Day one
Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, on whom our faith depends from start to finish. (Hebrews 12: 1-2)
I believe one of the most hurtful things someone can say to you is: "I wish I had never met you." Similarly, one of the saddest things someone can say to themselves is: "I wish I had never been born." Hurtful because it says that your very existence in their lives has had an effect they wish neither to revel in or to learn from. Your impact has been detrimental to the extent that it would rather be forgotten. Sad because it implies you believe your own impact and existence is detrimental to the point of irrelevance and oblivion. At the end of L'Etranger the protagonist, Mersault comes to the conclusion that in the very last minutes of his life he can still impact upon the lives of those around him, that he can know he - for even a brief moment - affected the life of another. He wants those people to remember him and perhaps learn from the experience of seeing him.
I veer between wishing I had never done the things I have, consigning the last few years to oblivion. And hoping that remembering, and learning from, my past actions will result in something positive. The fact is that, like the phrases above, I have done these things. I have "met me", in the contemporary tendency of ascribing stages of life as different versions of yourself. I am like totally a different girl to the one who went into the house, gushes the latest Big Brother contestant to be evicted.
The significance of past actions can be easily identified: a poor reputation, an overwhelming sense of guilt, a risk of disgusting anyone I might hope to form a real relationship with in the future, a detached understanding of the nature of sex. But there are other significances that will probably emerge over time.
The most frightening one for me is whether my continual and depraved hypocrisy - while continuing to attend church and pray - has disgusted God to the extent that He can't love me. Is this fear the obstacle to truly being a Christian? A faith that can move mountains can also help a guilty soul feel loved. Surely a Christian, in order to be such, must believe that he or she is loved by God? On good days I do. On dark days He is so disappointed in me that I am loved through a veil of His tears, and it is my sin that has made Him weep. What kind of horrible person can do that to someone they try so hard to love?
The title of this blog is somewhat misleading. While it is a reference to the Samaritan woman Jesus met at the well, it implies that her sin is like mine. Mine is worse because I have never been in love with anyone I've slept with. I have not been in a relationship and I have not committed myself in other, more cerebral and admirable ways. Occasionally I have walked away and hoped that maybe that person might like me enough to follow, but they haven't, whether because they were aware that I didn't particularly like them or because they didn't particularly like me, or a combination of both. Ironically my actions that were fuelled by a lack of self-esteem have too often crushed my ego still further. This sin will remain with me for as long as I do not make a very real effort to change and to live a life with Jesus, accountable to Him.
This is Day One. I have had a bath and I sit with a cup of tea in a nightdress that takes Victorian fashion sense to heart. I look wholesome, I feel afraid. This will not be easy as, several decades into my life, I realise that being a Christian means genuinely trusting in God.
This is the most destructive of my personal demons (there are plenty more besides). Help me Lord Jesus, please.
I believe one of the most hurtful things someone can say to you is: "I wish I had never met you." Similarly, one of the saddest things someone can say to themselves is: "I wish I had never been born." Hurtful because it says that your very existence in their lives has had an effect they wish neither to revel in or to learn from. Your impact has been detrimental to the extent that it would rather be forgotten. Sad because it implies you believe your own impact and existence is detrimental to the point of irrelevance and oblivion. At the end of L'Etranger the protagonist, Mersault comes to the conclusion that in the very last minutes of his life he can still impact upon the lives of those around him, that he can know he - for even a brief moment - affected the life of another. He wants those people to remember him and perhaps learn from the experience of seeing him.
I veer between wishing I had never done the things I have, consigning the last few years to oblivion. And hoping that remembering, and learning from, my past actions will result in something positive. The fact is that, like the phrases above, I have done these things. I have "met me", in the contemporary tendency of ascribing stages of life as different versions of yourself. I am like totally a different girl to the one who went into the house, gushes the latest Big Brother contestant to be evicted.
The significance of past actions can be easily identified: a poor reputation, an overwhelming sense of guilt, a risk of disgusting anyone I might hope to form a real relationship with in the future, a detached understanding of the nature of sex. But there are other significances that will probably emerge over time.
The most frightening one for me is whether my continual and depraved hypocrisy - while continuing to attend church and pray - has disgusted God to the extent that He can't love me. Is this fear the obstacle to truly being a Christian? A faith that can move mountains can also help a guilty soul feel loved. Surely a Christian, in order to be such, must believe that he or she is loved by God? On good days I do. On dark days He is so disappointed in me that I am loved through a veil of His tears, and it is my sin that has made Him weep. What kind of horrible person can do that to someone they try so hard to love?
The title of this blog is somewhat misleading. While it is a reference to the Samaritan woman Jesus met at the well, it implies that her sin is like mine. Mine is worse because I have never been in love with anyone I've slept with. I have not been in a relationship and I have not committed myself in other, more cerebral and admirable ways. Occasionally I have walked away and hoped that maybe that person might like me enough to follow, but they haven't, whether because they were aware that I didn't particularly like them or because they didn't particularly like me, or a combination of both. Ironically my actions that were fuelled by a lack of self-esteem have too often crushed my ego still further. This sin will remain with me for as long as I do not make a very real effort to change and to live a life with Jesus, accountable to Him.
This is Day One. I have had a bath and I sit with a cup of tea in a nightdress that takes Victorian fashion sense to heart. I look wholesome, I feel afraid. This will not be easy as, several decades into my life, I realise that being a Christian means genuinely trusting in God.
This is the most destructive of my personal demons (there are plenty more besides). Help me Lord Jesus, please.
posted by from sychar to eternity at 23:45
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