I harbor one legitimate fear: Having been given a seat at the wedding feast, the thought of ever going back into the misery and filth—the cold and the darkness of the highways and hedges, the streets and the alleys of a self-centered life—fills me with holy dread. From the depth of my heart I pray, in the words of St. Augustine, “Lord Jesus, don’t let me lie when I say that I love you…and protect me, for today I could betray you.”
