Leggo My Ego

 Let Go of My Ego

You may remember a television commercial from yesteryear that began with an waffle popping up on a toaster and two persons at the table grabbing it simultaneously, each of whom glared at the other and said, “Leggo my Eggo!” That inane phrase pops up into my mind very often when I’m praying, because whenever I feel wounded by something that someone has said or done I recognize that part of the woundedness is my ego, that might be bruised or inflated. So, I find myself praying that God will enable me to “leggo my eggo!” or, more accurately, to “Let go of my ego.” 

Letting go of the ego seems like such a proper goal for which to pray, doesn’t it? We commonly think of the ego as something inordinate, such as when we describe someone as ‘egotistical.’ It is akin to what the Scriptures sometimes call “the flesh,” a kind of control center that directs our actions in a selfish manner, as opposed to in a loving manner. Jesus’ call for disciples to “take up your cross and follow me” seems to imply that it is only by dying to our ego that we can live into Christ. And, of course, there is great wisdom and truth to hearing the call to discipleship that way, especially for those of us who have tasted power and privilege in our world, with the presumptions that we are right and our opinions are important. 

However, the Scriptures offer a much more complex approach to the ego than simply a negative one. The word “ego,” for example, is simply a transliteration of the Greek pronoun ἐγὼ, which means “I.” When philosophers use the word “ego,” they tend to use it interchangeably with the word “self.” That is to say, we all have an ego and that is not a criticism. Our ego is the center of our reflective being, from which we perceive the world and act accordingly. Perhaps that is why Jesus describes “the greatest command” with a trilogy of loving God, and loving our neighbor, as we love ourselves. Self-love – perhaps we should say a proper self-love – is a necessary part of being in healthy loving relationships. 

When we listen to the complexity of the Scriptures, the ego appears as more than just a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ thing. Certainly there are insufferable narcissists, so caught up in their reputation and so convinced of their own perspective that they run roughshod over everyone else. That is a form of ‘egoism’ in its worst respect, exactly the kind of ‘self’ that needs to be crucified if one is to be able to form loving relationships and to serve God with humility. At the other extreme are those who have been shamed, browbeaten, silenced, ignored, or otherwise marginalized in life, to where they seem to have lost their ability to stand up for themselves, to speak out when abused, or to expect the kind of dignity and respect on which genuinely loving relationships are built. Both the loss of the ego and an overly inflated ego can result in diminishing life and love. 

Perhaps the Scriptures present a complexity of approaches to tending one’s ego because each of us is different. Some of us seem more disposed toward self-confidence that trends toward conceit, while others seem more disposed toward humility that trends toward self-loathing. Self-confidence and humility can be life-enhancing virtues, while conceit and self-loathing can be life-diminishing vices. I suspect that few of us are simply one extreme or the other, but are constantly in flux. Tension, change, fear, or even success can push us toward extremes, rather than maintaining a healthy balance of self-love and other-love. 

So, how should we pray when we find ourselves feeling wounded? I find my first wave of prayer is precisely a prayer for wisdom to know the difference between inordinate and appropriate self-love. Am I angry because my pride has been wounded, or were someone’s words and actions really inappropriate? Do I love someone well by absorbing their words and actions with quiet grace, or is this an occasion that requires a firm, resolute response? When I feel challenged or wronged, my first impulses are rarely the best response. In those cases, prayer becomes a powerful moment of being re-centered, re-organized, re-ordered in my thoughts and my feelings by intentionally focusing on the trilogy of loving God, neighbor, and self. When it seems that the wound is largely because my pride was inflated, I can move toward an apology, toward change, with the confidence that I am a humbled, but still beloved, child of God. And when it seems that the wound is because someone has not properly respected my gifts, my feelings, my boundaries, or my dignity, I can confront them firmly and lovingly, out of a proper sense of self-love. Sometimes prayer is “Let go of my ego” and sometimes it is “I am God’s work of art.” 

Analytically, it sounds simple. Realistically, this is a long journey of consistent prayer, listening, learning, and loving. May your journeys be filled with grace, patience, and prayer.

Mark of St. Mark