Being the least...

“The seventh degree of humility is, when, not only with his tongue he declareth, but also in his inmost soul believeth, that he is the lowest and vilest of men, humbling himself
…” [St. Benedict (2011-04-30). The Rule of St. Benedict (Kindle Locations 414-415). PlanetMonk Books. Kindle Edition.]

This past Wednesday morning, as we met in prayer, we focused on the idea of confessing. And this has been much on mind.

When I was in my early 20’s, during one of those conversations that happen in the midst of a gathering, a guy I knew proceeded to exclaim the importance of maintaining your own car.  I must of guffawed or snorted because he proselytized quite prosaically on the simplicity of the task.  I confessed that I had absolutely no mechanical skill whatsoever, and even so simple a task was beyond me.  Later, we put his teaching skill and my mechanical aptitude to a test.  I ended up with a driveway full of oil, and he agreed I should never again attempt to remove an oil filter.

To confess a lack of mechanical skill required me not at all to humble myself before my peers.  However, now, to confess to my husband that maybe this lack of natural mechanical skill may make it impossible to be the sailor we might wish me to be, this is harder.  This requires me to admit that I may not be able to go with him and do all the things he dreams of doing; I may not be enough.  

Last week, we sailed a race with another couple, and Susan took the wheel.  She was glorious; she was an intrepid driver.   Then, one of the novice drivers on the boat took the wheel, and she sailed with great ease – more ease than I despite all my time on boats.  I envied every bit of her quick skill and her ease.  For a bit that afternoon, that bit of envy morphed into sin. I forgot to rejoice in these wonderful women’s amazing experience and gifts, and I wallowed in my own limitations.

To confess seems to mean more than to acknowledge the wrong action: the wrong action is merely the outward and visible sign of the wrongness in me.  If sin is turning from God, than confession is the act of acknowledge those parts of me that are not turned to God – or those that cannot turn to God – or those do not seem worthy of God – or those I want to keep to myself and do not even want to turn over to God.  And aye there’s the rub.  For in confessing, we are forgiven, and in this forgiveness, Christ makes us perfect; we are enough and Christ makes of us all we need to be.

This doesn’t mean I don’t continue to try to improve my skills, although this is tempting.  Recognizing the great skill of others does not mean I am hopeless.  Rather, I embark on sailing lessons and practice at the wheel with new humility.  I am more aware of my limitations and my need for mentors.  I will try to listen with more care to those with more wisdom.  I will try to accept that learning may take me more time.  I will take this one step at a time, go as far as I can go, and accept that Christ will get me as far as I need to go.