Thursday, July 6, 2017

I Don't Get Me!


I do not "get" it.

I honestly do not understand it - I do not clearly understand myself. Why do I do the stupid things that I do? Why don't I do all the awesome stuff I want to do?

I really want to do good (to do all the good I can, whenever I can, wherever I can), but I don't seem to be able to. All these horrible things that I can see in other people, these things that I rightly and self-righteously judge to be wrong, these are the things I turn around and hypocritically do myself? I just hate it when that happens! Don't you?

I'm a crook: a liar; a cheat; a killer; an abuser; an idolater; a world-class sinner. The dark-side that lies within me may shape what I do or do not do, but it is not who I am. It does not define me as a Child of Light. 

True goodness is not something hiding in a forgotten recess of my mind that I can drag up, or something lost that I can pull out from a dark corner of my soul. I can desire to be good all I want, try really really hard to be goody-goody, but I can not force it to happen by simply following rules, or reading self-help books, or by trying to do everything the Bible says. In my humanity, I don't do the good stuff that I think I should be doing or even that I want to be doing; I do the things that I damn-well know are evil - the horrible things that I don't want to be doing! Sometimes, it seems like I can't help myself. I pity myself. 

I forget to forgive myself - it is not I that do this bad crap, it is the Bad Dude hiding within me that does it. It is a rule-of-thumb that I have seen, the harder I try to make myself be a good person, the worse of a person I am! Blindly following the rules does not help me nearly as much as it did when I was a child.

We love Law and Order: God's Law; the laws of nature; the laws of man. But, all these laws are at war with each other within my organs - my pituitary gland has a running-battle with my frontal lobe. I am a POW of my own involuntary hormones. You should pity me as much I pity myself, for I am just a helpless victim here. Who can possibly save me from this hell?



Paul is of course being provocatively sarcastic and hyperbolically snarky in his letter to the house-churches in Rome (Rom. 7:15-25a). "If only there was someone we could turn to for help when we realize can't we can't do it by ourselves..."  

Oh, wait, there is!


Christ the King Sunday

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