We've considered our subject theologically, biblically, and practically. Let's close not with our heads but our hearts. In England I had the opportunity to stand in a number of elevated pulpits, as is the style on the Continent. I was reminded of the young preacher just out of seminary, climbing the steps to the pulpit for his first Sunday in his first church.

Head held high, notes and Bible in hand, he was proud and dignified. But he tripped on the last step, Bible and notes flying. He tried to shuffle them back into order, but he was too embarrassed to think. He tried to preach his sermon, but stammered and stuttered. Finally he quit, shoved his disheveled notes into his Bible, and descended the steps, head down.

An elderly woman on the first pew said to him, "Young man, if you'd gone up the steps the way you came down, you'd have gone down the way you went up."

C. S. Lewis, as usual, says it better than I can:

"Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call 'humble' nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him. If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.

"If anyone would like to acquire humility, I can, I think, tell him the first step. The first step is to realize that one is proud. And a biggish step, too. At least, nothing whatever can be done before it. If you think you are not conceited, it means you are very conceited indeed" (Mere Christianity 114).