“The princes of the Ammonites said to Hanun their lord, ‘Do you think, because David has sent comforters to you, that he is honoring your father? Has not David sent his servants to you to search the city and to spy it out and to overthrow it?’ So Hanun took David’s servants and shaved off half the beard of each and cut off their garments in the middle, at their hips, and sent them away.”—2 Samuel 10:3–4 (ESV)

In 2 Samuel 10, David sends envoys to comfort Hanun, the new king of the Ammonites, after his father’s death. I cannot stress enough how rare this gesture was, particularly between warring nations. But David wasn’t like other kings. Sadly, though, what could’ve been the beginning of peace turns into the spark of war. Why? Because Hanun’s pride, fed by the bad influences he had surrounded himself with, couldn’t accept the possibility that someone might actually be sincere. 

He hears a whisper from his advisors: “They’re spying on you. David’s men are here to scout and overthrow!” From there, fear and pride took over. Instead of investigating, instead of waiting, instead of reaching out, he reacted violently. He humiliated David’s men, sending them back disgraced and exposed.

And with that one move, Hanun incited war—all because pride wouldn’t allow him to be vulnerable, grateful, or gracious. Friends, take these words to heart; internalize them and set them up as a warning sign in your heart: Pride redefines everything about you and around you.

What’s tragic here is that Hanun didn’t need to be paranoid. David had no hidden agenda. This wasn’t a test; it was a genuine attempt to bless, honor, and connect. But this is what pride does . . . it rewrites the story.

When pride creeps in, it becomes the filter through which we view things. It can turn kindness into manipulation. It makes compliments sound like threats. It makes healthy relationships feel unsafe. It causes you to treat your allies like enemies and your enemies like allies. It clouds your judgment and demands you to protect your image at all costs—even if it means ruining something good in the process.

And it’s not just an ancient king problem—it’s a human problem that dates back to the Garden. Think back with me to Genesis 2–3. “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden,” God said, “but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die” (Genesis 2:16–17 NIV).  

You’d think that with all the literally perfect options, they would’ve been satisfied and content forever. But along came a serpent to plant a simple, prideful seed: “God’s holding out on you.”

So now, even with limitless, perfect options all around, “the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom” (Genesis 3:6 NIV). I can see it playing out in my head:

Eve sees the tree . . . That is one good looking tree! How can something so beautiful be bad? 

Eve sees the fruit . . . That looks delicious. There’s no way something that tasty looking could be deadly. 

Eve remembers the serpent’s words . . . It would be nice to be like God, to know everything He knows. How can I go wrong in becoming like Him? He must be keeping something from me.

Do you see how it plays out? Your spouse apologizes, but pride won’t let you forgive. A friend gives you hard truth, but pride turns it into offense. A door opens, but pride says, “Don’t let them think you need it.”

On the surface, pride is always defensive, fearful, and obsessed with control, but dig a little deeper and you’ll discover that it’s really just insecurity wearing armor. It’s defensiveness that becomes offensive, which is why a common response of the prideful is to humiliate others in order to avoid walking in humility.

And that’s what Hanun did. He didn’t just reject the messengers—he shamed them. He shaved half of their beards and cut their clothes at the waist. It was a message of supreme disrespect, meant to humiliate, to make these men feel small. 

But here’s the irony: The more you try to protect your pride, the more obvious your insecurity becomes. Hanun didn’t look strong—he looked small. He didn’t look bold—he looked like a boy playing king, terrified of being perceived as weak. 

And as we mentioned at the beginning, we see this act of humiliation didn’t happen in a vacuum. Instead, it sparked a full-scale war between Israel and Ammon. What could have been a relationship marked by kindness became a disaster driven by ego.

Friends, don’t be deceived: Pride will always cost more than the sticker price. It’s never content with one moment—it escalates. It doesn’t just break relationships—it burns bridges and then blames others for the fire.

Proverbs 11:2 (NIV) says, “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.” And Proverbs 13:10 (NIV) echoes it: “Where there is strife, there is pride.” 

Conflict often has less to do with right and wrong and more to do with bruised egos, unhealed wounds, and pride that refuses to bow. As Christ followers and children of God, may we remember these words: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves” (Philippians 2:3 NIV). 

Pause: Where has pride caused you to misread people or reject kindness? Can you trace conflict in your life back to moments of ego?

Practice: Ask someone close to you this week where they’ve seen pride sneak into your responses or relationships. Don’t defend . . . just listen.

Pray: Father, strip away my pride. I don’t want to wear fear like armor. I want to walk in humility. Help me to receive correction, to welcome kindness, and to choose grace over control. Teach me to trust You enough to let go of my need to always be right. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.