On Receiving

I have always found it easier to give than to receive. Giving feels clean — purposeful, directed, controlled. Receiving requires something harder: the admission that I have a need, that I cannot do this alone, that the gift is genuinely welcome.

But there is a spiritual pride in always being the one who gives. It keeps the other person at arm's length. It maintains a certain distance that looks like generosity but is actually self-protection. If I am always giving, I never have to be vulnerable. I never have to say: I needed that. Thank you.

Jesus received. He received the ointment poured over his feet. He received hospitality in Mary and Martha's home. He received Simon's help carrying the cross. He received the women's presence at the crucifixion when the disciples had fled. He was not too proud to need.

I am learning to receive. A compliment, held rather than deflected. A meal brought by a neighbor, accepted with honest gratitude. A kind word, allowed to land rather than batted away. It is harder than it sounds. And it is, I am discovering, its own form of grace.