A Guinness and A'Kempis

I have sought out my own self importance, having been made to believe that I was not important at all, nor was I wanted by those who were supposed to have me. Not only was I not wanted but I was the source of their grief. So now, Father, what I seek is my own importance, and the words of your servant, Kempis, concerning this quest, though difficult to listen to, are true. The praises of man are empty, they are shallow and deceitful. When I receive the praise from those whom I longed for it to come it is meaningless. It does not answer the question nor does it alleviate the stinging of the wound. 

So I confess, to you my God, that I am nothing. In my proclamation of nothingness I feel liberated from the quest of establishing myself as something. I am nothing, and that which I am I am only so because of you.

For in my dreams I see the fruit of my labor. I see the fruit of the work of my hands and the sweat of my brow. What I see in these visions is the alienation that has ensued from every friendship and relationship in every chapter of my life. I see discord and dissonance of those whom I love being pushed away before they could confirm my nothingness, or whose encouragements did not do what I had hoped they would. I use people, Father. In this moment I understand the meaning of this “mortification of the flesh.” The flesh seeks itself. I am a slave unto me. 

“Whatever a man be worth in the sight of God, says the humble St. Francis, so much is he and no more, no matter how holy and how virtuous he is taken to be in the sight of people (145).”

So then Father, what am I to you? I will be vulnerable with you Father, and place the contents of my soul in your lap, and will trust you with the question that haunts me the most, whether or not I am, will be, or can be satisfied with your answer.