Once again we come to the end of the week. Tomorrow, being Sunday, will be our regular Sabbath from this daily enterprise. Then, for the next week, Greg Steele will be writing the daily devotional thoughts and I will be forwarding them on to you. Greg has kindly consented to give me a break so that I can prepare for the board meeting next week, and rethink exactly how I want to continue with the devotional thought project. I think that it has some value. I know that some of you do, too, but also probably a few of you wish I would spend my time doing something else. I’m open to suggestions. I do think that maintaining a spiritual focus in our work is job one.
Now today’s thoughts.
To My Mother
by Wendell Berry
I was your rebellious son,
do you remember? Sometimes
I wonder if you do remember,
so complete has your forgiveness been.
So complete has your forgiveness been
I wonder sometimes if it did not
precede my wrong, and I erred,
safe found, within your love,
prepared ahead of me, the way home,
or my bed at night, so that almost
I should forgive you, who perhaps
foresaw the worst that I might do,
causing me to smile now, looking back,
to see how paltry was my worst,
compared to your forgiveness of it
already given. And this, then,
is the vision of that Heaven of which
we have heard, where those who love
each other have forgiven each other,
where, for that, the leaves are green,
the light a music in the air,
and all is unentangled,
and all is undismayed.
An imaginary dialogue
(You’ll have to guess who the speakers are)
Forgive.
OK, I will.
Forgive. Forgive.
Why should I? I already did.
I know; do it anyway.
But they’re not even saying that they’re sorry!
Do you confess everything to me?
. . .
I guess that would be a “no.” Forgive.
OK.
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
Isn’t this solution just a bit simplistic?
It appears to be working in our relationship.
. . . Sometimes I just don’t know how to answer you.
Try saying, “Yes.”
Yes.
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
This has got to stop; they’re not repenting.
So how are you coming along with your . . .
OK, OK, let’s not go there. I’ll try . . .
Do you want me to try, or to forgive?
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
OK, I get that this is the seventy times seven thing, but
do you not see what this is doing to me?
Yes, I do.
But this is abusive.
It is my job to deal with impenitent abuse, not yours;
do you think you can cure abuse with abuse?
But this is killing me.
Do you really want to go there? It has already killed me.
You’re sounding pretty healthy now.
I will forgive the sarcasm and note that perhaps my good health
is connected to my ability to forgive.
It’s just that you don’t sound too broken up to me.
Every time a soul rebels against my Father it breaks my heart.
I understand.
I don’t mean this in a mean way, but there is no way
that you ever have, that you ever will understand
the depth or breadth or intensity of the pain in
the heart of God.
I’m sorry. It’s just that this is so painful.
Growth can be painful.
What does that mean?
Forgiveness is one of the disciplines that shapes
your character with the virtue of forgiving,
And shapes you into an image of me.
I will do what I can.
And I will help.
------
Jesus, forgive me for putting my words into your mouth,
but for millennia, my sisters and brothers have done this;
imagining what you might say, thinking about how
the conversation would go.
We search for answers knowing that you are the Truth.
May we know you well enough to speak the truth, to
speak a word of peace, on your behalf.
May that word of peace always imitate
Your grace and your forgiveness.
Show grace, discover peace.
Ron
