Life of Pride
Forgiveness is a process that begins with self-examination. Self-realization, with leads to self-condemnation and confession to God, which leads to forgiveness of self. Only then is it possible to look outward and begin to repair the damage.
It's a hard truth to catch a glimpse of the foul nature of my own soul. I want to look away. To deny it. To cover it over and pretend I didn't see. The last thing I want to do is dig deeper into the disgusting mess I've made of me. But dig I must.
In my Thursday morning Bible study on Nehemiah, we found a revival underway in chapter 8. Ezra the priest read the Jews the law, and they were so overcome that they prostrated themselves and wept. Then Nehemiah commanded them all to stop weeping. They arose, and they danced and celebrated.
Like them, somewhere down underneath the ooze in my soul, my unwilling shovel has hit a subterranean stream of deep, sweet, living water. It bubbles up in a beautiful fountain. And the water's force sprays up and out, forcing a course through my filth.
I am desperately wicked, and I am loved. And so are you. How can we do anything but dance?
In the same way, before I can forgive someone else, I must understand the wrong done to me. So next, I examine what is almost more painful - the damage done to my tender, ignorant heart. Falsehoods believed because they were told to me by someone I trusted. Ways in which I was used as a tool instead of as a human being.
And then I realize the crucial fact.
We are all the same. We all hold the potential to be creatures of unimaginable light, but right now we are all dirty. Every one of us, Christian or non-Christian. And so I must love unconditionally, recognizing wrongs and then choosing to move past them in whatever manner is wisest for the situation at hand.
Barack Obama
promises change. America responds to his rhetoric; we understand the country is broken, and he hits on the sore points. We always have the same sore points, don't we? Whatever hurts us becomes the place at which we can be manipulated. Racism works, because those who suffer slurs for things they cannot change will feel great hurt. Broken public schools also work, because everyone responds on the gut level to threats to their children. Especially, in the latter case, if parents feel guilty for their own neglect of their kids.
The problem with America, really, is lack of faith - just like with individuals. The more godless this nation becomes, the more people want to fix things by themselves, with no reference to God. For many liberals, this means implementing government programs by whatever means they can justify. They believe the claim that we can actually create heaven on earth.
The problem is that every one of us humans is desperately sinful, and Christ is the center of all existence - yet none of us can change another person's heart. A system of law and government that is focused on glorifying God will therefore always be ordered to maintain the most individual freedom for its members. Only in a system with freedom of speech and free enterprise are people able to spread the Gospel at will. They are able to speak, and they have the resources to dedicate to this good work. At the same time, history has shown that any attempt to ordain a theocracy has only ended in the same power being co-opted by a new wave of humans with more evil motives. Whether for good or for ill, government has to keep its fingers out of its people's business, because eventually power-hungry humans will always turn it to ill.
Without Christ as the center, if people have been taught to believe that this world is all there is, and if they haven't been told the lessons of the twentieth century, they are open to any emotional appeal that promises them what they want. Problem is, no gift is free. Anything you don't work for that you get anyway is part of someone else's sacrifice.
I want to write today about the glories of grace. These last few weeks, I've been marveling through the most amazing, clear,
free sensation. At first I thought something was wrong because I didn't feel the pulling, tugging need to find something Important to do. Nothing was chasing me with feelings of guilt and telling me that I "must" do house chores or work on writing.
This is the truth. So far as salvation and God's love goes, I can do or not do absolutely anything! I am free! I need not fear making any mistakes, because my Lord will still love me.
And then, as the knowledge of my freedom fills mind and soul, my heart answers. It rises up in joy. So, in the absence of fear, my old abusive comrade, I am finding something startlingly new. Love. An honest, truthful desire from my heart to do those same things I thought I needed external compulsion to achieve.
I do good things because I can, not because I must. That is the power of grace.
A large group of old friends gathered together this last weekend for the sheer joy of fellowship. They dressed as Narnian characters and played "pin the tail on Rabadash." I, however, drove in to DC and spent two afternoons with an eclectic, diverse, mostly liberal group of folks at the DC Independent Film Festival. The contrast piques my interest, especially because I never really was one of the cape-wearing people I spent all my time with as a Lit major. I love my long-time friends, and I hope always to know them, but I think my personality is shifting. I find in myself much more of a journalist mentality - like my mom, a curiosity to know as much as possible about the way things work. A journalist and an engineer, because then I want to step in and get busy with my hands and mind to
make things happen.
In all effort there is profit, but the talk of the mouth tends only to penury.
There are too many books to read, too much of the world to see, taste, touch, and learn. All of it reflects God in some way.
This last weekend up until next, I am taking spare time to go to DC for the independent film festival that is going on the 6th to 16th. It is definitely illuminating. I am learning so much right now that I hardly have mental space to let one batch of ideas through before the next crowds in. Like drinking from a fire hose. Try to get it all, and you blow up.
No complaints. I am learning and growing, and my roots are holding.
Not much to say, really. I'm pretty busy walking around and picking up pieces of my exploded self. It's amazing how many bits of me were tossed in haphazardly before, just because. But even more amazing is how many are still good after the explosion, albeit a little battered and dusty from lying on the ground. I'm still kinda shaky on my feet, though.
