Bill Wilson (Bill W.), co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, described absolute (or “perfect”) humility as an ideal state rather than a permanent human achievement. [1, 2]
Definition of Absolute Humility
Bill Wilson defined absolute humility with two core components: [1, 2]
- Freedom from self: A state of complete freedom from oneself and the heavy burden of character defects.
- Will of God: A full, continuous willingness in all times and places to find and do the will of God. [1, 2]
Key Teachings on Humility
- An Ideal, Not a Destination: Wilson emphasized that humans live and grow in the domain of the relative, not the absolute. No human is a saint or capable of permanent perfection; people claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection. [1, 2]
- No Dismay or Presumption: When meditating on the vision of absolute humility, a person does not need to be dismayed by their ongoing imperfections, nor swell with the arrogant presumption that they have permanently mastered it. [1]
- Getting Down to “Right Size”: In writings like As Bill Sees It and the AA Grapevine, Wilson noted that recognizing one’s true size and stature reduces self-importance and self-concern to a healthy perspective—turning ego into something light or amusing rather than dominant.[1, 2]
- The Foundation of Recovery: Humility is viewed as the engine of recovery and the direct antidote to self-centeredness and fear, which Wilson identified as the root drivers of addiction. [1]
“Perfect” Humility – As Bill Sees It Meditation #106
For myself, I try to seek out the truest definition of humility that I can. This will not be the perfect definition, because I shall always be imperfect.
At this writing, I would choose one like this: “Absolute humility would consist of a state of complete freedom from myself, freedom from all the claims that my defects of character now lay so heavily upon me. Perfect humility would be a full willingness, in all times and places, to find and to do the will of God.”
When I meditate upon such a vision, I need not be dismayed because I shall never attain it, nor need I swell with presumption that one of these days its virtues shall all be mine.
I only need to dwell on the vision itself, letting it grow and ever more fill my heart. This done, I can compare it with my last-taken personal inventory. Then I get a sane and healthy idea of where I stand on the highway to humility. I see that my journey toward God has scarce begun.
As I thus get down to my right size and stature, my self-concern and importance become amusing.
What Jesus Says About Humility
Bill tells us we can’t reach perfect humility and points us toward it anyway. Jesus doesn’t argue with that. But when I read what he actually said, I notice he hardly ever defines humility. He shows it, and then he tells stories that catch me in the act of not having it.
One of those stories is about a dinner party. In Luke 14 he watches the guests jockey for the best seats, and he says what everyone at the table already knew and nobody would say out loud: take the lowest place. “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” It’s practical, almost social advice. It’s also a mirror, because I have been the guy angling for the good seat. Sometimes the seat was literal. More often it was the last word, the credit, the right to be right.
Then there’s the Pharisee and the tax collector in Luke 18. The Pharisee prays about himself and thanks God he isn’t like other people. Bill’s list could have come straight out of that prayer: “Thank God your sins are not my sins.” The tax collector stands far off, won’t lift his eyes, and says one sentence: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Jesus says he’s the one who went home justified.
What strikes me is what the tax collector doesn’t do. He doesn’t grovel or put on a show of his badness. He doesn’t do the thing Bill describes, racing around confessing everything and a good deal more and calling that humility. He tells the truth about himself and asks for mercy. That’s all. To me that’s the quiet place Bill talks about, midway between pride and guilt.
Jesus also put a child in the middle of a group of grown men arguing over who was the greatest (Matthew 18). A child isn’t humble because he thinks poorly of himself. He just isn’t managing an image yet. He needs help and he asks for it.
And then there’s the towel.
John 13 tells me something before Jesus washes anyone’s feet. He knew “that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God.” Then he got up, took off his outer garment, and knelt on the floor in front of the men who would deny him and scatter.
I used to think humility meant thinking less of myself. This passage says otherwise. Jesus knew exactly who he was, and because he knew it, he had nothing to protect. He could kneel. My pride and my shame both come from the opposite place, from not knowing who I am and trying desperately to prove it or hide it.
Peter, of course, gets it wrong twice. First he refuses: “You shall never wash my feet.” Then he overcorrects: “Not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” That’s me too: too proud to be served, then too eager to make a show of my need.
In Matthew 11 Jesus calls himself “gentle and lowly in heart” and says whoever learns from him will “find rest for your souls.” I think that rest is what Bill was reaching for when he wrote that his self-importance had become amusing. When I’m my right size there’s nothing left to defend.
Paul puts the whole thing in one line in Philippians 2: “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus,” who “emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.” Jesus doesn’t hand me a definition of humility. He gives me his own mind, and I keep learning that mind one small step at a time on the road Bill called the Highway to Humility.