Published by: Jadelynn Arnigo
Date Published: October 6, 2025
Time Published: 1:47 PM
Category: Prose
Subject: Humility and Compassion
I used to speak with certainty, sharp and careless, whenever I saw someone fall into choices I thought I was too strong to make. I whispered to myself, “I would never do that.” I carried judgment like a shield, thinking it would keep me righteous, thinking distance from another’s sin made me clean.
But the universe has a way of undoing pride. It waits quietly, watching, until the day it places you in the very shoes you once mocked. Suddenly, the lines blur. Suddenly, what seemed unforgivable becomes understandable. Suddenly, the world is not as black and white as you painted it.
When it was my turn to stumble, I felt the weight of my own words press against my chest. I understood the loneliness of temptation, the heaviness of choices made in desperation, the fragility of being human. And in that breaking, I realized judgment is easy when your hands are clean, but mercy is born when your hands are stained too.
To be an open sinner is to stand in the truth of your own flaws—naked, trembling, yet real. It is to admit that we are all capable of failing, all capable of becoming the very thing we once condemned. And maybe that is not weakness, but grace. Because only when we fall can we learn how to forgive, and only when we are humbled can we finally love without conditions.
The universe humbled me not to shame me, but to remind me: I am no higher than the soul beside me. We are all fragments of the same dust, broken in different ways, yet bound by the same fragile humanity.
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