One of the facts of life is that those who think of themselves the most are the most miserable and those who think of themselves the least have the power of levity. Selfishness and grouchiness go together on one side of the ledger and selflessness and mirth go together on the other. Along these lines, Paul puts “lovers of selves” atop a list of vices in 2 Timothy, and that list sounds like a day in the life at Sodom and Gomorrah Elementary.

Pride is a nasty little monster, particularly when it comes in the wounded puppy position. It is easy enough to see pride when it puffs the chest. But it’s the mopey pride, the Black Hole Bessie pride that’s particularly sneaky. Bessie is that pouty cousin of yours who in childhood was surrounded by every possible enjoyment on vacation only to sulk, strategically positioned before watching eyes.

The central thing to keep in mind about Bessie is that she wants you to sulk with her. That’s why she has greased the landing all around her black hole with salty tears. She wants you to join her in her misery and you will ruin her and yourself if you do. She wants you to pay attention to her, ask her what’s wrong, and ask her what will make it better.

But the only thing that will make it better is for her to get turned inside out. Chesterton once said, “Oh how much bigger your world would be if you could become smaller in it.” What you must do then, in the face of her self-sorrow, is show her mirth. Show her what it is like to practice the sacred art of self-forgetfulness. And that counsel works just the same if Black Hole Bessie is looking back at you in the mirror.