Uncredible Humility
We're Less Than We Think
We’re Less Than We Think
In 2008, I was living in Florida. I had given up a great job at a Frito-Lay manufacturing plant to chase my dream. Back then, that dream was to become a pastor, speaker, or theologian. I was enamored with those powerful religious speakers I’d seen at youth conferences who addressed hundreds, even thousands of people.
By that point, I was well on my way. I’d completed my Bachelor’s degree in Religious Education with an emphasis in Pastoral/Greek and gained some experience as an associate pastor at a small church in Binghamton, NY.
The next step, in my mind, was seminary. While working as an associate pastor and finishing my degree, I also worked the night shift at Frito-Lay.
My less-than-exceptional plan was to transfer from Frito-Lay in New York to a plant in Florida near the seminary I wanted to attend. The idea had the scaffolding of a good plan, but none of the critical supports to keep it upright.
Before leaving, I only laid minimal groundwork. I requested a transfer, and HR reassured me that once I arrived in Florida, all I’d have to do was apply and I’d get in. It felt a bit uncertain, but I thought I knew what I was doing. My wife and I had moved once before after getting married, and we’d managed just fine. I figured this would be no different.
A Lesson in Humility
Humility is the ability to recognize that you’re not as valuable or important as you might think. Up to that point in my life, I’d always found jobs easily and made decent money. Naively, I assumed moving to Florida would be no different.
But remember — this was 2008. Historically speaking, not a great year for the economy. And there I was, leaving two stable jobs to follow my dream. Oh, and did I mention this was also the year my son was born? Four years into marriage, one newborn, and I was quitting everything. Pretty stupid.
Humility would’ve meant realizing that Frito-Lay in Florida might not want me. A touch of humility might have led me to secure a job before moving. But my overconfidence in my limited success made me believe that if I’d done it once, I could do it again.
It’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.
Things Never Happen the Same Way Twice
There’s a line from Prince Caspian that stuck with me. Lucy asks Aslan why he didn’t come roaring in to save the day. Aslan replies,
“Things never happen the same way twice.”
That line hit me — both for the good and the bad moments in life. Pride makes us think, I’ve been here before.
When I ran my first marathon this September, that thought crept in around mile 13. I’d already run a half marathon on the same course a few months earlier and trained up to 22 miles just weeks before. I felt great — better than ever. I was fueling well and thought, I’ve done this before, I’ve got this.
Then my hamstring tightened up — something that had never happened in training. Concern swept over me, and that quote echoed in my mind: Things never happen the same way twice.
In Florida, I never did find a good job. I applied to Frito-Lay in Orlando, and when I showed up to take the initial test, we were told that over 500 people had applied for only four open positions. I didn’t get a call back. After bouncing between unsustainable jobs and racking up debt, we eventually moved back to my hometown to start over.
About a month after leaving Florida, I did get a call back from Frito-Lay in Orlando — but by then, it was too late.
It was during this period that I watched the 2008 film Prince Caspian and heard those iconic words spoken by Aslan reminding me:
“Things never happen the same way twice.”
What It Means to Be Uncredibly Humble
Uncredible humility is like normal humility, but grounded in reality. It’s recognizing that you’re not as great as you think — but also not as worthless as you sometimes feel.
You and I, we’re replaceable. But we still matter.
Some people take humility too far and slip into self-pity: It’s all worthless, I’m worthless. That’s not humility — that’s self-loathing.
Uncredible humility is the balance between overvaluing and undervaluing yourself. It’s a cautious optimism — realizing that maybe you’re not that great, but what you are isn’t that bad either.
Looking back, uncredible humility would’ve meant recognizing that I already had a bachelor’s degree, a great job at a Fortune 100 company, a wife, a newborn, and a second job in the field I’d studied. There was value in all of that. I didn’t need another degree or a grand new venture right then.
I overvalued myself and undervalued what I already had — and that imbalance led to some costly mistakes.
But those mistakes taught me something. Many of us chase dreams and fall short. We end up working jobs we don’t love, living in houses we don’t prefer, driving cars that aren’t impressive — because we chased something that didn’t work out.
And that’s okay.
That’s how we learn humility. Those experiences shape us. Without them, we wouldn’t be who we are.
And who we are — is pretty Uncredible.
Music for voice over by Jeremusic70 on Pixabay.