Today I committed murder.  Mass murder – Nearly genocide, really.  I’m talking about gnats.  Little black carcasses strewn over the fatal terrain of my sweat-covered face, neck, and torso.  Seriously, it was gross.  I went for a long run in the smothering July humidity and came back with more blood on my hands than I care to think about.

It all started with a book called Born To Run that my friend Jeff recommended to me.  It tells of the legendary Tarahumara natives of northern Mexico.  If the stories are true (and they seem to be), this tribe of super-runners regularly go on 50 to 100 mile jogs without blinking an eye.  Oh, and it’s all in a deadly environment of hungry wildlife and steep cliffs that make the worst of the Rockies look like a stroll through Central Park.  For American runners raised to believe that the sport will inevitably debilitate us, the Tarahumara’s immunity to injury through (near) barefoot running is subversive and hopeful.

Anyways, in an attempt to find my inner Tarahumara runner, I strapped on some barefoot simulation toe-shoes and set out to conquer the worst that Nashville has to offer:  Love Hill.  Alright, it’s really just this little ascent to a slightly higher elevation than the rest of the city, but if you run straight up it at a sprint…it can be pretty grueling.  For a suburban kid in Tennessee, this favorite make-out spot is as rough as it gets.

When I reached the “summit,” in fact, I experienced a sensation of victory and self-worth that I haven’t felt since the days of high school cross-country finish lines.  It was raw and invigorating – the truest sense of the word “glory.”

Yet, I had reached the top.  I was humbled…but I was also proud.  Is that ok?  Is it ok that I wasn’t pointing my finger to the heavens like an NFL player after a touchdown?  The church has spent a lot of time stressing the faults of excessive pride, but is there merit in moderate pride, as well?

I think about the Jewish people historically – my general sense is that a history of persecution has ultimately produced a certain degree of cultural pride.  In other words, in order to reclaim the basic human dignities that have been stolen through various forms of oppression, the Jewish people have adopted a shared outlook that stresses self-confidence and pride.  It’s not hubris, but rather the necessary amount of self-respect for survival.

So, maybe God wants us to experience that feeling of victory.  A victory colored by our relationship to the Divine and constrained by the knowledge of our own humble place in the grand scheme of things – but victory nonetheless.

How does a church body reflect this pride?  Do we stop playing the “persecuted Christian” card when faced with an antagonistic culture and start approaching it with a self-confident love?  I have heard the language of victimization too often with respect to how Christians fit into society at-large, but I’m not sold on it.  I worry it might just be a cheap way to give our more aggressive tactics credibility:  For instance, it’s ok that I’m yelling at you on a street corner, because as a Christian I am a victim of cultural marginalization.  I’m not denying that devoted Christianity is anything but mainstream in American culture, I’m just saying there might be a better attitude.

I am wondering if a certain degree of healthy pride can actually allow us to greet others with loving humility.  If we can find the same sense of unabashed glory within our faith that I found atop Love Hill, perhaps our overall attitude will change.

Does that make any sense at all?