Walking Humbly with God

A reflection on Micah 6:1-4, 6-8 for Monday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time.

The words of the prophet Micah are simple enough to remember and difficult enough to spend a lifetime practicing: do what is right, love goodness, and walk humbly with your God.

Humility is sometimes mistaken for self-denial in the worst sense. We may think it means shrinking ourselves, dismissing our gifts, remaining silent, or accepting poor treatment without protest. But true humility does not require us to believe that we are insignificant. It asks us to remember that we are not the center of everything.

To walk humbly with God is to admit that we do not possess God. We cannot reduce God to our preferences, our politics, our religious customs, or our understanding of how the world should work. God is always greater than the boundaries we draw.

This kind of humility changes the way we pray. Instead of asking only for confirmation that we are right, we begin to ask what we may be missing. Instead of assuming that God agrees with us, we allow God to question us. We become willing to be corrected, surprised, and changed.

Humility also changes family life. After many years of marriage, parenting, and watching children become adults, I have learned how little control we truly have over the people we love. We may offer advice, share what experience has taught us, and pray for those closest to us. But we cannot live their lives for them. Love must eventually loosen its grip.

Walking humbly means recognizing that another person’s story belongs first to that person. We may not understand all the fears, wounds, hopes, and experiences that shaped a decision. This does not mean that every choice is wise or that disagreement disappears. It means we approach one another with curiosity rather than immediate judgment.

Our parishes need this humility too. Church communities can become places where certain voices are treated as more trustworthy than others. Those who hold authority may speak too quickly, while women, young people, non-traditional families, immigrants, people with disabilities, and those who feel pushed to the edges are expected to listen quietly.

A humble Church would ask not only, “What do we have to teach?” but also, “Whom have we failed to hear?” It would understand that truth is not threatened by honest questions. It would listen without assuming that discomfort is the same as disobedience.

Humility matters especially in public life, where certainty is often rewarded and gentleness is treated as weakness. We are encouraged to speak before listening and to reduce people to labels. Yet a humble person resists the temptation to believe that one argument, one party, or one group possesses the whole truth.

We can hold firm convictions without treating others with contempt. We can name injustice clearly without denying the humanity of those who disagree. We can say, “I believe this is wrong,” while still asking, “What pain, fear, or experience am I failing to see?”

Walking humbly with God is not passive. Micah places humility beside justice and goodness. Humility does not excuse us from acting. It keeps our action from becoming self-righteous. It reminds us that even when we stand for what is right, we remain people in need of mercy.

Perhaps humility begins each morning with a quiet admission: God is God, and I am not. I have something to offer, and something to learn. I am called to speak, and called to listen. I will not understand every person I meet, but I can still treat each one as sacred.

Prayer

God of truth and mercy,
teach us to walk beside you without pretending to lead you.
Free us from the need to be certain about everything
and from the pride that closes our hearts to others.
Give us courage to pursue justice,
tenderness to love goodness,
and humility to listen before we judge.
Make our families, parishes, and communities
places where every person is treated with dignity.
Amen.