I recently shared a message about Spiritual Blind Spots. What we discovered is pride is almost always a key contributor to people having Spiritual Blind Spots. When we choose to humble ourselves, walk in humility, and reject prideful attitudes we are safeguarding ourselves from the danger and the destructive consequences of Spiritual Blind Spots.
I was pondering the words of “When I survey the Wondrous Cross”, one of the greatest Hymns ever written. I can hardly read the verses of this hymn without wanting to bow my head, and my heart, before the Cross of our Lord Jesus. Isaac Watts wrote these words, “When I survey the wondrous Cross on which the Prince of Glory died”, and I find myself gazing and fixed on this cross Isaac Watts speaks about. It is this cross that deeply moves my heart with wonder and amazement that such great love and grace was there on that day, on that hill, on that cross. It is this Cross that shines like a piercing light and exposes all my pride and selfishness. Isaac Watts continues with these words, “my richest gain I count as loss and pour contempt on all my pride.” How can we not consider all our achievements and our richest gains as loss when we stand before this cross? All the things that we esteem as great in this life are so very small in the light of this wondrous cross. It is this cross that makes us resent and despise every prideful action, and every prideful attitude no matter how small. The only real cure for the pride of our hearts is this cross, this wondrous cross on which our Prince of Glory died. May we gaze upon it and allow it’s penetrating and convicting light to defeat pride in our lives, and may we have the image of this cross ever before us all the days that we live. Isaac Watts continues with these words, and may these be the words from each of our hearts:
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
His dying crimson, like a robe, Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe, And all the globe is dead to me.
Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.
From my heart to yours,