A Slow Ego Death
The ego is a stubborn thing to kill. It hides in the most unexpected places, clinging to whatever it can. It’s easy to spot in the high-powered executive who boasts of being “self-made” or the athlete who thrives on personal glory. These traits—often labeled as confidence or drive—are not always seen as negatives. In fact, they’re often admired.
But my ego wasn’t as obvious. It didn’t manifest in wealth, status, or power. Instead, it disguised itself in righteousness. I worked with the homeless. I gave my time to ministry. I devoted myself to serving others. Surely, that made me a good person, right? Surely, that meant my heart was in the right place? Wrong.
As Jesus said to the rich young ruler, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone” (Mark 10:18). That verse always puzzled me. If Jesus is sinless, why would He reject the label of “good”? But the more I wrestled with my own sense of self-righteousness, the more I realized that Jesus was exposing something deeper. He was confronting the idea that goodness is something we can achieve, something we can claim for ourselves.
The ego loves to justify itself. It latches onto whatever feels honorable—your career, your children’s achievements, your education, your athleticism. It doesn’t always show up in arrogance or boastful pride. Sometimes, it hides behind false humility. Maybe you’re like me, and your ego has wrapped itself around seemingly righteous things: ministry, service, acts of kindness. Maybe, deep down, you’ve told yourself that your goodness has earned you a special place before God.
None of these things are bad. In fact, they can be great. The danger comes when we believe we are the source of our own success, when we soak in the praise and lose sight of the fact that every good thing is a gift from God. When people told me, “You’re doing such great work,” I absorbed it like fuel for my self-worth. I enjoyed hearing that I was making a difference, that I was needed. And slowly, without even realizing it, I started to believe that I was good. That I was righteous. That I had earned something.
For me, it took the unraveling of my world to expose the truth. My ego didn’t collapse because of outside forces—it crumbled when I finally looked in the mirror and saw the real problem. It was me. Not my circumstances, not the people around me, not even the temptations I had fallen into. Just me. My pride. My desperate need to be seen as good, as worthy, as valuable.
Maybe you’re in that place now. Maybe the things you’ve trusted in have been stripped away, leaving you feeling lost and vulnerable. Maybe the identity you built—the version of yourself you worked so hard to maintain—has come crashing down. And now, all you have left are the pieces.
It’s terrifying to lose everything you once clung to. But what feels like the worst place may actually be the place where God is building something new. Perhaps He is removing the idols you once held onto, the good deeds you hoped would earn His favor. Maybe He is stripping you of everything you thought defined you—not to punish you, but to set you free.
Because when you finally stand before Him with empty hands, when you have nothing left to prove, He will meet you there. And He will not ask you to perform, to achieve, or to be “good enough.” Instead, He will simply look at you with love and say, “I see you. I know you. And I love you.”
And that is enough.
