About Humility

Humility: it's being told by my roommate, after comparing body hair, that I have probably forever missed my chance to find a girlfriend. Its confidently changing the light fixture in my hallway, because I'm an electrician's son, and killing power to half the house. It's mistaking an orange ear plug for an old, spongy carrot. It learning that yet another childhood friend is married, and watching friends run down their chosen paths in life. It's the dread of explaining once again, to all those old friends, how the world that looks so plain to you looks so foresty to me, and that I really am vigorously spinning, looking for a path of dignified purpose. It's the gigantic pimple I feel coming in above my over-long mustache. It's writing run-on sentences in the middle of run-on paragraphs.

Humility is laughing at the hilarity of it all—walking around with a sloppy smile. It's bubbly gladness, zitty, oh-so-single happiness. It's sadness, being disheartened at times, and at other times astounded, confounded.

It sees angled light flowing through the last golden leaves of the maples. It sees the images of almighty God in a dozen different shades walking past. Sees and rejoices. It marvels at the depth of the blue sky, the freshness of fall air, the way that feet are for running and dancing.

It's not humility until it looks out, and then looks into the Good Book, and truly sees. I become flooded with the wonder of mercy, the grace of God. Behold His love, and think, that he would love us! Redemption, forgiveness, adoption, not singleness but family, purpose, and the love of a Father.

Worship boy. Worship little man. Worship you funny, two-legged, walking thing. It is good in spite of it all—because of it all. Jesus is good, always good. Today is a day for repentance and forgiveness. It's a day to drink gospel glory. Feel the grace that He is pouring over the life of his children. Laugh, love, leap, run, rejoice, for He is very good indeed.