Let Go Of My Ego

Part 1 – The Waffle and the War

1. A Breakfast Battle

You’ve seen the commercial. A sleepy kid stumbles into the kitchen clutching a golden waffle. Just as he’s about to take a bite, a sibling swoops in. They wrestle and shout the famous line: “Leggo my Eggo!”

It’s silly, harmless, unforgettable. But somewhere in that little jingle hides a parable about the soul.

Every one of us clings to something hot and buttery and ours. We may not wrestle over waffles, but we fight daily over control.

Our cry isn’t “Leggo my Eggo” — it’s “Let go of my ego.”

And heaven smiles sadly, because God’s been trying to take it out of our hands for years.

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2. The Real Meaning of Ego

Psychologists define ego as the conscious self—the “I” that makes choices and forms identity.

The Bible uses different language: flesh, self, old man, carnal mind. Whatever we call it, it’s that inner insistence on being first, being right, being noticed.

Ego is the self-appointed CEO of the soul. It hates dependence, it resents surrender, and it despises humility because humility feels like death.

The problem isn’t that you have an ego; the problem is when your ego has you.

When it clutches every decision, resists correction, and insists, “I’ve got this.”

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3. The Invisible Enemy Within

If you think the greatest spiritual battles happen in boardrooms or parliaments, think again.

They happen inside hearts—yours and mine.

We can preach against sin, campaign for virtue, sing about surrender, and still be ruled by self.

Ego is sneaky.

It dresses in church clothes.

It can kneel during prayer, raise its hands during praise, and still whisper, “Make sure people notice how humble you look.”

No wonder Jesus said, “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.”

You can’t follow Jesus and still follow your ego. They’re walking in opposite directions.

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4. The Worship of Me

We rarely bow to golden idols anymore, but our mirrors are polished altars.

Modern culture doesn’t simply tolerate ego; it markets it.

“Believe in yourself!” “Follow your heart!” “Speak your truth!” Those slogans sound inspiring—until you realize they enthrone self where only God belongs.

The gospel calls us not to self-esteem but to Christ-esteem.

The believer’s confidence is borrowed; it flows from union with Him.

Without that exchange, ego turns even spiritual gifts into trophies.

We start serving God for applause, praying to impress, posting to be praised.

The moment our why shifts from love to likes, ego has hijacked the mission.

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5. Paul’s Diagnosis

Paul knew that struggle intimately.

He’d been the best Pharisee ego could build: pedigree, education, zeal. Then he met Jesus on the Damascus road and learned that everything he’d stacked up was spiritual garbage compared to knowing Christ.

He wrote, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” (Gal 2 : 20)

Notice: he didn’t say, “I reformed my ego.”

He said, “I crucified it.”

Ego doesn’t need counseling—it needs a cross.

The old self doesn’t retire; it resurrects daily. That’s why Jesus said take up your cross daily.

Every morning your ego gets out of bed before you do. You don’t have to summon it—it’s already rehearsing lines in the mirror.

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6. The Symptoms of a Swollen Self

How do you know ego’s running the show?

• When correction offends you more than sin grieves you.

• When applause feels essential and anonymity unbearable.

• When comparison steals your joy faster than conviction brings repentance.

• When prayer becomes performance instead of dependence.

Ego cannot bear obscurity, yet most of Jesus’ life was lived in it.

For thirty silent years He worked with wood while the world ignored Him.

The Son of God shaped tables before He ever gathered disciples.

He was content to be unseen until the Father said, “Now.”

Ego would have posted daily progress reports. Jesus simply obeyed.

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7. The Cross as Ego’s Undoing

The cross is more than an instrument of salvation; it’s a blueprint for transformation.

Every nail driven into Christ’s body was also driven into self-rule.

At Calvary the King of glory emptied Himself of privilege and power, not because He was weak, but because He was love.

Philippians 2 paints it clearly:

> “Though He was in the form of God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing.”

The Greek word means to pour out.

Jesus didn’t cling to status; He poured it away.

And that’s the mind Paul tells us to have—“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.”

Let go of my ego.

Let go of the need to win.