For a long time, I've slaved over the idea of forgiveness. Specifically, I've wondered to myself if God could truly forgive even me. It's odd, because intellectually I know that nothing I've consciously done in my past is unforgivable, especially in light of a fact that is a cornerstone of my faith: that God will forgive all those who repent, no matter how heinous the sins in question appear in human eyes. Yet, for years I've subconsciously beaten down on myself with feelings I long ago identified as guilt.
If I'm being completely honest with myself, though, I realize the feeling from which I'm suffering isn't that at all. It's not something from my past for which I can't forgive myself. It has more to do with internal justification. Part of me is aware that the things often happening aren't fair (speaking logically and statistically), and yet my recognition of how juvenile it is for me to expect them to be so forces me to suppress my frustration, knowing full well that giving vent to those negative feelings will accomplish nothing.
As a side note, I don't think that's wrong. Self-control is an important part of spiritual maturity, so whining and stewing about things not going my way would be counterproductive. It's proven to be so for me in the past.
With that in mind, though, it's lately been my course to be proactive in this. My only partial acceptance of the truth has deceived me into believing that there's something I'm still doing completely wrong, and I'm just not seeing it. With that mindset, I try to rationalize the idea that all I have to do is figure out what that something is, change it, and allow that to fix everything. Reward for the good, punishment for the bad.
The snag, of course, is that if I find something and fix it, yet the conditions don't change, as is quite often the case, I become more confused as to why my solution didn't work, when logically it should have.
The long in short of all of this is that somewhere along the line I developed a sort of punishment complex. My mentality has been one of deserving all the misfortune and heaviness of heart I've had; a thought process that serves to explain to myself the reason for those things. I guess the notion is that my past mistakes justify all the present bad things, and so that, in theory, empowers me to preempt future pain by fixing poor behaviors now.
The obvious problem with this theory is that it leaves no room for grace, nor for God to do His work. It attempts to put me in control of my life, when in reality some things are simply beyond my control and comprehension. Such is the case with everyone.
I'm still working through this one. Because while I am intellectually aware that sometimes the negative conditions can't be solved by my actions, I'm still struggling to internalize and truly believe that fact. Something subconscious, like an instinct, keeps trying to justify; keeps looking for the solution.
This ties back to my need to trust that God has all of this under control. It's that trust that He requires as an offering from me, as a true mark of my faith.
Hey Sean, have you read in the book of Ecclesiastes? It sounds familiar to me as something you might have talked about, but I might be confusing it with Job.
ReplyDeleteWhat you're talking about reminds me of the contrast between Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. The former has those wise principles and states they will generally lead to blessing and satisfaction... while the latter covers the other side of misfortune and injustice, which are out of our control and remind us this version of our world is only a temporary home.
I've read through Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, as well as the first and last few chapters of Job. The way I understood Proverbs was as general guidelines, the practiced use of which would generate more success overall, but not necessarily act as guaranteed keys to success in all of our endeavors.
DeleteI've actually read Ecclesiates more than once, because it really hit home for me, especially given my history of existential thought.
The things that spring to mind in light of everything actually do come from Job, who by God's own admission was a righteous man, and yet was struck with misfortunes extreme by all accounts. I certainly wouldn't compare myself to Job in either of those respects, but it is the classic example of life not being "fair," per the fallen nature of our world.