My answer on this Monday is something an ancient guy named Peter wrote. "But you," he said. His prod is that I should live differently than others. Why? Because I have been, "… chosen by God to be holy and to tell others of the night and day difference He has made in my life."

I can elevate up when I let HIM do that in me. It's humbling, but it's the tried and true answer to the inevitable fall attached to any kind of pride.

BTW... last night I cut down the vine.

Blessings, y'all!


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