Quiet Praise

The sun rose gradually over the dusty horizon. A morning trek to the temple was planned for the day. It was a narrow and dirty road that led to the steps of the sacred structure. Step by step it seemed was a slow and intentional process of self-discovery and purification. 

Two men of very different upbringings were to make similar journeys, though different paths would be taken by the pair of them. One was a climber of the social ladder, the other a public official. Both men had had great triumphs in their lives. Each had a family. Each had attained a level of notoriety in their own sphere. Yet on their way to the temple that morning, they were each lost in the thoughts of their own lives. 

A funny thing it is, really, a thought. It can be the purest form of communication with one's self, yet in the brutality of honesty inside one's heart, small subtle lies can be spun like thread weaving together the tapestries of false identity, false understanding and false security. 

An idea can start small and grow into a fantasy. It can become a grand adventure, a vicious plot by your subconscious to trick to you into thinking something is not. The travesty is that more often than not, the most grandiose lies we tell our to ourselves. 

The socialite had spent his life desperate to please others. The soft thrill it gave him to snatch the approval of his self-made critics was akin to gluttony. Yet day after day, week after week he would press on in mockery of himself wearing hat after hat and mask after mask to please and impress all he came into contact with. 

Deep down, he was a good man. But the genuineness of his soul was buried in a thick tapestry of pretending. He had thoroughly convinced himself that he was above the lower class, the middle class, and the majority of the upper. He, who could win anyone, even God himself was no seeker of self-mastery or correction. 

The other man was quiet. His passion was his work, second his family. He had made mistakes in his profession, and even more with his family. Yet the dedication was quietly hidden under his determination to prove successful. He had a love of God, but too often his love of monetary increase left him beyond the mark. There was something missing in this man's busy, scheduled life. 

He too was a good man. Misguided, but good. 

The socialite took the journey, step by step thinking of his clothes, his fame, his upcoming agenda and on occasion, his God to whom he would feign address. 

The other took each step carefully and methodically. His thoughts directed not on the money he would make from the next account he would secure, but suddenly, vulnerably, on himself. Yet they were not the selfish ones he so often had. Like the cogs of a great machine, his mind slowly began to dissect what exactly was missing from his life. 

It was a humble man who hailed from Galilee. He was called the Christ. Both men had heard of him, felt of his power, yet slowly the wonder of it had faded from their hearts. With it, melted  the desire to align their wills with one far greater than they. Instead, they had aligned their hearts with the world. It was empty. It was bleak. 

The socialite entered the doors, hoping the many prominent people in attendance would notice him and his high and mighty spirituality. His eyes darted around quickly to see who he could impress with ease. He picked a central spot, and prostrated himself upon the ground, praising God with his false tongue, thanking him for his high status and importance. 

He looked around, too pleased with himself for words. His eyes passed over everyone, including a small, quiet man in the shadows of the corners. 

His head was humbly bowed, tears dripped from his eyes. The journey had changed him, step by step. 

"God be merciful to me a sinner," he said. 

His wet eyes suddenly saw into a tainted soul that had remain unlooked upon for years. He could not remember the last time he had taken an inventory of his life. He did not like what he found. However, there was a small flicker of hope as he remembered the man from Galilee. Step by step had led the quiet man to Him. 

Praise be to God that He is merciful to sinners, like me.