A deacon friend asked a devout co-worker if he had ever considered being ordained a
deacon. “I’m unworthy of that,” the man replied.
Unworthiness was the subject of Wednesday’s Bible sharing group at a local parish.
A lady in the group said she had always felt she needed to be perfect before God could love
her. A man said he felt discouraged in his faith because he wasn’t able to come close to the
holiness he strives for.
Then someone pointed out what we pray, echoing the Centurion in scripture, at every Mass:
“Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul will be healed.”
Do we believe it or not? Do we believe that God wants to heal us? Do we believe that God can heal us?
Yes!
Relax in His arms
So why don’t we relax and live the healing that we have already received? A sense of unworthiness can be a good thing, because it’s true. But our enemy twists that truth to separate us from God—the original lie from the father of lies.
The more we can live the whole truth of our unworthiness in the light of God’s limitless mercy (by receiving God’s limitless mercy!), the more we’re prepared for the attacks of unworthiness that come every day, and especially at death—our enemy’s last chance to convince us to choose hell over heaven!
St. Louis de Montfort countered these bouts of unworthiness on his deathbed. His last words were, “In vain do you attack me—I am between Jesus and Mary!” Only the goodness of God could protect him from the fearful memories of his own failings being hurled at him at such a vulnerable moment. God’s mercy must be our focus, now and always.
St. Paul writes of a God “who wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of
the truth.” Jesus is the Truth. For us, Mercy is the ultimate reality of God—and we have met
Mercy incarnate. With the look of love from Jesus’ two human eyes overflowing from a
human heart, mercy is no longer “out there,” but in Jesus, mercy has become personal and
immediate—always there for the asking.
Radical dependence
The hard part in accepting mercy, though, is that is involves radical dependence on God—
constantly sipping from the “living water” of his mercy. Constantly acknowledging that our
unworthiness is made whole only by Him and in Him.
The inability to heal ourselves by ourselves seems somehow like we’re doing something wrong. But we need to get over that and make a habit of letting God do the healing; let him “make up for” our unworthiness every day. St. Paul reminds us that “power matures in weakness.”
The abyss of mercy
Elizabeth of the Trinity put it this way: “We must descend daily this pathway of the Abyss
(that is, the “Deep”) which is God; let us slide down this slope in completely loving
confidence. ‘Deep calls unto deep.’ It is there in the very depths that the divine impact takes place, where the abyss of our nothingness encounters the Abyss of mercy.”
Better in 2026
One of my New Year’s resolutions is to be more dependent on God and less on myself. Will you join me in letting God take the wheel more in 2026? One way I can do that is to be less ambitious about what I expect to get done every day.
Scroll down and share one way you could “let go and let God” in 2026!