Crown the Ego: Building Legacy Through Love and Obedience
In a world that punishes vulnerability, how do we love unconditionally without losing ourselves? This post explores the tension between ego and obedience, asking whether legacy can be built through humility rather than ambition. It’s a guide for anyone seeking lasting impact beyond applause.
Mabuhay Evters!
This one is for the deep thinkers and deep feelers. Hope you find value in it! *rolls up sleeves*
There’s a tension I live with daily, between the call to love unconditionally and the need to protect myself from the world’s sharp edges. Between the humility that opens doors to divine wisdom, and the ego that helps me walk through them with confidence. I used to think ego was the enemy. Now I believe it’s a misunderstood ally.
This post is the third in a trilogy of sorts. In Love, Ego, and Pizza, I wrestled with the discomfort of selfless love. How embarrassment and obedience often go hand in hand. In The Rihanna Reign, I explored how humility forged a cultural dynasty, guided by the ancient wisdom of King Solomon. Now, I’m turning inward to ask: What is the role of ego in a life built on love, legacy, and divine nudges?
I don’t want to be a monk who disappears quietly. I want to be a builder. A systems architect of love, community, and impact. But I also don’t want to lose my soul in the process. That’s the dilemma of an ambitious architect: how to wield ego without being ruled by it. How to love deeply in a world that punishes vulnerability. How to build something eternal without becoming obsessed with being remembered.
This post is my attempt to reconcile those tensions. To find a blueprint for living with audacity and humility. To crown the ego not as a tyrant, but as a servant of love.
I’ve often wondered whether ego is something God gave us to build with, or something we must surrender to walk with Him. On the surface, ego feels like a gift: it fuels ambition, protects identity, and gives us the audacity to dream. But recently, God directed me to Galatians 5, and it’s made me pause.
Galatians 5 is a chapter about freedom. Not the kind that comes from self-assertion, but the kind that flows from surrender. Paul warns against indulging the flesh, listing traits that sound eerily familiar to the modern ego: jealousy, selfish ambition, discord, conceit. These aren’t just personality quirks, they’re signs of a life disconnected from the Spirit.
The contrast is stark. The fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control) is not ego-driven. It’s ego-less. It’s the kind of character that emerges when we stop trying to prove ourselves and start abiding in God’s presence.
This hit me hard. I realized I’d been spending more time nurturing my vision than nurturing my relationship with God. I was focused on building something lasting, but I wasn’t asking whether it was rooted in love or ego. Galatians 5 reminded me that legacy without love is just noise, and ego without Spirit is just performance.
So I’m asking the question out loud: Can a lasting legacy of love stem from a blossoming ego? Or does true legacy require ego to be pruned, reshaped, and ultimately submitted to something higher?
I don’t have the full answer yet. But I know this: if ego becomes the architect, love becomes the casualty. And if love is the fruit we’re called to bear, then ego must be transformed, not glorified.
At some point, every soul must choose: Do I seek serenity or significance? Do I kill my ego and vanish into stillness, or do I train it like a warhorse and ride it into battle?
This is the crossroads of transformation. The monk’s path offers peace, detachment, and transcendence. It’s the quiet surrender of self, the pursuit of enlightenment through ego death. But the warrior’s path demands engagement. It calls you to build, to fight, to love fiercely and risk everything for a legacy that outlives you.
Neither path is wrong. But they lead to different kingdoms.
The monk seeks freedom from suffering. The warrior seeks meaning through it. And meaning, unlike happiness, is forged in fire. Happiness is tidal. What delights you today may bore you tomorrow. But meaning is the compass that guides you through storms. It’s what keeps you moving when joy is nowhere to be found.
Galatians 5 reminds us that the fruits of the Spirit (love, patience, self-control) are not born from ego, but from surrender. Yet surrender doesn’t always mean silence. Sometimes it means obedience in motion. Sometimes it means kneeling at a bus stop, giving away your pizza, or building systems that nourish others long after you’re gone.
So the question becomes: Can ego be transformed into a servant of meaning? Can it be trained not to dominate, but to defend the vision God has placed in your heart? Can it help you endure unhappiness with purpose, emerging from the valley not just intact, but crowned? Not just healed, but holy?
If ego is a warhorse, then the question isn’t whether to ride it, but whether you’ve trained it to serve the right kingdom.
Left untamed, ego charges toward selfish ambition, envy, and conceit. The very traits Galatians 5 warns against. But under divine discipline, ego can become a carrier of courage. It can help you rise when the world knocks you down. It can protect the vision God has placed in your heart, not out of pride, but out of purpose.
This is the paradox: ego must be transformed, not worshiped. It must be yoked to the Spirit, not the flesh. That means submitting your ambition to divine timing. It means letting go of the need to be seen, and instead asking to be used.
So maybe the warhorse isn’t ego itself, but the part of you that’s willing to be trained. The part that says, “I will go where You send me, even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it’s unseen.” That’s the kind of ego God can use. Not the one that demands attention, but the one that carries love into battle.
If you’re anything like me, you’ve wrestled with ego, love, and the search for meaning. You’ve stood at the crossroads between monk and warrior, asking which path will lead you not just to peace, but to purpose. Whichever path you choose, let it be intentional. Fulfillment isn’t found in a single moment of clarity, but in the daily choices that shape your soul and your legacy.
Here are four practices I’ve uncovered in my studies. Ways to transform ego from a master into a servant of love:
God doesn’t always speak in thunder. Sometimes He whispers through your own thoughts, your own conscience, your own discomfort. The pizza story taught me that. So did the bus stop prayer.
If you feel a tug to act in love, even when it’s inconvenient or unclear, pause and listen. That nudge might be divine. And obedience in small things builds trust for greater things.
Love isn’t always elegant. Sometimes it’s awkward, public, and vulnerable. But that’s where its power lies.
Kneel when prompted. Give when it costs you. Risk looking foolish if it means someone else feels seen. Embarrassment is often the price of intimacy with God, and with others.
Your ego will defend whatever identity you feed it. So feed it truth. Feed it humility. Feed it the vision of a king who serves, not a tyrant who demands.
Affirm daily: “I am here to build, to bless, to obey.” Let your ego become the warhorse that carries love into places you’d never reach on foot.
Love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a structure. It’s the way you design your life, your work, your relationships.
Build systems that outlive you. Create rhythms of generosity, rituals of connection, and legacies of care. Whether it’s a family dinner, a community initiative, or a creative project, make love the architecture.
Writing this post was uncomfortable. Vulnerable. Embarrassing, even. But that’s the point. This is my own act of embarrassing love, an offering to anyone who’s ever felt torn between building something meaningful and staying close to God. Between wanting to be remembered and wanting to be obedient.
I don’t have all the answers. I’m still listening for divine nudges, still wrestling with Galatians 5, still trying to figure out how to let my ego serve love instead of sabotage it. But I know this: the world doesn’t need more people chasing applause. It needs more people chasing obedience.
So here’s my challenge to you:
Don’t kill your ego. Crown it, and let it serve love.
Let it carry your courage. Let it protect your purpose. Let it kneel when God says kneel. Let it build systems of love that outlive your name.
And when you need a soundtrack for that journey, I recommend Halsey’s “Ego.” It’s raw, conflicted, and painfully honest. An anthem for anyone who’s ever felt like their ego might kill them before they figure out how to tame it.
If you want something more triumphant, try “Alive” by Sia. It’s a battle cry for the soul. A reminder that you can survive, thrive, and rise again, even when the world tries to drown you.
This is the journey of the servant-king. The one who listens, loves, and builds with trembling hands and a steady heart.
Let’s walk it together.
Halsey - Ego
Sia - Alive
– GTT (Gehlee Tunes Team)
“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” - Matthew 11:28 🕊️
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