Prodigal Christ

Was Christ the Prodigal Son?

Yeah, I know. It's kind of maybe an insane thought! Yet, it came to me recently and I'm chewing it over even now.

I am fond of saying: For a man who said He didn't talk about Himself, Jesus certainly talked a lot about Himself.

I have often told people that the Bible is about Jesus from beginning to end. Sometimes, He is, perhaps, hidden in places where we have to really look to find Him. He often would steal away, hiding himself, so to speak. Then, his disciples, or, perhaps, wanna-be disciples, would come looking for Him. He usually wanted to be alone with His Father, but, for purposes of my allegory, I'll boil it down to the fact that He was hiding. (He had been away praying when He came walking on the water to them.)

Jesus often hid Himself in His parables. He was trying to help his disciples understand Him in a way that they could comprehend. Often, to have merely said what He meant seemed to confuse them. I have no doubt that they remembered His words years later and little light-bulb, or, I suppose for the first century, an oil lamp would light over their heads and they would say with great excitement, "Oh, yeah! That's what He meant!" (They didn't understand when He told them, "Destroy this temple,"  and in three days He would raise it up.)

Christ gave us the very famous story of the Prodigal Son. This story has inspired innumerable books, sermons and even, since the film age, several movies over the years. Many have described it as a homily on jealousy, slothfulness, wastefulness, ingratitude and a myriad of other vices. Those a little closer to the truth have spoke of its depiction of the re-grafting of the wayward Gentile into the Divine Branch from which most of back-sliding Israel was cut off.

Still, as I said, I was wondering if there isn't more. If the story being told was much closer to our Lord than He could comfortably express. Was this another one of His stories that said more about Him than His followers could, at that time, receive?

Perhaps, you've never done this, but on several occasions, I've told a story about myself without divulging to the listener that my tale was about me. I would refer to someone I knew or know or heard about and not let the truth out that I was the protagonist of the narrative.

Why would I do such a thing? To say it's a privacy matter would not quite address the question fully. Well, in many respects, I didn't want the story to be about me. I thought that it would take away from the moral and/or spiritual lesson I wanted to convey. Maybe, if it was a good thing, I didn't want to brag. Perhaps it was modesty? Maybe I didn't want to admit that I was the one because it was a story about someone, me, doing something awful.  Sometimes, I was merely changing the names to protect the guilty. Maybe I feared I could never look them in the eye again if the truth were known.

How many times did our Lord heal or raise someone and tell them and their families, "Don't tell anybody it was me." Was it modesty? Maybe. Was He trying to be unpretentious? Was He trying to not be the center of attention. For Him, that was impossible. (He likely just wanted to keep the focus on His Father.)

Some of us have no ability to hide. My dad once accused me of trying to hide in the large church I was then attending. I only asked him if he thought I was the type of person who could hide anywhere. He knowingly smiled.

I can only think that, yes, He understood that His people just were not ready at that point to comprehend...Him! Years later, after much experience, study, prayer and fasting, it might've started to finally make sense. Like I hope it does with me.

Anyway, back to my question: Was Christ the Prodigal Son?

I've learned many valuable lessons from my brother Joe's sermons. One of my favorite things he's helped me with is understanding Biblical analogies.

For years I struggled with many Scripture passages. (Still do.) I knew what I was reading was meant to be a metaphor for something spiritual and I could see how things were similar in one way, but would leave off and be drastically different before the passage ended. Something would be similar, but then dissimilar. I was confused!

I don't recall him using the word, but he taught me that all metaphors, analogies and parables are more parallels than anything. Yes, they are reflections and share so many similarities, but these earthly things can never touch the Heavenly. Secular visions always fall short of the Glory of God.

Calling Christ the Prodigal is the same way. So much is there that is the same, but so much is different because the two sons were different. Still, the parallels are inescapable!

Let us compare:

Noah Webster defined "prodigal," among others, this way:

2. Profuse; lavish; expended to excess or without necessity; as prodigal expenses.
3. Very liberal; profuse. Nature is prodigal of her bounties.

The word "prodigal," strictly speaking, is not locked into a negative connotation. One might be described as prodigious and all would consider that complementary. One might be called a prodigy and that is certainly a good thing to be. The idea here is wrapped around abundance.

The Bible never calls the son "prodigal." That is a title bestowed upon him by scholars throughout the centuries. I do not say it is wrong. Only that the depth of the title hasn't fully been explored.

So, here is a brother; the younger of two. He goes to his father and tells him, "Give me what's mine!"

His inheritance would've been something he received after his father's passing. For whatever reason, though, the father acquiesced and gave to him early what should've come later.

Interestingly, the Scriptures say, "he divided unto them." Was this a legal thing? Was the dividing of the inheritance required to be divided to both to be divided early? Did the older brother see what his baby brother was doing and spring the demand that he too should receive his portion? Did he fear the old man, who had just given in to his brother, would, perhaps, not have his to give later? Did he doubt his father? Did he misjudge his father?

So many questions! But I digress.

After this, the young man took all he had, left for a foreign land, blew it on his friends, found himself living among the swine and had little more to eat than they. We all know the story.

Then, he "came to himself." One of my favorite phrases in the Bible!

He returned home, humiliated, humble, only wanting to serve.

He repented!

He had learned obedience. Albeit, the hard way. (Seems that's the only way we humans learn.)

His father's reaction was more than he could've hoped for. Not only was he welcomed back as a son, rather than a servant, but as a favored son.

He was dead; now he was alive.

I suppose I should say a few words about the older brother. Yes, it seems he too got what was coming to him a little earlier than he should've. (Thanks to his little brother.) He was a busy man. Seems he was always busy. Busy, busy, dreadfully busy! He heard noise and, not wanting to have his hard work interrupted, sent someone to enquire.

The response about the return of his useless brother only made his blood hot. He wouldn't even go to personally investigate.

His father, being the father that he was, made a special effort to invite his older son to come join them. Stubborn pride and inertia kept the man outside. His anger made him he miss out on a really great feast.

All he could manage was to complain and, frankly, lie about how his father had treated him. His father's gentle reminder what he owned was his already along with his cajoling entreaty to join the festivities fell only on unyielding ears.

Yeah, we've heard the story so, so many times! Like a host of others, we grown numb to it. We accept what we're fed, too often husks, and never come to ourselves.

Christ left Glory with all that He had. He became God in the flesh.

He traveled to a foreign land where He lived among strangers. We who knew not God.

He gave everything He had to them. His time, His love and, ultimately, His life.

When he needed them most, they abandoned Him. The crowds who cheered him ultimately, it seems, called for His crucifixion. His disciples all abandoned Him with at least one denying knowing Him.

He found Himself hungry, destitute and bereft. He was always hungry, always poor and even His friends couldn't understand Him and were easily distracted by their own concerns.

He despised the shame He endured, but, ultimately, realized it was the result of His own choices. He didn't want to suffer the cross, but knew if he had chosen otherwise, we would all be condemned to Hell.

Yes, He had been eating with pigs. He hung out with the dregs of society. Worst of all? Occasionally religious people.

He lived as a pig. He not only lived with us, but was one of us. Enduring the same mire and muck that we do. (Both literally and spiritually.)

Yes, He was "no more worthy" to called a Son, but He trusted in His Father.

He Who knew no sin had become one of the sinners. Even more so, He became sin itself!

2 Corinthians 5:21

The sins that He took upon Himself were real! His suffering was real. His separation from His father was real. Being forsaken by His Father was as real as it gets! He became the thing that God hates most. Sin!

How could a sinner be a son? He cannot! The sin must be dealt with and there is only one way to deal with sin. Kill it!

Ultimately, He knew Who His father was and only desired to offer Himself up to His service. He cried for His Father from the Cross. All He wanted to do was please Him. He didn't come as a king; He came as a servant.

Though He knew the journey would be long and tough, He also knew it was the only way Home. He walked that long, lonely road to Golgotha. Though He had surely walked hundreds of miles in His ministry, this was the longest trip He had ever made in His life. He didn't want to make the journey, but He knew, after the cross, He could go Home.

His Father was looking, watching down the road, from Heaven, for the arrival of His Son. He didn't waste a single moment in welcoming Him. At the first twinkling of daylight, the Father ran to meet him, raising up His own Son!

The Father's reaction was simply, "My Son was dead. Now, He's alive!"

The Father gave Him a robe of righteousness and a ring to say that He was His Heir. I can imagine the robe being a coat of many colors. (You, know. Like a rainbow of promise.)

I've no doubt there was such a party in Heaven! It goes on still. Christ, Who's choices, Who's actions had separated Him from His Father, was welcomed Home as a Son. The first Son!

Sin was dead! Christ was alive!

The old man was dead.  The Lamb slain from the foundation of the world is risen!

Yes, all the parallels become more obvious as I look over the Scripture. The more I think and pray on it, the more I'm convinced the Lord gave me something here. (Though, I won't blame Him if I'm wrong.)

Both men did what they did for differing reasons. Yet, their journeys were, I think, undeniably images of the other.

Christ, our Brother, left His Father, left His inheritance, gave all He had for us, was counted as one of us, was dead, now lives and is the preeminent Son of the Father. Yes, the party is for Him. But we are invited.

Many of us are so jealous at the good fortune of others, that we stand outside, pouting and angry and, worst of all, missing out on the party inside.

Won't you come inside and join the celebration? I promise, it'll be fun!







Luke 15:11-32 KJV
[11] And he said, A certain man had two sons:
[12] And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living.
[13] And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living.
[14] And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. [15] And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine.
[16] And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him.
[17] And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!
[18] I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee,
[19] And am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.
[20] And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.
[21] And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.
[22] But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet:
[23] And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry:
[24] For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry. [25] Now his elder son was in the field: and as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard musick and dancing.
[26] And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things meant.
[27] And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound.
[28] And he was angry, and would not go in: therefore came his father out, and intreated him.
[29] And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends:
[30] But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf.
[31] And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.
[32] It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.

Back to the Shack

One day, a couple of years ago, while scrolling through a free movie weekend on HBO, I came across the movie, "The Shack." The family was asleep in bed, so I thought that this would be a fun and interesting movie to watch. I knew nothing about the movie other than it was supposed to be a Christian movie and the idea was that a man meets God in a shack. I expected something a little light-hearted and humorous that would inculcate some useful and important homily. Boy, was I mistaken!

I was not prepared for what happened. This movie was an emotional roller-coaster ride that took me places that, frankly, I didn't care to go. (Yes, I just used a cliche, but it fits so well.)

By the time I had finished this, er, movie, my theology had been, no hyperbole, shaken up. I have ever so rarely come across anything that effected me in such a manner. 

After it was over, I immediately went to Amazon and downloaded the book. Something I'd never done in response to a film before.

I've had so many discussions on-line and with people I know concerning this movie and book. (The book was pleasantly similar to the movie.) Discussions I've renewed repeatedly. I've thought about it and prayed about it and struggled over it. Why? Because, though I highly recommend it, there is something about it that didn't set quite right with me.

If, as I can't imagine, someone who hasn't seen the movie or read the book was to read my thoughts on this, it seems only fair to give fair warning. (Frankly, I cannot imagine anyone other than my immediate family even seeing this post.)

SPOILER ALERT!

Now, the things that bothered me did not necessarily include presenting God as a black woman and the Holy Ghost as an Asian woman. That was explained as, well, real, but also a vision, I suppose. Besides, I decided to treat it as metaphor and just went with it.

The thing that has really vexed me for so long, though, is what the author was trying to say about forgiveness. I understand why people claim he was pushing universal salvation. Though, I didn't really think so myself. Besides, "Papa" kept reiterating that she doesn't like slaves.

Though, a YouTube interview I saw recently with Paul Young seemed to indicate the possibility that he may actually subscribe to a form of "universalism." In short, and trying to paraphrase fairly, he said that he wouldn't be surprised if God was the kind of God who would make a way for all mankind to ultimately come to Him and share His love. 

Personally, I would think one would have to ignore a lot of verses in the Bible about Hell. That would include much preaching from our Lord. To believe that there is any possibility that all will ultimately live in the eternal bliss of Glory flies in the face of everything the Holy Scripture says about the Justice of God. And, yes, God is just!

One scripture reference here: John 3:16. Why would Christ talk about those who believe "would not perish" if, after all is said and done, none perish?

Anyway. Back to the shack!

In the end, the real, ultimate problem was that "Papa" wanted the man to forgive. Okay, but even to the point of forgiving the man who had destroyed his daughter? (Kill is not strong enough of a word.)

Now, honestly, this entire thing is very emotional for me. As a father of a daughter, or, I suppose, for a father of any child, for that matter, the idea of a man hurting my baby is more that my mind wants to ponder. Hurt me, okay. We'll deal with that. But my child? That's quite a different story.

I probably don't need to quote a bunch of Bible verses to make the point that God wants us to forgive one another. (And even ourselves.) He wants us to forgive others. Others who have hurt us. Yes, even hurt us terribly. But with no qualifications?

A year or two ago, there was a shooting at, of all things, a Texas church. Several were killed. Even the pastor's small granddaughter. It was dreadful. Horrible!

One of the most asinine reporters I've ever seen on television was asking questions of the pastor and his wife just a couple of days after the shooting. I can't remember all of his questions, but one really stood out as historically stupid. The man coldly asked, "Have your forgiven the shooter?"

The pastor feebly answered in the affirmative and the clip cut back to something else related to the story. 

Me? I only wished that that idiotic reporter could hear the things I called him!

Why, in the name of all that's holy, would he ask such a heartless question? The poor couple's granddaughter was not even in the grave yet and some jack ass is asking him about forgiveness?

I can guarantee you that if they had not been Christians, if he had not been a pastor, no one would've asked him if he had "forgiven" anyone. But since they were believers, at least with the world, it's perfectly fine to be a thoughtless cad to the recently bereaved. Sheesh!

Now, at that time, I can remember thinking, "Who said the shooter wants forgiveness?" (I can't recall, but I think he was taken alive.) Did anyone ask him if he wanted to be forgiven? Did he ask to be forgiven? Did he think he did anything wrong?

To me, it just seemed like the same old drivel I've heard time and again about "forgiveness." It's almost like the word is magical and somehow saying, "I forgive you," grants as much to whomever we consider the offender.

More later.

Back to "The Shack."

Here is a story about a man, "Mack," who lost his little girl in the worst way imaginable. And he is supposed to forgive this serial killer who doesn't think he's done anything wrong? Someone tell me how that works?

I'm not sure how much time I should spend discussing here what it means to be a reprobate. I could  ask why the Bible talks about them if there is no such thing? People seem to give the concept pretty much no thought.

More later.

I've heard story after story of people "forgiving" those who've hurt them. Those who, at least in their minds and maybe truly, have hurt them in ways that will be with them until their dying day. But, they say they've forgiven them. How?

How do you forgiven someone who thinks they've done nothing wrong. In other words, how do you grant forgiveness to the unrepentant? Can you?

I won't try to quote the number of Bible verses that explain that God's forgiveness is ready and waiting, but we must repent, admit our wrong, and ask forgiveness for the sins we've committed against Him. It's not complicated. He freely grants mercy to those who ask for it. 

What of those who don't repent? Who don't confess? Who don't, who won't, ask for forgiveness? Again, there are a lot of verses about Hell in the Bible too.

There is an almost, methinks, equally important part to this conundrum. How do we deal with the hurt, the pain, the confusion, the anguish when someone doesn't want forgiveness when they've wronged us?

Perhaps we earnestly desire to forgive them. Sometimes it's for our own desire to be relieved of the struggle of not knowing what to do. Sometimes the pain and frustration is so bad, we'll do or believe anything to relieve it. Sometimes people just fake it.

The author described the grief the family was stuck in after the disappearance of the child as the "great sadness." What an apropos name. The guilt, the shame and the loss the family endured was something to which all too many can relate. I thank God I cannot!

Firstly, bearing in mind that it's impossible for us to be unbiased and we, being human, tend to think first of ourselves and our own needs. Still, we must be sure as we can be that we are the injured party and not just suffering from our own poor choices. (This part requires much prayer and fasting.) Alas, we do tend to conflate the two.

That is one thing the author did brilliantly, he chose a hopeless scenario where there could be no doubt about who was at fault. Yes, the parents, being good parents, felt guilt for the mistakes, that they imagined, incorrectly, they made. They, no doubt, were actually, certainly the innocent, injured parties. Theirs was a hurt that they did not ask for in any way.

The awful thing the perpetrator had done had showed him as someone certainly on the road to Hell. The dichotomy between himself and the family was a clear demonstration that he was as guilty as they were innocent. He was certainly a man in need of forgiveness.

So, how do we cope when people just ain't interested in our forgiveness? They don't believe they've done wrong or they just don't care. Even with someone so lost as a sociopathic killer.

There is a question worth actually considering: What if the offender is a reprobate. Certainly, in my mind, the serial killer in the story is such. Reprobate means, simply, abandoned of God. To paraphrase that, I would  say that such people are so cold and numb to the Holy Ghost that God doesn't even trouble Himself with them. (How horrible would it be to be so depraved?)

These people would be rare, of course. Quick names like Hitler, Stalin and Mao come to mind. Still we don't have to look any farther than our own Congress to find such people. A politician who thinks it's perfectly fine to murder a defenseless baby for simple convenience and would campaign on as much betrays a diabolical lack of heart and conscience. The abortion doctor, the serial rapist and pedophile are so far in the flesh, I don't know if there is any hope for these people. 

God's mercy is deep and wide, so, occasionally, I find myself praying for them. Hope springs eternal?

We so struggle with what is often today called "closure." (I hate that term!) The word was used in the movie. 

We want to escape the pain, whoever may be at fault. So we search for any means to mollify or alleviate it. We just want it to go away. We want release. The problem is, what do we do when the pain just won't go away?

Pain is only a part of life. It is inevitable. We feel it in our tummies whenever we've missed a meal. We feel it in our bones as the years pass and we grow old and grey. We feel it in our hearts when we lose something or someone we love. Pain is just pain.

We seek our escape, but it follows us wherever we go. It's there like an old friend, or enemy, who never lets us get too far removed. It holds onto us and wakes us in the night to tell us the most unpleasant stories of days gone by. It even haunts us in our dreams. It's wherever we are. It's part of us. It just is.

We like to say we forgive those who've hurt us because we think it will give us peace. The problem is, it does not. We may live in denial, but the pain is still gnawing at us. We can't get shed of it. At least not so easily. 

Christ taught his disciples to forgive "seventy times seven." Obviously, this is not literal, but a principal. We are to be forgiving to our brother no matter how many times he hurts us.

Scripture says that, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." "Confess" being the operative word. (Yes, I did just reference a particular verse. Finally!)

The question remains: Can we forgive those who do not confess? Those who do not repent? Those who, in their own eyes, have done no wrong? Can we? 

Can God?

Entire Christian denominations are founded on the principal of what is aptly, if over-simply, called "irresistible grace." The idea is that we have no part in our salvation; we don't, can't, even choose God. He strictly and simply chooses us. We are saved because a Holy God, in His wisdom and righteousness, makes us so. We can't lose our salvation because we never claimed it. It was simply granted to us. It is irresistible.

Now, remember, Papa doesn't like slaves. ("Papa" said "prisoners." "Jesus" said "slaves." We are, in my mind, most definitely slaves if we have no choice who we love. Choices can, regrettably, be bad, but they must be ours and we must be free to make them. Otherwise, there is no such thing as free will. 

The Calvinist believes grace is irresistible. The Armenian believes, even after accepting it, grace is rejectable. Both are wrong. The former believes that we cannot love God while the latter believes God cannot love us. Love is a choice and it is everlasting or it isn't love at all. Otherwise, It's just some unpleasant thing that controls us as opposed to us controlling it.

So, again, can I forgive those who stubbornly refuse to ask? I certainly don't mean that they must come crawling to me, begging my forgiveness and that I will then condescend to grant it. No, I mean that their heart and mind must agree that they've done wrong and they must desire forgiveness with sincerity. We too must be ever ready to receive them and love them with a contrite heart and with no haughtiness or pride. We must, at the first sign, be ready to freely give the forgiveness they desperately need and we desperately need to give.

Now, can God forgive the unrepentant. The Holy Scriptures cry out, "NO!"

God's mercy is deep and wide, but if we simply refuse to drink the water, we will die of thirst. Remember the old adage about leading the horse?

Christ became our intercessor on the cross. He died that He might be the propitiation between God and man. He prayed, "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do." With that prayer to His Father, He granted forgiveness to every sinner who had ever breathed and those yet to draw breath. But what if we simply don't want His forgiveness? Is it possible to refuse the God of the Universe?

Studies by smarter men than me calculate that every time we inhale, we inhale a molecule of oxygen that Christ exhaled with His dying breath. Mind boggling! 

Imagine if a man simply refused, for whatever reason, to inhale. If he could somehow just stop breathing. He would die and that very quickly!

It's a simple and inadequate metaphor, but so many treat God's grace the same way. It's there for us to simply inhale, but pride, earthly desires, lusts, anger and a myriad of other devices lead men to hold their breaths like spoiled little toddlers until it's too late. They refuse to breath; so they die.

Hell is full of those who refused the offer of salvation. 

Yes, it's a heady thought, but we can actually refuse this great gift of mercy and forgiveness. We can refuse God's love. We can refuse His forgiveness. We can refuse to love God. Otherwise, it just wouldn't be love, would it?

If you believe you can forgive the unrepentant, aren't you saying you have power that God on His Throne does not? No Christian would say that God forgives without confession and repentance, so, why do we say we can? Why do people stubbornly hold onto the idea that we can forgive those who have unrepentantly wronged us? 

After years of prayer and study on the matter, I believe I've come up with an answer. It may not be THE answer, but if I had to say yes or no, I'd say it is. 

If you can forgive me without my confession and repentance, then it follows suit that God can do the same for you. No confession. No repentance. No change in attitude. Just forgiveness. Unrequested and irresistible. And very, very convenient!

Now, isn't that a way to live? No repentance and no remorse. Just go on with your life as you always have and God will just forgive and forgive and forgive. That, my friend, is the way to Hell!

Sure, no one who believes in one-sided forgiveness is going to agree with my assessment, but two plus two still equals four. If I don't need to repent, then neither do you. Anything else is illogical and denial of intent.

Papa encouraged Mack to repeat the words, "I forgive you," to the perpetrator, who wasn't even around to hear the words. He told him that he would have to say it many times until he could truly forgive, but that that was the way to begin. Ya know, as if the words are a mantra and, if oft repeated, will help you reach nirvana.

Papa even explains, in, I'll call it, the discovery scene, that "forgiveness doesn't create a relationship." Really? How can someone have a relationship with me when I've hurt them and won't admit it? In all fairness, the movie doesn't explain this hypothesis as well as the book. Still, though forgiveness is certainly the first step in a relationship, it is the most essential part of it. I cannot be an unforgiven child of God and neither will God force His forgiveness on me.

Words mean things. Or they mean nothing.

Forgive means forgive. Forgiveness is not about me; it's about the sinner. The offender. It's not about making me feel better; it's about granting pardon to a wrongdoer.

Forgive! Forgive freely, readily and quickly. 

Most of all, pray. Pray! And then pray some more. Maybe after enough prayer, you'll shut up and start listening. 

Then, when things make no sense and the pain just seems to continue, if you look around you'll see One on a cross beside you promising He'll be with you to the very end. 

And then...Paradise!

p.s. In writing something of this nature, the hardest part, perhaps, is looking inward. I try to sincerely ask myself if I'm only giving reasons in vain hope of begrudging forgiveness to those who've hurt me and mine. 

All I can do is pray and hope that I'm being open and honest. I'm only trying to point out that, for us lowly humans, forgiveness is difficult at best. And it needs to be the real deal!

Father God, on the other hand, is an expert at forgiveness. Of course, that's what makes Him special.

Yeah, if you think forgiveness was easy for Him, allow the Holy Ghost to remind you of just what it took to enable Him to forgive us pitiful sinners.

Out of the Closet?

The preacher says, "It's easier to come out of the closet than to clean out the closet."

Sometimes it's just easier to admit we are sinners, using that as a cop out, so that we don't have to repent and do anything about it.

Mea Culpa

It's my fault! It's not your fault; it's not my neighbors fault; it's not the government's fault; it's definitely not God's fault. I've been a jack ass!

I've done things in my life that I am so ashamed of that I shudder when they cross my mind. They haunt me in the still of the night when I should be sleeping the sleep of the righteous. I awaken in the morning and they are sometimes the first thing to leap into my mind. I wretch when they rear their ugly heads.

I wish I could say it was someone else's fault. I'd love to look back on my life and say, "At least, I didn't do..." Yet, I did. I'd like to think that there are some things that are beneath me. It would be nice to believe that I only imagined these things, but I know they are real.

There are people I've known in my life that I used and abused through no fault of their own. If I had been any kind of man, I would not have hurt them. I've heard that AA requires their people to go to everyone they've hurt and apologize. That's not an avenue that I, coward that I am, am prepared to take.

My Daddy always tried to teach me that you can lose an entire life of confidence with one stupid move. If the one you hurt never, ever trusts you again, you have no one to blame but yourself. Is it hard? Is it tough? Is it even fair? I suppose so. Still, that's just the way it is, like it or not!


I've done the excuses and what Bishop T.D. Jakes calls a "Yeah, But Card." I would blame every body, including God, but me. I'd think, "It's not my fault I'm in this situation. God could have saved me from my stupid mistakes, but He didn't." What a fool! I'm supposed to make a mess and God is supposed to clean it up?

I hope that I have repented of my sins. (Or is that am repenting?) I hope that I am a better man than I once was. I'd like to think so.

I can't go back and fix it. If there really was a way to repay the ones I hurt and make it right, I suppose I would. Though, I really wouldn't want to stir up those old ghosts again.

The only thing that I can do is try to live the kind of life today that says that I've changed and, perhaps, even matured. I can do my best to live in a manner that says that that old beast is gone, or at least, more or less, in submission. I can only attempt to have the kind of consistency in my life that says that I am not the boy I used to be. Maybe, someday, I will be a man...a Godly man. That is my greatest hope.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is, in my own cowardly way, that if I hurt you or someone you care about...I'm truly, deeply, sorry. I apologize. I want you to know that I'm still far from perfect...very, very, very far! Yet, I hope I'm right when I say I've grown up quite a bit over the years. I certainly wouldn't even think about doing or saying some of the things I was doing some years ago.

Lastly, it is my hope that someone who knew me then and knows me now, if my time on earth were through, their final thought of me would be that I ended better than I started. I hope they believe I really did make a change and closed my life as a man who, at least, sincerely tried to be a better man.

I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but maybe, by the Grace of God, you'll even go so far as to forgive me...maybe.