Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice.

Luke 17:15

I wasn’t praising anything with a loud voice when I finally cleaned up.

I was huddled in a corner of a room in rehab scratching my head at what the heck had conspired together to land me here.

I don’t deserve this.

No, I deserve a lot worse. When someone says (and I’ve done this too, so don’t take too much offense) that they’re doing “better than I deserve!”, I can’t help but grimace a little. Even though it’s probably true.

I still have a nervous tick about qualifying what exactly I deserve. It is a lot worse than what I’ve got. But at the same time I find a taste of arrogance in proclaiming that.

Whatever the case may be, one thing remains—it isn’t of my own accord that I am here and alive and growing up spiritually. I did some seeking, but God and others have met me where I was and guided me along.

Am I looking back at who I can help out next? Am I properly grateful, holding the right perspective of my former plight and current freedom?

Sometimes. Not always.

God, I want to live truthfully and honestly. Help me help others in the same way I’ve been led.