Daily Reflection – 10/31/2025
Sacred Scripture
On a Sabbath he went to dine at the home of one of the leading Pharisees, and the people there were observing him carefully. In front of him there was a man suffering from dropsy. Jesus spoke to the scholars of the law and Pharisees in reply, asking, “Is it lawful to cure on the Sabbath or not?” But they kept silent; so he took the man and, after he had healed him, dismissed him. Then he said to them, “Who among you, if your son or ox falls into a cistern, would not immediately pull him out on the Sabbath day?” But they were unable to answer his question. (Luke 14: 1-6)
Reflection
Luke tells us that Jesus entered the house of a leading Pharisee on the Sabbath, and “they were watching Him closely.” That gaze was not one of wonder but of suspicion.
Standing before Jesus was a man suffering from dropsy, a visible image of human frailty and longing. The moment exposes a striking contrast: while the scribes and Pharisees guarded their rules and reputations, Jesus guarded the heart of God—compassion, mercy, and the restoring of the broken. He asks a disarming question: “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?” Their silence indicts them. Jesus heals the man and sends him away whole. The kingdom has arrived—not with rigid fences, but with a door wide open.
This passage reveals a radical disconnect between divine desire and religious performance. Jesus does not abolish God’s law; He fulfills its deepest intent. Sabbath was always meant for restoration. In healing, Jesus displays the true character of the Christian faith: healing that restores dignity, humility that bows before God’s will, and hospitality that makes space for the wounded. He brings hope where others bring scrutiny, presence where others bring pressure, and liberation where others load burdens.
Of these virtues, humility is often the hardest for us to embrace. We misunderstand it as self-negation or poor self-image. But humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself rightly—in the light of God. James writes, “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will exalt you” (James 4:10). True humility is the courage to see ourselves as God sees us: sinners in need of grace, yet beloved children made in His image. We are flawed, yes—but never forsaken. We are small, but not insignificant. Humility lives in the holy tension between our need and God’s nearness. It is honesty before the Lord, where pretense dies and healing begins.
Humility also becomes visible only in our treatment of others. It is not a medal to pin, but a manner to practice. The world urges self-promotion, relentless ascent, the hustle to the head of the table. Jesus reverses the ladder: “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” The way up in the kingdom is down—the downward movement of love. To treat others as more significant than ourselves, to yield the seat of honor, to choose service over status—this is the shape of Christian greatness.
Jesus Himself is the model for all that humility means. He stepped down from glory, took on flesh, and on the night He was betrayed, He bent down with basin and towel, washing the feet of friends who were too proud to serve. He humbled Himself even to death on a cross. And what did the Father do? He highly exalted Him and gave Him the name above every name. In Christ, we discover that humility is not humiliation but the path of holy exaltation—God’s lifting, God’s affirmation, God’s joy resting on the lowly of heart. Without Jesus we are nothing; in Jesus we can do all things He calls us to do. That is humility in action: dependence that becomes boldness, surrender that bears fruit.
Finally, true humility is refined through adversity. Sometimes, when pride creeps in unnoticed, God allows humbling experiences to turn us back to Him. Paul understood this intimately: “To keep me from becoming conceited, there was given me a thorn in my flesh” (2 Corinthians 12:7). The thorn was not a punishment but a tutor—a means of grace that taught Paul to rely on God’s sufficiency.
Our own “thorns” may be disappointments, delays, or limitations—unwanted companions that press us into prayer and keep us grounded in grace. In those seasons, humility grows roots. We learn to receive our lives as gifts, our strength as borrowed, our victories as testimonies to God’s faithfulness, not our own ingenuity.
These lines of scripture invite us to exchange suspicion for compassion, position for presence, and rigidity for mercy. The Pharisees watched Jesus to trap Him; Jesus watched the suffering to heal them. If we follow Him, we will do the same. We will open our tables and our calendars. We will let Sabbath—our worship, our work, our weeks—become spaces of restoration. We will confess our pride and embrace the downward way of love. And we will trust the Father who lifts the lowly in due time. When we humble ourselves before the Lord, He will lift us up—perhaps not to the head of the world’s table, but into the very heart of God. In that place, healing, humility, and hospitality cease to be concepts; they become our way of life.
Prayer of The Day
“Lord Jesus, may I always honor you, both in my work and in my rest, and in the way I treat my neighbor. Fill me with your love and keep me free from a critical and intolerant spirit that I may always seek to please you and to bring good to my neighbor as well.”
Daily Note
Humility means far more than just welcoming others appropriately as good manners. It is to remind us that God has given us all good things for no good reason. It is to remind us that God invites us to do the same for others. It is an invitation to take our faith seriously enough to live and act differently. Because our faith is important only to the degree that it helps us navigate the daily decisions and situations that attend our lives.
