Akbar Turkmenbashi, "Great Leader of All Turkmen" as he is called, should be an object lesson for us all.

The leader of the Central Asian country of Turkmenistan probably started out innocently enough. I mean, what politician hasn't wanted a street named after himself. But Turkmenbashi keeps crossing boundaries into territory where even Stalin or Idi Amin would fear to tread.

First there were mosques, factories and airports named for him. Then his face appeared on Turkmenistan's currency, on vodka bottles and on packets of tea.

The height of arrogance would seem to have been reached when he placed a golden statue of himself on a 246-foot high arch in the capital, one that rotates so that his arms always point toward the sun.

But Turkmenbashi seems to be striving for egotism of biblical proportions.

In August he proposed renaming the months of the year, with January as "Turkmenbashi" and the rest of the months refering to himself in some way. For instance, October would be Spiritual Revival, the title of his book of historical and philosophical musings that is required reading in schools and colleges.

Many celebrities take care to buy their mom a big house once they achieve success. The "Great Leader" will rename the month of April after his mother, Kurbansultan Edzhe.

You might say he's the new poster boy for arrogance, vanity and overweening conceit.

I think of Mr. Turkmenbashi every time I'm tempted to feel slighted, whenever circumstances seem unfair or when I become impatient with a coworker.

Because there, but for the grace of God, go each and every one of us.

All the biblical prophets condemned pride and affirmed humility.

The Talmud says "He who offers humility to God and man shall be rewarded with a reward as if he had offered all the sacrifices in the world."

St. Augustine said humility is first, second and third in Christianity. In fact, the early Christians were so self-effacing that they refused to call their movement after its founder. Outsiders called them Christians. They referred to themselves as "people of the Way."

The way of Jesus has always been the low path, where we are beyond our own agendas and control. The devotional writer Andrew Murray concluded: "Remember that water always fills the lowest places first. The lower or emptier a person lies before God, the faster and fuller the inflow of God's character."

The world system always considers this to be crazy. Prudence demands that we fight for control and plan out our life like a budget. The source of man's humility stems from his existential helplessness in the shadow of God's omnipotence. But existential helplessness is not something people are rushing to experience. Still, there is a deep longing in everyone to leave our needs, doubts, debts and worries rolled up like our clothes on a lakeside rock so we can plunge into a carefree encounter with life.

If that's true, then why do so many Christians end up resembling Mr. Turkmenbashi more than the humble carpenter from Nazareth? Why do I?

I may not have tried to bend the very structure of time to declare my own glory, as the "Great Leader" has, but I sometimes refuse to bend my agenda to accommodate the needs of others I judge to have less important ends.

It's not the self promotion of the televangelists and mega-ministries, the self-help books or the Christian "success" seminars or even the ridiculous half-step-behind-the-world self-promotion of the Christian music business that is polluting the body of Christ. That's really only a drop in the bucket.

It's the everyday self-elevation that individual Christians perpetrate as we interact with others that grieves the Holy Spirit.

The problem, of course, is that our self-seeking is so ingrained in our human nature no amount of effort can dislodge it.

The problem of pride is so insidious that, as Benjamin Franklin said, "If I could conceive that I had completely overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility."

Our only hope is to recognize we are the "chief of sinners" as the Apostle Paul confessed, then repent and leave ourselves behind.

Humility is not just the absence of pride. It is a positive force, similar to a low-pressure zone in nature. As we empty ourselves, the Holy Spirit rushes in. The lower the pressure, the more intense the storm. That's how the small group of first-century believers were able to turn the world upside down.

Fortunately, such a low pressure zone exists even in Turkmenistan.

Last January, Baptist Pastor Shageldy Atakov, 39, was released from a Soviet-style prison camp after serving three years on trumped up charges of "swindling." Only official versions of Islam and the Russian Orthodox Church are allowed to operate in Turkmenistan, and Atakov just wouldn't stop talking about his new faith. A convert to Christianity from Islam, Atakov had been tortured with psychotropic drugs, beaten to the point where he could barely walk and was near death from intestinal illness brought on by his labor camp ordeal.

For most of Atakov's imprisonment, his family had been under "village arrest" after his wife refused to allow their five children to bow down to a portrait of Turkmenbashi in a daily school rutual.

After his release, Atakov expressed gratitude for the prayers and support he received from believers around the world, and announced he would continue his preaching. Yet, strangely to western ears, he added, "I need nothing from any organization or person. The Lord provides for me."

Perhaps humility like this could be the mustard seed that transforms Turkmenistan, and even the "Great Leader" himself.

But let it begin with us.