The depth of my own pride is seemingly infinite. Every time I think it’s under wraps, I find some new variety of this cancerous sin hiding out in the darker corners of my heart. And not unlike cancer, what I think is full recovery from pride is oftentimes only remission. Given the right conditions—perhaps a bit of success, a dash of praise, a flattering “friend,” or a lack of accountability—the cancer returns. It keeps showing up in one form or another.
