From Revelations 22:17
Hey h,
I read your firebrand approach to the problem of sin with
a lot of laughter. I know it is a grim subject but what a catholic soul you
still have. Now, do not attack me yet. I do not know enough of catholic
doctrine to have an opinion fully formed. The part of your Catholicism I am
referring to is that friend of yours, at the seminary college, who answered
your doubts about sin and consequence with that immortal line: “hell is real
and no thinking and wishing about it will make it less so.” All right then.
Of course we have already made the mistake that precludes
us from lofty sermons back and forth. We have told each other some startling
truths about flaws and quirks and events and many, many sins. The mudslinging
can commence or we can speak in love and kindness. I came with two guns, ye
rascal, pick the latter or former and I am ready.
I am more concerned about the effect than the act right
now. I could be humming along with life and then, suddenly, fall into a ditch. Am
I okay to just get up and keep walking? Is it all still a ragamuffin grace? Did
I sprain something? Is there a limp in my steps henceforth? Did I miss the bus?
Will I be the sinner who never rises out of what the apostle called the milk of
“forgiveness of sins”? I seem incapable of putting a foot right in any
direction. I seem unlike Him. I feel lost.
A big part of this is pride, of course. I did not think I
could fall. I think that I am immune from the petty longings of being human. I am
not. I am the same old me just going in a new direction. I am thirsty and
hungry for life. My hunger is incredible. It cannot be filled by doing good
work or reaching material equilibrium. Writing does not cure it nor does
getting what I want. I suspect that if I write down all the things I think will
make me happy and chase them for a year, and get them in that year, I would
still be hungry and I would still long for water. My long list of sins and
their aftermath have already shown me the folly of getting what I want. It is
never enough. God promises the answer. He says this adventure can fill me up. He
diagnosed it right so I am able to trust that He knows the answer. Then, of
course, He tells me the medicine; to come in to Zion and be filled up with a
new life. Something eternal and sure and full to the brim with the strange taste
of un-hunger and un-thirst…
Well, brother, it is Friday. I got drunk once and swore
never again. Perhaps it is time we got drunk on something else.