"Blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered" (Psalm 32:1)
So says the psalmist, small comfort to the one wallowing in sin. The poetry speaks for itself, damned is the unforgiven; woe to the naked sinner!
Augustine Confession rings true, "Now behold, let my heart tell You what it sought there: that I should be gratuitously evil, not being tempted with anything but evil itself. It was foul, and I loved it." Like a pig in a sty, willingly rolling in filth for the immediate self-pleasure such activities bring.
Desperately, rabidly, I repeat the litany, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner..." but the mumbling whispers fail to reach up even to my own ears, never mind the ears of some enthroned deity. Like the pilgrim in Bunyan's book, I crawl burdened towards the cross, unlike him I refuse to leave that burden there, dreading the thought of revealing myself to walk upright into some foreign kingdom.
Satan's claim is sure, there is no escape from that, his chains are forged in the fires of my own sin. But, as I struggle to avoid that hideous cross, the One upon it slowly fixes me in his gaze, "I have called you by name, you are Mine."
I am my own, I am free, I am lord. Yet even in my blinded stupor I can see the hollowness of those claims as chain after chain raps around me, binding me to a terrible master, bonds that are of my own making.
Why would he want me, that one on the cross, and what authority has he to make such a claim? Unfortunately the way he spoke leaves no room to doubt his authority.
It makes no sense, what good am I? I am useless - bound as I am hand and foot - incapable of anything good or productive. I scream up at him, "Leave me alone, you don't want me, nobody does." The self-loathing that has long been my comfort and goad rises up; my simultaneous shield and weapon.
"Your sins are forgiven", says he.
"You know I'll do it again", I retort.
"Your sins are forgiven."
That's it. Silence, nothing happens, nothing changes. I continue on, clutching the chains that suddenly feel loose upon my body. Weary and burdened I continue on with that inescapably harsh judgement ringing in my ears, "Your sins are forgiven".
On I go loving my sin, while paradoxically begging for release, and every now and then, my litany of "....have mercy on me a sinner..." is subtly interrupted by a voice saying, "Your sins are forgiven".
No comments:
Post a Comment