Happily blessed are the poor in spirit

I was discussing the beatitudes recently, and someone indicated that they weren't sure they fully understood what it meant to be poor in spirit. I can understand their confusion. Surely the Lord wasn't just talking about economic poverty, right? But maybe there needs to be room in the concept to include that category of poorness, too?

By no means is this "the" definitive answer, but for me, the idea of poverty of spirit is closely coupled with those of humility and dependence on God. I spent so much of my life trying to be self-sufficient, and I recognize now that this extended even into my attempts to be in relationship with God. In fact, I think I was among the many who view Christianity primarily as a means of becoming a good person, such that the scale of our life comes into a balance that, upon our death, merits our entry into our heavenly home. While there indeed should be evidence of transformation over the course of a Christian's walk with God, I've come to believe that this is a side effect of living the essence of Christianity, which I believe is an utter dependence on God.

I will never be able to approach God with an attitude of entitlement. At the end, I will not be sputtering "But . . . but . . . I did this and that and the other, and I never . . . ." I will not have any illusions of being worthy of the place which Jesus has prepared for me.

To me, being poor in spirit means knowing, truly knowing in the heart in a way that gets beyond the cliché that the words have become, that I cannot approach on my own the glory and righteousness of God. My only hope of salvation is that which God has provided for me through Jesus. Oh, I am not conveying this well.

Suppose an abusive father loses his family, is imprisoned for his crimes against them, and therein or thereafter comes to truly embrace the process of becoming a healthy person. He does the painful work of therapy, doing his part to repair his brokenness and that which he has caused. His family gradually comes to see and embrace the new person he has become.

Do you suppose that father ever reaches the point of believing that he is entitled to be restored to his family? Or rather, does he forever recognize his unworthiness of them, and with overflowing gratitude accept his restored place in their grace and forgiveness and love, bought at the price of their own pain and in which he has only of late participated positively?

I think this conveys my understanding of poorness of spirit. It is profoundly humble, and utterly recognizes, fully appreciates, and consistently celebrates the profound love it knows it could never deserve.