Gentle and Humble

Learning to lay down what was never mine to carry

“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” — Matthew 11:29 (NIV)

I’m coming out of a drama-filled weekend with my family, and let me tell you, I love my family dearly, but sometimes we could give a reality TV show some serious competition!

As I sat down this Monday morning, still carrying some of the weight of everything that happened, I was reminded of a lesson the Lord began teaching me several years ago.

Back then, I was learning how to recognize when I had taken on more than I was meant to carry, especially in my home and the everyday responsibilities of life. One of the Scriptures that helped me most was Matthew 11:29.

Isn’t it interesting that when Jesus invites us to take His yoke upon ourselves, He describes Himself as gentle and humble in heart? And wow, those two words really hit home for me, because gentleness and humility are usually the first things to go when I’m carrying too much!

Over the years, I’ve learned to pay attention to that. When I become easily offended, defensive, impatient, or overwhelmed, I’ve learned to stop and ask myself whether I’ve picked up a burden God never intended for me to carry.

And this Monday morning, as I thought about the weekend, I recognized a familiar burden. One that has been particularly heavy for me: the responsibility of managing other people’s perceptions of me.

I’m a middle child, a people person, and someone who genuinely loves getting along with others. I like people, and I like being liked! I’m not ashamed to admit it. My husband, on the other hand, seems perfectly comfortable with whatever people think about him. Sometimes I wish I could borrow just a little of that ability. Preferably without having to borrow his entire personality!

But somewhere along the way, my desire to be liked became something much heavier. I began placing so much importance on how people perceived me that almost every disagreement felt like a judgment of my character. Without realizing it, I had become attached to certain titles: the good sister, the faithful friend, the loving wife, the sweet girl at church. And whenever something threatened those titles, I felt an overwhelming need to fix it.

If someone thought I was inconsiderate, I needed them to understand how considerate I actually was. If someone misunderstood my intentions, I wanted to explain every detail. A simple disagreement could turn into an imaginary courtroom in my mind, and let me tell you, I had prepared an excellent defense!

I grew up in a loving family, but also one where people could be very critical. Sometimes a single interaction could become a label. You were the sensitive one, the emotional one, or the Christian one. I remember being called the Christian one even as a child because I cared about the Bible. Over time, I became very aware of how quickly people’s observations could become their definition of who you were.

And I think I carried some of that fear into adulthood. I wasn’t simply dealing with what people actually said about me. Sometimes I was fighting against what I imagined they might think.

The problem was that all this effort to protect my reputation began affecting the very qualities I wanted to demonstrate. I would become defensive, replay conversations, and feel deeply offended. Or I would do the opposite: accommodate everyone, overlook things that bothered me, and keep saying yes until I reached my limit. Then suddenly, I wanted nothing to do with the very people I had worked so hard to please.

Sometimes I wasn’t losing my gentleness because the situation was unbearable. I was losing it because I was trying to control something that didn’t belong to me.

Romans 12:18 says, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”

Those words, as far as it depends on you, have brought so much freedom into my life. They remind me that I have a responsibility to love, forgive, apologize, and pursue peace, but I am not responsible for another person’s response. Humility doesn’t mean assuming everything is my fault, and gentleness doesn’t mean allowing everyone else’s expectations to govern my life.

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I believe in examining my heart, receiving correction, and having people in my life who can tell me when I’m wrong. I need those people! But there is a difference between being willing to learn from our mistakes and feeling responsible for making sure everyone has a good opinion of us.

So how am I learning to put this into practice? Here are four things that have been helping me.

1. Pay attention when I lose my gentleness or humility.

When I notice myself becoming defensive, unusually offended, or overwhelmed, I try to stop and bring those feelings before God. Instead of immediately focusing on what someone else did, I ask Him to show me what’s happening in my own heart. Am I responding to an actual problem, or am I afraid of what this situation might say about me? Sometimes there is something I need to repent of. Other times, I simply need to recognize that I’ve been carrying too much.

2. Identify what belongs to me.

When Monday morning came, I could have spent the entire day replaying conversations and worrying about what everyone thought. Instead, I sat down and asked myself, What part of this situation actually belongs to me? Was there something I said that needed an apology? Was there a conversation I needed to have? If so, I could take responsibility for it. But how others chose to respond, what they thought about the situation, or whether they agreed with me was not something I could control.

3. Reclaim my focus.

This has been one of my favorite lessons. Once I’ve identified my responsibilities, I have to return my attention to what God has actually entrusted to me. That Monday, I had two little girls waiting for their homeschool day, a home to care for, and a new month to welcome. I had an autumn school basket to prepare! Spending the entire morning rehashing the weekend wasn’t going to change what happened. But being present with my children could make a difference in the day God had given us. I don’t want yesterday’s problems to steal today’s blessings.

4. Choose to trust.

I’ve realized that much of my anxiety comes from not trusting enough. Sometimes I don’t trust that people who love me can see beyond one difficult moment. I forget that a disagreement doesn’t erase years of love and kindness. And sometimes I forget to trust God with the parts of my heart I haven’t recognized yet. If there’s something I need to correct, I can trust Him to continue teaching me. Philippians 1:6 reminds us that He will carry on the good work He began in us. I don’t have to figure everything out today.

And friend, maybe this is something you need to hear, too. You can be a loving person and still have difficult relationships. You can be humble and still disagree. You can be gentle and still say no. You can acknowledge your mistakes without making them your identity.

Jesus invites us to come to Him with our burdens, and 1 Peter 5:7 reminds us to cast our anxieties on Him because He cares for us.

So today, I want to encourage you to examine what you’ve been carrying. Take responsibility for what belongs to you, trust God with what belongs to Him, and allow others to be responsible for their own choices.

And please, don’t let a difficult weekend determine the kind of week you’re going to have. There is still so much goodness waiting for you in the ordinary moments of today.

Walk a little lighter, friend. Jesus is gentle and humble in heart, and He invites us to learn from Him.

Love you, friends!