THE MERCIFUL GOD KNOWS
I confess to being self-critical beyond what’s healthy.
Self-examination is a good thing but a little of it, if it’s genuine,
goes a long way. Before long it becomes toxic and self-centered. Nothing
should take the place of God at the center of our thoughts—nothing!
Certainly not me—not for any reason.
My Ethel knew me well and when one more time I’d express a needless
offering of relentless self-criticism she’d eye me with a steady gaze
before telling me: “If you criticized me as much and as severely as you
do you someone should take you aside and rebuke you. You are no more
your Lord than you are mine. You need to stop it!”
That degree of self-rebuke isn’t humility! It might be
arrogance. Who do I think I am? Michael the Archangel? Am I so wonderful
that I to be above making mistakes? There’s a strange inconsistency
about me. From one angle I see myself as a worm, worth nothing and at
the same time I act as though I should be able to live as though free
from sin and stupidity? So, what am I? Worm or archangel?
Whether I like it or not I’m just another little human, sinful and vulnerable and in need of forgiveness and understanding.
If I see someone in need of a cup of cold water, in need of
clothing or food or a place of shelter—in need of what I can
supply—clearly I ought to offer it. What if it turns out that the one
who needs the cup of cold water is myself? What if I’m the naked, hungry
and lonely one?
I’m not wise enough or consistent enough to know how to
live this complicated life in a truly balanced way. I’ve no wish to go
to either extreme—a flinty righteousness on the one hand or a
weak-kneed-indulgence on the other. I don’t want to be Hugo’s policeman,
the stony Javier nor do I want to be the irresponsible [but more
likeable] Mr. Micawber of Dickens’ Copperfield. You must understand that
there’s a lot in me that can justly be criticized so you mustn’t see me
as simply humble. This ambivalence I experience is a real issue and not
just a topic for discussion; it is confessional as well as an element
of confusion.
But the problem is bigger than my own concerns. What if
it’s the case there is someone who loves me dearly and with whom I have a
great deal of influence and what if she sees me refusing to give myself
any leeway and thinks, “If that’s how life is to be lived then I must
be very much harder on myself than I have been”? What if I leave no room
for my blunders and wrongs—will she feel compelled to make no allowance
for hers? Will I make a prisoner of her by being a prisoner myself? Or
should I “giver her permission” to be merciful to a sinner by being
merciful to me—the sinner?
I confess I want to rest in GK Chesterton’s grand appeal to
God to help him to see more than the ordinary in himself. He asks God
to so sever him from himself that he can see the wonder that he is [his
bones, his blood, his eyes and his life] and the needy person that he
is. I’ll close with this.
Write me if you wish.
THE SWORD OF SURPRISE
SUNDER ME FROM MY BONES, O SWORD OF GOD
TILL THEY STAND STARK AND STRANGE AS DO THE TREES
THAT I WHOSE HEART GOES UP WITH THE SOARING WOODS
MAY MARVEL AS MUCH AT THESE.
SUNDER ME FROM MY BLOOD THAT IN THE DARK
I HEAR THAT ANCESTRAL RIVER RUN
LIKE BRANCHING BURIED FLOODS THAT FIND THE SEA
BUT NEVER SEE THE SUN.
GIVE ME MIRACULOUS EYES TO SEE MY EYES
THOSE ROLLING MIRRORS MADE ALIVE IN ME
TERRIBLE CRYSTAL MORE INCREDIBLE
THAN ALL THE THINGS THEY SEE.
SUNDER ME FROM MY SOUL, THAT I MAY SEE
THE SINS LIKE STREAMING WOUNDS,
THE LIFE’S BRAVE BEAT
TILL I SHALL SAVE MYSELF AS I WOULD SAVE
A STRANGER IN THE STREET.
©2004 Jim McGuiggan. All materials are free to be copied and used as long as money is not being made.
Many thanks to brother Ed Healy, for allowing me to post from his website, theabidingword.com.
