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[mommydama]

I seem to have a really hard time finding the balance between God's mercy and His demands of righteousness. This part has never made any sense to me. When I was a Baptist child and adolescent, I knew my sins were forgiven, past, present, and future, and I didn't worry too much about all the admonitions to "be perfect", to "go and sin no more". I figured that was just something to strive for, God knew we couldn't REALLY do that, so I just sort of...ignored those instructions. Not that I wasn't trying to be "good", but I just didn't worry too much if I screwed up. God had forgiven me already, right? That is what he did on the cross, right? All my strivings to be good were just acts of thankfulness for that forgiveness.

Well, I could try all I wanted to ignore those admonitions, they wouldn't really go away. I spent a lot of my late teens and twenties just ignoring God in general, because He didn't make any sense to me, and there didn't seem to be anyone who knew anymore than I did. Then I discovered Orthodoxy...and authority and tradition and Truth. I suppose it is always true the pendulum must swing all the way in the other direction before it can land in the middle. And it has to keep swinging until it winds down and stops...in the middle. I just keep on a-swinging. For the past several years I have gone way too far to the other side in my thinking....the demands to be perfect and stop sinning weighing on me like anchors, dragging me down until I'm just stuck in the muck on the bottom. I can't do it. I can't be perfect. I'm totally incapable. Well, that must mean I'm not really a Christian, I'm a lost soul, I'm damned and there is nothing really I can do about it.

And then....thank God...the pendulum begins to swing again and before I go too far back the other way...I see the middle ground. I get to see it, for just a moment as I swing by. Yesterday, I saw if for that brief moment in Confession as the priest talked to me, counseled me, took me out of the muck and lifted me up. For just a moment. I'm holding onto the moment for all I'm worth today as I contemplate the Cross and what it means. I don't really know. I couldn't put it into words if someone had a gun to my head. But for a tiny second, I did know. I understood the balance between the demands for righteousness and the outpouring of mercy. I saw Love. I saw it for just a second.

Oh if I could only stay there.

Comments

[viggorlijah.livejournal.com]

APOSTLES, Dama, the apostles!

Out of all of humanity, there's been one person - a temple-raised woman who actually raised Jesus and lived with him, one in all of our time, who managed to make it through her life without sinning. And we know Jesus got angry and sad and so Mary must've too - I mean, she was human and theotokas. (ack spelling!)

But the Apostles. He chose them, lived with them, taught them, they saw the miracles, they witness the resurrection. They were loved in person by him.

And they screwed up. They doubted, they betrayed, they lied, they fought, they were jealous and petty and daft.

But they believed and loved, and because of that, they repented and tried again. I mean, it's pretty certain we're all gonna screw up again and again and again. It's incredibly pride to imagine that we can somehow through sheer force of will alone manage to be better than Mary, or even the Apostles and Saints. And their stories are so often about discipline and error and repentence.

But there's a sort of - you know how when you screw up with someone who you know will scream at you and yell, and then there's someone you know who will forgive you? And the fear is totally different. With the forgiving one, it's shame of disappointing them, but no hesitation in asking for forgiveness. With the other, it's all overshadowed by fear. There's nothing to be afraid of. You'll be forgiven as soon as you ask, so figure out why you don't (pride, fear, shame, guilt - oh the variety pack of human feelings) and work on that in prayer and stuff.

I asked my priest once if there was anything he couldn't forgive, as a priest, and he said yes - if someone did not repent. They admitted to what they were doing and said they were going to continue doing it. It didn't matter if you came every week for years, admitting the same fault and promising to try again, then failing and coming back. Far better than to never even try. Or to turn around and say it's not a sin, it's a personal choice.

(Note: not talking about gay rights here, from the phrasing. I have a whole bunch of complicated and mostly loving acceptance of healthy gay/straight etc relationships - note healthy sorry sidetracked!)

Dude, the apostles screwed up. So will we. The mercy that we get is - I mean, it's not just being forgiven as some sort of wipe slate clean, cross off your to-do list. It's turning to God and saying yup, I need you and letting the Holy Spirit in with mercy. Without that mercy, it's sort of a legalistic punishment/contrition thing. Mercy makes it - the way you can have a house with adults and children, but it's not a family without love. Mercy transforms the relationship.

Okay, I am blathering. You are so tough on yourself for not being eprfect and I completely get that. Just remember Jesus loved Mary and Martha.

[mommydama.livejournal.com]

Dale, you are all kinds of awesome. Have I ever told you that? Someday, I'm coming to Singapore just to sit at your table and watch you listen to you.

[mommydama.livejournal.com]

watch you AND listen to you. Ack.