Pride is not simply one of several vices that man has: Pride is what man is. There are many ways to express pride, but pride is a matter of the heart, the natural disposition of a heart yet unbroken by God. Even if we are able to restrain the most obvious outbreaks of this damning principle, we will take pride in our restraint and only add hypocrisy to the list of our vices.

Pride is a doubly destructive force for it hides itself from us. The very principle of pride may enable us to see it in others but blind us to its presence in us. Pride makes the Pharisee look down his nose and say, “I thank God I am not like yonder publican”. And with equal pride the publican may snarl his lip and say, “I may be quite a sinner, but at least I’m not like that self-righteous Pharisee – I know I am a sinner.” The pride of a free-willer is unmistakable; but there is no less pride in the man who thinks himself better because of his sovereign grace theology.

Is there a cure for pride? Yes, but we shall never be fully cured so long as we live in this flesh. However, pride can be held in check by a simple process. An illustration will help. I can play the piano – sort of. I play mostly by ear and can give simple imitations of some piano-playing styles that make some people think I am actually fairly good. In a room full of people who can hardly play piano, or cannot play it at all, it would be possible for me to take pride in my piano-playing. But all that is required to bring such pride crashing down is the arrival in the room of a real piano player. And he need not say a word; he need only sit at the piano and play.

Two thousand years ago, there were a great many self-proclaimed “piano-players” in Israel. Into this environment came the Lord Jesus Christ; and He began to play; and the beauty of His song and the artistry with which He performed it made all former music sound like the cacophony of a thousand monkeys banging on a thousand pianos.

Some of the monkeys got mad. They were humiliated by the beauty of his playing and their pride rose up to silence His music, so that they could yet mesmerize the audience with their own supposed talent.

But some of the monkeys were awed at what they heard. They were humbled at the beauty of His playing. They stopped their own playing, content to hear Him. Some wept; some danced; but all refused to call themselves piano players after they heard Him.

And the song was powerful. Though they had never heard it before, it sounded familiar to them. The music was so powerful it pressed itself into their minds as though it had been there all along. They abandoned all their own music, and tried to play His, plinking out their one-fingered arrangements of His song. None of them – not even the best of them – could play like He did. But their attempts were recognizable, and when they played, it stirred up the hearts of those who listened - so much so, that even though it was the monkeys that played, it was the Man they heard.

None of the monkeys took pride in their playing, but wondered that anyone would listen; and all of them confessed, “Who is sufficient to play this song!” But, on they played; plinking His song, trying to imitate His style.

They were humble monkeys, attempting what they knew they could not do, but compelled to try by the beauty of His playing.

That is how pride is cured.