Humility

is the addict

clawing, sweating

in a church basement bathroom

crying out to a God he doesn’t know

exists to set him free from hell.

He casts aside everything he thinks he knows and prays in fervent desperation.

Humility is the sea, accepting the sun’s love, no pride in sight.

Humility is about never getting defensive.

Humility is reaching out to the man in the church basement

bathroom, knowing that helping him will keep your connection

with God alive.

Humility is an integral part of forgiveness, being aware of your own

transgressions, knowing they are probably no worse than the active addict.

Humility is about being in the center of the Universes, neither worse nor better

than anyone or anything.

The greatest humility is a steadfast abasement before God.

It is the appreciation of difference between others and oneself,

and not trying to ‘fix’ others, but in recognizing that even if they

are broken, I don’t have the power to heal them.

Humility is minding one’s own business, in that respect.

The earth worships the sun, knowing it is reliant upon it.

The sun worships the galaxy it finds itself in, knowing

it wouldn’t exist without it.

There is a web of worship interwoven in the Universe.

There are vast, quiet halls of worship in deep space.

All other principles come from humility,

as Thomas Merton wrote, “Humility is the surest sign of strength.”

We pray without knowing it, as do we worship the things we find beautiful,

I pray now that I have the humility to accept suffering.

And I pray that you have the humility to accept yours.

And may the almighty here this prayer, knowing that

this is one of the last ways I have to share

and I am his vessel.