It is hard to admit our errors, because a front of infallibility hides the quaking inadequacy underneath; indeed, we depend very heavily on the affirmation of those whose opinions we especially value. A dark look from them, or even a peep askance, may shatter, at least temporarily, our self-confidence. It is a painful lesson to stand on our own unsteady feet.

It must be very satisfying to be always right, for then everyone else can look up to one as to a minor god; but such an individual, if he or she really existed, would in the end be an object of pity rather than adulation! Life is growth, and the person who has attained absolute mastery so as to be the authority in all matters is closer to death than most of us would reckon. In fact, the real masters of particular disciplines are always aware of their deficiencies, and so are not only open to new insights but actually welcome them.

If this is true of scientific work, it is even more true of the spiritual life. The spiritual aspirant (to be sharply contrasted with the seeker after esoteric knowledge, who is driven by an ego lusting for power) is never far from his or her unconscious roots. Awareness of unworthiness is never far from the surface, and this produces a true humility. Far from rejecting outside criticism, it is accepted, painful as it so often is, with gratitude, and acted upon with diligence. As St Paul reminds us, "All alike have sinned, and are deprived of the divine splendour" (Rom. 3.23). The greatest saints have confessed their unworthiness, but God, while affirming their assessment of their inner lives, has reminded them that he is worthy. We are justified, brought into right relationship with God, by faith, which means a childlike trust, and not by any works that we may do. These works interpose the self-seeking ego between God and us, so spoiling the relationship and ultimately ruining the works themselves. On the other hand, when we are in right relationship with God, love informs our efforts, which then become a blessing to many.

It is interesting that the expression "to lose face", which means to be humiliated, to lose one's credit or good name, is of Chinese origin (according to the Oxford Dictionary it is a translation of tiu lien). In the Far East losing face is especially detestable, a fact of interest since the dominant religious systems stress the illusion of the ego, which is the power behind the face. In the Christian mode, the love of a personal God (manifested in the sacrifice of Christ for the sins of the whole world) can embrace the wounded face with forgiveness, so that it emerges more beautiful than ever before; its wounds have become worships, as Mother Julian of Norwich would put it. And so the sinful ego can be redeemed into loving service for God, the most glorious of all freedoms.

The quotation from Ecclesiasticus above ends with the injunction, "nor try to swim against the current". Our mistakes will always find us out in the end, and attempts to conceal them from God are as fruitless as trying to swim against a river's flow. Furthermore, our fellow humans will find us out very quickly too; like the emperor in Hans Andersen's story, our nakedness will be apparent to all except ourselves, eventually to be exposed by a small child. Therefore be kind to yourself, especially as the day closes and the night draws in for the period of sleep. But first make an inventory of the mistakes you have made, and then give them to God as your sacrifice on the altar of your heart. He will relieve you of them, so that you can go to bed disembarrassed of the guilt and misgivings which so rob one of sleep. Provided we have had the integrity to face our errors, the humility to give them to God, and the intention to be more careful in future, we may rest quietly, as the period of repose prepares us for the tasks of the next day.

May I have the courage and honesty to face my mistakes squarely and without equivocation, Lord, so that my humiliation may be the source of compassion and healing to others.