I started a Bachelor of Behavioural Science in 2010, and with the exception of one unit, had the degree wrapped up by the start of 2013. So, I set about looking for a full-time job. After eight weeks of applications, I landed a job in the Direct Sales team at a phone company. This is one of the most intensely competitive departments within the company.

The experience of overt competitiveness was quite a culture shock. I moved from a culture of false humility at uni, where pride was downplayed, to one in which it is openly encouraged and its fruits celebrated. Within my first fortnight at work I was sitting seventh in the sales tally. When I began to be congratulated for my efforts, I started to feel a rather uncomfortable tension. On the one hand, I knew exactly how I should be acting. I was to eschew pride and show humility. Yet sadly, despite knowing the right response, my daily behaviour didn’t show it. When success came knocking, my pride answered, and I looked no different from my non-Christian colleagues.

All this opened up the question for me: how should I deal with success as a Christian?

Humility does not come naturally to me; it’s not my first port of call as soon as things start going my way. However, I needed (and still need) to come to terms with humility. Why? Because it is an inescapable part of the gospel and an essential part of Jesus’ character.

Firstly, the gospel. The concept of grace, that I am an unworthy sinner restored to relationship with God on the basis of everything that Jesus has done and despite everything I have done, naturally engenders humility. I cannot be a Christian and think that I deserve any of God’s goodness towards me.

But there’s also the character of the Lord Jesus, which I, as his follower, am to imitate. The Son of God, the Creator and Sustainer of all things, humbled himself to become a human and to die like a criminal. The birth, life and death of Jesus show incredible humility. I need to look like him if I claim to follow him.

After some introspection, the root of my pride dawned on me: my work life lacked a conscious working out of the gospel. This conscious use of the gospel, as a filter through which to pass everything, hadn’t been as necessary at uni. Amongst the plethora of worldviews on offer, I had been able to surround myself with a group of Christian peers. We were soaked in a Christian worldview which sees all things, including success, as gifts received gratefully and humbly from God. I shared organically in this Christian worldview. It wasn’t necessary to employ it consciously when processing information. It was simply always there.

However, when I left my Christian bubble and moved to the egocentric environment of the sales team, my pride flourished without the checks and balances of my Christian peer group. Without the organic presence of the gospel and its message of grace, pride took root in my work life.

Although I write in the past tense, my struggle with pride is by no means over. Believe it or not, I’m not walking around the sales floor emanating a strong white light, floating one inch above the ground on a cloud of holiness and good intention. But what I am doing is ensuring that I re-tell myself the gospel daily. Now I make a conscious effort to remember that everything I have is a gift from my heavenly Father. From the country I live in, to the family I was born into, to the job that I have. All these things are amazing blessings, and all entirely undeserved. When I remember to think this way, I can’t be self-important. Pride flees in the face of this daily account.

Although this is not the only lesson I have learnt since starting full-time employment, it is certainly one of the most powerful. Join me in preaching yourself the gospel daily. Confront yourself with the love and grace of God on a regular basis, bask in it and let it permeate the entirety of your life.

Paul Matthews - graduting Bachelor of Behavioural Science at UTAS in 2013