The Arrogance of Man

Many years ago, I was invited to a Bible social by a friend. His mother had passed, and I went to show support. As I sat quietly, I overheard some of her Christian friends sharing what they did to “stay closer to Christ.” One said she didn’t eat rice. Another said she avoided TV. Others only spent time with fellow churchgoers.

I tried to ignore the conversation, but a small voice in me spoke up, the same voice I still can’t silence today: “Did you know Jesus wasn’t a Christian?”

The older lady looked at me as if I had cursed her entire family. She shouted, “Blasphemous! Sinner!” I calmly explained, “Jesus was not a Christian. Jesus was a Jew. Christians are the followers of Christ.”

Surprisingly, my friend, the one who had invited me, liked how I explained it. He had been wanting to start a Bible social and asked me to attend when it began. For the next nine months, every time I saw him, he reminded me.

The Reluctant Guest

When the day finally came, I had no plans of going. I thought church was boring, and the Bible was boring. I would rather be at the park with my friends. But my friend persuaded me, even catching me at the park and urging me to come.

I reluctantly agreed“just for 30 minutes.”

To my surprise, it wasn’t what I expected. There were games, trivia, food, things I actually enjoyed. But what really struck me was the speaker, Howard. He was articulate, open-minded, and engaging. Thirty minutes stretched into the entire evening. I left happy that I came.

That became the pattern. For the next year, on the last Saturday of every month, I went to the Bible social.

The Transformation

But something unexpected happened. Each time I left the social and passed my friends at the park, I no longer stopped to talk. I felt… different. Superior. I told myself, “I am being saved. I know more about the Bible. I know more about God.”

I looked at my friends, people I had known my whole life, people I had laughed and worked hard with, and I judged them. To me, their choice to hang out, drink, and relax seemed beneath what I was doing.

I wanted to change them. I wanted them to join me, to see things my way. I thought my path was the right path.

That was arrogance.

The Realization

With time, I realized my mistake. My friends didn’t need saving. They were good people who simply chose to spend their weekends differently. I had confused learning about God with becoming better than others.

The truth is this: you cannot force people to change. If anything, you inspire change by how you live, not by how you lecture.

A Wider Reflection

I see the same arrogance now in others, people I love and respect. The condescending tone. The “holier than thou” attitude. The quick claim of forgiveness not because it’s genuine, but because “it’s the Christian thing to do.”

What they don’t realize is how alienating that sounds. Forgiveness isn’t powerful if it’s given only out of obligation. True forgiveness comes from the heart.

And this arrogance stretches beyond religion. It is the arrogance of humanity itself , the belief that we are the only worthy beings, the only intelligent life in existence. It is the arrogance of saying “my God is the right God, my truth is the only truth.”

That arrogance has fueled wars, broken friendships, and hardened hearts.

Closing

The arrogance of man is believing our way is the only way.

I was once guilty of it. I see it in others. And I know it will always exist. But I’ve learned this: true change does not come from forcing, shaming, or claiming superiority.

It comes quietly, through humility, through example, and through the way we live.

By Willy London on September 12, 2025.

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Exported from Medium on April 10, 2026.