The Peril of Self-Pity

“Self-pity is our worst enemy and if we yield to it, we can never do anything wise in this world.”—Helen Keller

“Self-pity is a death that has no resurrection, a sinkhole from which no rescuing hand can drag you because you have chosen to sink.”—Elisabeth Elliot

If you are newly bereaved, please read this post with caution. Your sorrow in loss is perfectly justified. No thinking person would have the temerity to suggest that your pain is in any way caused by self-pity. It took years—after some of the stings of loss had been eased—for me to realize that it was imperative to my recovery that I address the issue of self-pity, for indeed, a more enervating emotion—other than fear—does not exist. Assenting to that emotion invariably leads to an astonishingly rapid downward slide to depression, which, once initiated, becomes very difficult to reverse.

The term “self-pity” for me instantly conjures an image of Gollum [Sméagol], the bestial character in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy and a quintessential embodiment of self-centered self-pity. The image of this slimy character slithering along on his belly—the personification of a dangerously oppressed being—is the very antithesis of its counterpart, an upstanding, faith-speaking, steadfast child of God. 

Gollum’s idiosyncratic speech: talking to himself in sibilant whispers, his use of ileums—indicative perhaps of a severe identity disorder—and his manner of “hissing and whining,” while [speaking] to his precious self, represents the twisted expressions of one entirely preoccupied with self. Indeed, the name Gollum, which literally means “a horrible swallowing noise in [the] throat,” reminds us of the tight lump in the throat generated by the onset of a wave of self-pity. Gollum’s self-indulgence resulted in a grotesque mutation of both body and mind into an unrecognizable form, no doubt attributable to the fact that—in the words of Tolkien—”his head and his eyes were downward.” 

During times when I was tempted to wallow in self-sorrow, this image would surface as a stern reminder to steer clear. Capitalizing on victimhood is dangerous. Self-pity creates a wide gateway. Unrestrained, it gives us implicit permission to comfort our poor souls with every manner of indulgence. It fuels anger—which, turned inward, is the definition of depression—and sounds the death knell to faith, hope, and joy. 

The word “self” is the tip-off; Christians would do well to avoid overfamiliarity with any emotion that contains the self we’re instructed to die to. Indeed, we are admonished to be ruthless in eradicating the self-serving tendencies inherent in our human natures. There are very sound reasons for doing so, and they all result in some identifiable good for us. God has provided us with an exhaustive list of benefits that result from reckoning ourselves dead to sin. Our attitudes should reflect all that is wonderful about the salvation and hope we have been generously provided. 

Far from being unkind, God’s unconventional and effective Lord of the Rings analogy rescued me from a dozen downward spirals. Self-pity is, in essence, self-destruction. We allow it, or we disavow it.