Knowing Who We Are, Learning How to Live

The Curious Pilgrim
Daily Office Reflection — Sunday, October 4, 2026
Psalms 111, 112, 113, 146, 147; Micah 6:1–8; 1 Corinthians 4:9–16; Matthew 15:21–28

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”

I have been sitting with those words today. What does it mean to fear God? What does it mean to be wise? And what difference should either make when we step outside our prayers and go about living?

I understand this fear as reverence: recognizing God’s holiness and goodness, acknowledging my dependence on God, and remaining willing to be taught. Wisdom gives that reverence hands and feet. It helps me make decisions and live in relationship with God, my neighbors, myself, and creation.

Psalm 111 remembers God’s works and praises God’s faithfulness, justice, and mercy. Psalm 112 then describes people whose lives begin to reflect those qualities. They practice generosity and conduct their affairs justly. Their trust sustains them when bad news comes.

There is a connection here that I cannot escape. If I revere a gracious and merciful God, that reverence ought to shape how I treat people.

And, sad to say, we all fall short. I certainly do.

The Sacred Writings give us stories, teachings, and parables that form our understanding and guide our decisions. Yet we can also take those writings and use them as weapons of control. I need the Holy Spirit’s help to examine my interpretations, including those about which I feel most certain. Am I becoming more loving, more truthful, more generous, and more willing to listen?

Micah brings the question home: do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.

Few words are so easy to admire and so difficult to practice honestly.

Justice may cost me something. Kindness may be required toward someone who frustrates me. Humility may mean admitting that I have misunderstood, benefited from an injustice, or caused harm myself.

I think about the Trail of Tears and slavery. I think about immigrants and how we treat one another today. These histories and circumstances differ, but they press a common question upon my conscience: whose suffering have we learned to overlook or excuse?

Sojourner Truth, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and Rosa Parks speak volumes to me. Their witness gives justice a human face. They remind me that humility can stand firmly and that faith can speak courageously.

I remember Black soldiers who served during the Civil War and Navajo Code Talkers who contributed so much during World War II. People from communities denied dignity and equal treatment helped defend this country. Their service deserves gratitude. Their dignity was already theirs before they served.

These questions become personal when I think about Rex, my son-in-law Danny, my grandson Nick, and so many others who volunteer for service. I care about their safety, their sacrifices, and the lives awaiting them at home. I also think about my Quaker ancestors and the commitment to peace within that tradition.

I cannot tie all of this into a neat package. Pearl Harbor and September 11 confront us with terrible questions about protecting people, responding to violence, and the consequences of our response. Justice, kindness, and humility must accompany us into those decisions. Every decision concerns someone’s life.

Paul adds another searching question: whose example are we following?

The Corinthians were caught up in quarrels over leaders. Paul points them toward the life of service he has lived. When abused, the apostles bless. When persecuted, they endure. When slandered, they respond graciously.

Churches and countries can become centered on personalities. I can become so loyal to someone that I excuse conduct I would condemn in another. As a follower of Jesus, I need to ask what kind of person I am becoming under the influences I welcome.

Then I come to the Canaanite woman asking Jesus to heal her daughter.

“Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”

Those words are among the most profound in the Bible to me.

I hear a woman who knows who she is. I understand her as recognizing herself and her daughter as God’s creation, possessing a dignity that society’s judgment cannot erase. Her answer challenges the place assigned to her while expressing trust that God’s mercy can reach her child.

Matthew does not tell us every thought within her heart. But I see courage in her persistence. She brings her need before Jesus and continues to believe that her plea can be heard. Jesus recognizes her great faith, and her daughter is healed.

Knowing who we are holds dignity and dependence together. I am God’s creation. I need God’s mercy. I can trust God enough to ask—and remain open to being changed.

The psalms praise the God who raises the poor, watches over strangers, frees prisoners, gathers outcasts, and heals broken hearts. I find spiritual meaning here: shame can imprison us, prejudice can blind us, and grief can bow us down. Those connections also deepen my responsibility toward people experiencing poverty, exclusion, disability, and loss.

The God I praise calls me into relationship with these neighbors.

So today I am asking myself: whose dignity have I failed to recognize? Where do I need correction? What would justice, kindness, and humility look like in my next conversation or decision?

I would welcome your reflections too. Where are these readings touching your life?

Lord, teach us wisdom. Help us recognize the dignity you have given every person. Show us where we fall short, and give us courage to make amends. Let the mercy we receive become the mercy we offer. Guide our feet in justice, kindness, and a humble walk with you. Amen.