Humility With More

Success Feels Good — Unless It Costs You Who You Are

When I was growing up, sports were my life. Soccer. Basketball. Anything competitive.

Then one day my dad asked if I wanted to try baseball.

I had heard the stories—how good he was in high school and college. And what kid doesn’t want to be like their dad?

So I signed up.

And what followed was one of the most painful seasons of my life.

I started at 12. Most of the other guys had been playing since they were little. Many were older. At that age, a year makes a big difference.

I was terrible.

They put me in right field—the place you can do the least damage. And I prayed the ball wouldn’t come my way.

But there’s no hiding when it’s your turn to bat.

I went an entire season without a single hit. In one game I struck out five times. What hurt even more than striking out was watching my teammates’ reactions when I walked to the plate.

After that game, I cried.

Probably the only time I ever cried playing sports.

When the season ended, my dad asked, “Want to try again next year?”

I said, “Probably not.”

But he offered something better.

“What if we practice all summer… and then you decide?”

And time with Dad was always worth it.

So we practiced.

Every day after work.

Tennis balls. A side yard. A fence as a backstop. A homemade scoring system in our cul-de-sac that may or may not have resulted in tennis balls flying into the neighbor’s yard. (I still owe the Nelsons an apology.)

By spring, I had improved dramatically.

The next season was completely different.

I started getting hits. Almost every time up.

But there was still one thing I wanted.

A home run.

And in the last game of the season, I got it.

I saw the pitch I wanted. Swung. And crushed it.

I watched it sail over the center fielder’s head… over the fence… into the street.

Home run.

I can still feel the adrenaline of rounding the bases. My teammates pouring out of the dugout to meet me at home plate.

And then something interesting happened.

In that league, it was common for players to slide into home plate on a home run. A little flair. A little extra.

As I rounded third, my teammates were pointing—telling me to slide.

But something inside me hesitated.

It didn’t feel right.

So I didn’t.

I ran through. Stepped on home plate.

That was it.

Later that day my dad asked, “Why didn’t you slide?”

I told him the truth.

“It just didn’t feel right.”

He smiled and said he was proud of me.

Not for the home run.

But for that decision.

Then he gave a name to what I had felt.

Humility.

What Humility Really Is

There’s a line that has stayed with me my entire life:

“Humility is not thinking less of yourself… it’s thinking of yourself less.”

That matters.

Because humility is not insecurity.

It’s not shrinking yourself.

It’s not pretending you didn’t hit the home run.

It’s simply not needing the extra slide to prove it.

Arrogance often looks like confidence.

But arrogance is usually insecurity in disguise.

It needs to be seen.
It needs to be validated.
It needs attention to survive.

True confidence doesn’t.

True confidence is grounded.

And humility is what keeps it that way.

The Subtle Danger of “More”

One of the most dangerous things about pride is how subtle it is.

It rarely shows up screaming.

It shows up in comparison.

When someone has more than us and we resent it.

Or when we have more than someone else and we want them to notice.

In the Book of Jacob, there is a warning that still feels incredibly relevant:

“Some of you have obtained more abundantly than that of your brethren—and persecute your brethren because ye suppose that ye are better than they.”

That word persecute feels extreme.

Until you realize how small the acts can be.

A friend once told me about getting an “A” on a test and intentionally leaving it out on his desk so others would see it.

Not to celebrate quietly.

But to be seen.

To feel bigger.

At someone else’s expense.

That’s how subtle pride can be.

And today, social media gives us unlimited opportunities to display our “more.”

More success.
More vacations.
More relationships.
More recognition.
More followers.
More money.
More talent.
More everything.

The question isn’t whether sharing is wrong.

The question is:

Why am I sharing it?

And does it feel right?

That feeling is often your spiritual compass.

What Is “More” For?

The purpose of having “more” is not elevation.

It’s stewardship.

Jacob teaches:

“Be free with your substance, that they may be rich like unto you.”

Your “more” was never meant to separate you.

It was meant to serve someone.

And substance isn’t just money.

It can be:

• Time

• Encouragement

• Skills

• Wisdom

• Resources

• Influence

• Experience

Even attention.

The highest use of your “more” is lifting someone else.

And the most powerful humility is often invisible.

Jesus performed miracles.

And many times, He followed it with:

“See that thou tell no man.”

He didn’t need applause.

He knew who He was.

Anchoring Quote

“Humility is not thinking less of yourself… it’s thinking of yourself less.”

That’s what keeps success clean.

That’s what keeps confidence rooted.

That’s what protects your heart when you win.

Reflection

What is one “more” you have?

It might be obvious.

It might be subtle.

Have you ever used it to be seen… instead of to serve?

And if you’re honest, did it feel right?

Humility doesn’t erase your gifts.

It refines how you use them.

Today’s Daily Challenge

Identify one “more” you’ve been blessed with.

Then use it quietly today to lift someone else.

• Encourage someone.

• Share something.

• Include someone.

• Give something.

• Serve someone.

No spotlight required.

Just step on home plate.

Grateful for you being here today.

Grateful for the small inner compass that keeps us grounded.

If this devotional resonated with you, you can find more here:

Daily Devotionals:
joshdowns.com/daily-devotionals

Come Follow Me for Teens:
joshdowns.com/come-follow-me-for-teens

Until next time — keep driving forward. 🚗