Now I Understand ...

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I wondered why Judas’ suicide was the greater sin. This quote from St. Catherine of Sienna explained why. Judas displeased God more by his suicide than his betrayal of Jesus because he judged his misery (sin) to be greater than God’s mercy.  

St. Catherine also writes that despair is one of the Devil’s chief weapons, worry being the other. No sin is too great for God’s mercy, except our own false judgment.

None of my mistakes matter once I repent and receive (accept) God’s forgiveness. Yet, I still struggle to forgive myself. After the No Fishing lesson, I’ve gotten better, but I still play the reruns now and then. Why?

I’m worried if I forget about those sins, I’ll repeat them. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

I don't need to wallow in my misery (too often of my own creation). First, I need to remember the situation will not last. Second, changing my focus from myself to others pulls me from my self-absorption. Third, I should not be too stubborn to ask for help.

Most of the time, my misery stems from expecting more of myself than others do, especially my husband. If I ask, he often has a better plan or his willing to help. But my stiff-necked, stubborn, martyr persona rejects the idea, thinking he should know I need help. Sounds a lot like what St. Catherine wrote about, loving my misery more than anyone’s help.

Her words are like a two-by-four right between the eyes.

The next time I want to wallow in any misery, be it over past mistakes or my misguided sense of responsibility, I’ll remember this little gem.

Thank you, Lord, for pointing out another of my misunderstandings and mistakes. Never let me wallow in my misery, rejecting your mercy. Amen.

 

 

Difficult, But Worth the Effort

Photo by SplitShire from Pixabay

A recent conversation with a friend was echoed in my morning devotions. In Living Faith Terri Mefik wrote, “I may want to dictate to others how people should think or behave but if I put the relationship above forcing my will on others, I inevitably experience greater peace and joy.”

Life is much easier when I’m not worrying about someone else’s sin.

It isn’t that I am so good-natured that I’m never tempted to judge. My own drama keeps me too busy to worry about someone else’s behavior. I don’t have the energy or the desire to add any more. Besides, only God knows what is in the heart of another.

I have been harshly judged myself without my judges knowing the whole truth and I don’t want to do that to someone else. Their behavior (unless criminal), is between them and God. He is their final judge and the one they will have to answer to someday, just like I will.

If I want the benefit of the doubt, shouldn’t I give it to others as well?

Richard Rohr in his meditation on the Loving Gaze took this idea a step further. “The Christ in me sees the Christ in you.”

Christ in everyone.

Those words brought up a powerful image from my past.  

After seven years of domestic abuse and an ugly divorce, I needed therapy. A psychiatrist gave me the tools to deal with the nightmares and panic attacks, and he encouraged me to forgive. He emphasized that without forgiving the violence, the hatred and anger would destroy the rest of my life.

A friend recommended a Christian counselor specializing in abuse victims.

At the end of a long session, the counselor asked me to visualize Jesus on the cross. After a moment she asked me if He had come down and was he holding me?

What I saw was far more powerful.

My ex-husband stood behind the cross. As I watched, Jesus transposed his face over my ex-husband’s.

In that instant, I forgave and let all the anger and hate go. My world changed. Gone were the panic attacks and nightmares. The heavy weight I carried for so many years lifted. Colors were brighter, my steps lighter. I found peace.

That powerful moment taught me to look at others differently, to offer the benefit of the doubt first and to forgive instead of judging and holding a grudge. The Christ in me now sees the Christ in others.

Thank you, Lord, for that powerful message. It changed my life.

 

It Made Me Angry - Justifed or Not?

My husband and I watched the movie, The Wind That Shakes the Barley, the story of two Irish brothers working for the IRA during the Irish War of Independence in the 1920s. The brutality of the period  made me angry.

After the film ended, I imagined suitable punishments for those who committed such horrendous injustices and senseless cruelty.

It was hours before I could let the anger go.

Later, after some thought, I realized the movie sparked flashbacks of the abuse I suffered from my ex-husband. I no longer have panic attacks, nightmares, or curl up in a ball in a corner, but the anger still simmers. I vowed to never, never let anyone abuse me or my kids again. Seeing brutality executed on others causes the same knee-jerk anger as if it was being done to me or a loved one.

Part of that is justified. After all, Jesus exhibited righteous anger when he turned over the money changer's tables. However, I discovered my error during my morning meditation and scripture reading.

Acts 16: 33: “These things I have spoken to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you shall have distress: but have confidence, I have overcome the world.”

Mary Marrocco in, Living Faith, added this: “He conquered the world by going toward it, not running away from it; by receiving all the violence, cruelty, and hypocrisy the world can spit out and not giving it back. Rather, he gives back love, peace, and forgiveness. Truly, this is the way our world is conquered.”

My fault lay in desiring revenge instead of justice.

This reminded me of another story.

A man stole blankets from a missionary hostel in China. When the theft was discovered, the woman proprietress went about her daily chores unfazed, even cheerful.

One patron, a Chinese man, asked her, “Are you not angry that the man stole your blankets?”

She shrugged. “He must need them more than we do. Besides, God will provide all we need, even more blankets.”

The man, astounded by her faith, converted to Christianity and became a minister.

God sees everything, and one day the perpetrators of hate and violence will stand before Him and answer for their sins. The judge in me rejoices at that thought, but the penitent wants God to forgive me of all my wrongdoing.

God forgives all sin, and we should also forgive the sinner, but that doesn't mean they, or us, should escape the consequences of our actions. According to our laws, prison is the consequence for harming someone else.

The next time my anger rises, I'll seek prayer first, trusting God will guide me as to when to take a stand, when to put up a fight, and when to stay on my knees. Only then do I have a chance for peace in this broken and brutal world.

There Ought to Be a Law

There probably is. There have been laws, society norms, and traditions dictating behavior from the first moment of human existence, and there have always been those who refused to follow the rules as indicated by the long list of criminals stretching back to Cain and Abel.

However, laws do give people the authority to remove offenders from their communities and eliminate some threats to their lives and property.

Still, people want more laws. They want to regulate every aspect of human behavior, defining speech, diets, shopping, what we can and cannot own, along with the bigger laws against theft and murder.  If a group thinks a behavior is wrong, they want a law. If another group opposes their agenda, they want a counter law. 

This even goes further. People rail against God for not stopping wars, famines, pestilences, natural disasters and the list goes on. They want him to act on our whims, our desires, our need for control, except when it comes to our personal behavior. Then we reject his laws because they interfere with our freedom of choice. What a bunch of hypocrites we are. 

We have all heard the quote, “There are over ten billion laws enacted to enforce the Ten Commandments,” and we still add more every day. 

A morning show host interviewed a woman campaigning for laws regulating what people can eat. She wanted a law making it illegal for people designated as overweight to purchase items not approved by her. I am not kidding.

The talk show host asked, “So how would you regulate this law? Put a set of scales at every checkout, and if it said you were overweight, the checker would remove the unlawful food from your cart?”

She replied, “Yes, that’s exactly what should happen, or have a card from your doctor dictating what food you can have and how much.”

“Isn’t that discrimination?”

“No, absolutely not. It’s for their benefit.”

“I see. So you’re better at determining what others need than they are.”

“Absolutely.”

Really? And where would this end?

Back to our opinion of what God should control. We too often think he should be like us, forcing everyone to act as we think is best. Thank goodness he isn’t like us.

This reminds me of a story about a monk who had a fruit tree. Concerned the weather wasn’t conducive to nurture his tree, he asked God to make it rain. When he deemed there had been enough, he asked for sunshine. After that, a touch of frost to strengthen it. Then more sunshine and so on. God complied.

Instead of thriving, his tree shriveled and appeared to be dying. He looked at the tree his fellow monk had planted, and it flourished with an abundance of sweet fruit.

“Why is your tree is doing so well and mine is dying? I asked God to send rain, sunshine, and frost.”

The other monk shrugged. “I asked God to send whatever it needed to be healthy, and left it up to him to decide how much and when.”

Then the first monk understood. He had no idea what the tree needed to thrive, but its Creator did.

The same with us. We meddle into things we should leave in God’s hands, and then ask God why he allowed such things to happen. Even science has acknowledged their attempts to regulate wildlife and habitat has often resulted in a horrific imbalance leading to more destruction. Humans trying to play God without his omniscience.  (Of course, we need to be good stewards, but there is a difference between being a good steward and trying to recreate what God has already created.)

What if we obeyed God’s commandments, and left the rest up to him? I imagine the world would be a lot different than it is now. 

“Jesus did not come to change the mind of God about humanity. He came to change the mind of humanity about God.” Fr. Richard Rohr, Immortal Diamond: The Search for Our True Self