It's liable to get dark in here again, but still a Light shines in my darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. Nonetheless, you may want to stop reading now. ("I'd turn back if I were you!") If I were stronger, I wouldn't give you a choice in the matter, and would just keep the next couple of posts to myself.
BTW, blog comments are moderated; mrs. tg, if you want to leave a comment, know that I won't post it unless you tell me to.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The cult of veniality
"None of our sins are small or of little account. To belittle our sins is to belittle ourselves, to belittle who it is that God creates and calls us to be. To belittle our sins is to belittle their forgiveness, to belittle the love of the Father who welcomes us home." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
This is as complete, succinct, and eloquent a summary of this idea as I've yet encountered. It has been some time since I could engage in this particular self-deception with regard to the worst moments of my past; there's just no denying the evil of them. But it seems to me that we all - myself certainly included - engage in this sort of thinking to excuse the "little things" we'd rather not give up, that we rationalize are "not really hurting anyone (wink)." Rather than an invitation to self-hatred, a Spirit-led awareness of our sinfulness calls us to stop settling for our puny wants, and to strive toward all that God, in his infinite love, dreams for each one of us. More from Fr. Neuhaus:
" . . . Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote, 'The line between good and evil runs through every human heart.' We would draw the line between ourselves and the really big-time sinners. For them the cross may be necessary. For us a forgiving wink from an understanding Deity will set things to right. But the 'big time' of sinning is in every human heart. We make small our selves when we make small our sins. Fearing the judgment of great evil, we shrink from the call to great good."
It seems to me that therein may lie our chief sin, or at least, our great tragedy.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Resolution
I'm amazed at how a crisis can seem interminable, yet be resolved just a couple days after it has begun. I feel as if I've spent three days in the tomb, and am now emerging to a new day . . .
Adrift, except
Fortunately, it's the right "except."
From the outset, I've tried to handle this the right way, and yet the echoes of the past still reverberate. So despite my efforts, she doesn't trust me. I understand; our distant past is strewn with good reasons why she shouldn't. I just thought we'd grown beyond that, and I've been open with her so that she could see this, have made careful choices not to compromise our relationship. To no avail.
She's watching me, looking for the smallest sign that she's right, that I'm a threat to her. She withholds herself from me, emotionally; the physical part doesn't even matter. Of course I'm withdrawing, too. I am hurt. As always, she gives herself over to her t.v. watching schedule at night. She doesn't join me in bed until after I am asleep, except now I'm relieved that she doesn't. Why would I want to lie there with someone who doesn't trust me? It isn't that I'd rather be wrapped up in someone else. It's just that, if I'm not trusted, I'd rather be alone.
In the past, I'd have sought solace and understanding and intimacy in the friendship she fears. But I am no longer a slave to or participant in that cycle, and I will not fulfill her prophecy. I know that she cannot help how she feels, and that somehow I must help how I respond to her, for I love her deeply.
I'd feel isolated, emotionally, if it weren't for my Lord, who I know is always with me.
From the outset, I've tried to handle this the right way, and yet the echoes of the past still reverberate. So despite my efforts, she doesn't trust me. I understand; our distant past is strewn with good reasons why she shouldn't. I just thought we'd grown beyond that, and I've been open with her so that she could see this, have made careful choices not to compromise our relationship. To no avail.
She's watching me, looking for the smallest sign that she's right, that I'm a threat to her. She withholds herself from me, emotionally; the physical part doesn't even matter. Of course I'm withdrawing, too. I am hurt. As always, she gives herself over to her t.v. watching schedule at night. She doesn't join me in bed until after I am asleep, except now I'm relieved that she doesn't. Why would I want to lie there with someone who doesn't trust me? It isn't that I'd rather be wrapped up in someone else. It's just that, if I'm not trusted, I'd rather be alone.
In the past, I'd have sought solace and understanding and intimacy in the friendship she fears. But I am no longer a slave to or participant in that cycle, and I will not fulfill her prophecy. I know that she cannot help how she feels, and that somehow I must help how I respond to her, for I love her deeply.
I'd feel isolated, emotionally, if it weren't for my Lord, who I know is always with me.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Regret sucks
I don't think there's been a single time in my life that I've truly regretted, in the long run, denying myself. Only indulging myself, and that regret lasts a very long time.
When we reunited 30 years ago after a post-high-school hiatus in our relationship, there were primarily two things that mattered most to me, though I was unaware of both of them. One I shall not share in this forum, or at least in this post. The second was being "better than," and I didn't understand that about myself at all. I'm sure this is only a small part of where this superiority/inferiority complex came from (it's always both, btw), but since I was never good enough for my dad - not an athlete, too wimpy - being the smartest became my downfall. I had to be the quickest wit, get in the last word, win the argument. I was pretty competitive, too.
My poor wife was the perfect foil in this for me. She met my first need, but was particularly suited to my second, since barring some tragedy I'll always be the "more intelligent" of us. I was still very emotionally needy, too, and when I'd connect with someone else - especially a woman - on an intellectual or emotional level that my wife wasn't equipped to meet, as far as I was concerned it was her problem to deal with. I indulged my intellectual and emotional "needs" and left her to deal with it on her own or, worse, put her down so that I could feel validated.
The thing is, she needed affirmation, too, and she obviously wasn't getting it from me. So of course, she found it where she could, and of course, that became a vicious cycle for us.
I hoped that we were beyond that now, but I also know that our greatest fear is of the thing that brought out the worst in ourselves. I guess no number of years (decades) of finally loving her as I should will ever erase the shadows of my former selfish indulgence.
When we reunited 30 years ago after a post-high-school hiatus in our relationship, there were primarily two things that mattered most to me, though I was unaware of both of them. One I shall not share in this forum, or at least in this post. The second was being "better than," and I didn't understand that about myself at all. I'm sure this is only a small part of where this superiority/inferiority complex came from (it's always both, btw), but since I was never good enough for my dad - not an athlete, too wimpy - being the smartest became my downfall. I had to be the quickest wit, get in the last word, win the argument. I was pretty competitive, too.
My poor wife was the perfect foil in this for me. She met my first need, but was particularly suited to my second, since barring some tragedy I'll always be the "more intelligent" of us. I was still very emotionally needy, too, and when I'd connect with someone else - especially a woman - on an intellectual or emotional level that my wife wasn't equipped to meet, as far as I was concerned it was her problem to deal with. I indulged my intellectual and emotional "needs" and left her to deal with it on her own or, worse, put her down so that I could feel validated.
The thing is, she needed affirmation, too, and she obviously wasn't getting it from me. So of course, she found it where she could, and of course, that became a vicious cycle for us.
I hoped that we were beyond that now, but I also know that our greatest fear is of the thing that brought out the worst in ourselves. I guess no number of years (decades) of finally loving her as I should will ever erase the shadows of my former selfish indulgence.
Friday, January 08, 2010
Faith in crisis
I seem to be headed in a better direction now, but here's where I was at 7 Friday morning:
For nearly twenty-five years (next month) - half my life; zero to fifty in the blink of an eye! - I've thrived when Christ was at the center of my focus, and failed miserably otherwise. And I mean utterly failed, in disgusting, repulsive and completely unacceptable ways that, if life were fair, should have left me relegated to society's outcasts.
I've long understood that the only way I've avoided that fate while still squarely facing the consequences of my actions - indeed, the only way I've even survived - is through the love and mercy of Christ, poured out through those whose faith filled in for my failure/inability to live my own. When focused on his love and mercy, always and primarily present in my life through others, I've been able to do what I needed to receive healing and to contribute to the healing of those around me. I've been more able to live as I ought, and to have perspective on the failings of my past so as to feel like a forgiven and healed son rather than a worm. In short, I am able to live with myself, and thereby not do further hurt to those who have loved me.
So if I conclude that these good people are wrong about Christ, then I'm unable to trust in all that I have professed and experienced of God's love as poured out in Jesus Christ. Oh, and if they're wrong about him, then since their outpouring of love and mercy is rooted in their faith, they must be wrong about me, too. I must conclude that I am in fact a worm rather than a precious son. In that case, I am in real trouble.
This is why this is all so crucial for me and those I love, why I must believe in Christ sufficiently to return my focus to him.
For nearly twenty-five years (next month) - half my life; zero to fifty in the blink of an eye! - I've thrived when Christ was at the center of my focus, and failed miserably otherwise. And I mean utterly failed, in disgusting, repulsive and completely unacceptable ways that, if life were fair, should have left me relegated to society's outcasts.
I've long understood that the only way I've avoided that fate while still squarely facing the consequences of my actions - indeed, the only way I've even survived - is through the love and mercy of Christ, poured out through those whose faith filled in for my failure/inability to live my own. When focused on his love and mercy, always and primarily present in my life through others, I've been able to do what I needed to receive healing and to contribute to the healing of those around me. I've been more able to live as I ought, and to have perspective on the failings of my past so as to feel like a forgiven and healed son rather than a worm. In short, I am able to live with myself, and thereby not do further hurt to those who have loved me.
So if I conclude that these good people are wrong about Christ, then I'm unable to trust in all that I have professed and experienced of God's love as poured out in Jesus Christ. Oh, and if they're wrong about him, then since their outpouring of love and mercy is rooted in their faith, they must be wrong about me, too. I must conclude that I am in fact a worm rather than a precious son. In that case, I am in real trouble.
This is why this is all so crucial for me and those I love, why I must believe in Christ sufficiently to return my focus to him.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Drifting
When I grabbed Br. Guy Consolmagno's book, God's Mechanics: How Scientists and Engineers Make Sense of Religion, from the parish library, I figured it would be right up my alley. It's been a long time since I struggled with my faith, since having a profound conversion experience - a personal encounter with Jesus Christ through the work of the Holy Spirit - in my mid-twenties, and seeing as I'm pretty much a fellow techie, I figured this book would help me understand how these aspects of my life work together for me.
Now I wish I'd never picked it up. I find myself disagreeing with Br. Guy at nearly every turn, being tripped up by his assumptions. In fairness, he's quick to admit to them himself. That doesn't keep them from becoming a stumbling block for me.
If Jesus was fully human, he must have experienced times in his life like this. If he's God, he's going to have to get me through this one. I haven't doubted the truth of my beliefs in a long time - it has all seemed to fit together so well. And so much of my life revolves around my faith that I'm pretty uncomfortable with the implications of my newfound doubt.
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