Relentless

So that last post must have left everyone (all 2 of the occasional accidental browsers that hit my page) with so much hope for my return... and then I dropped off the planet again. 

Would it suffice if I simply said I've been waiting for the proper time to strike with an entertaining and worthy re-entering? 

No?  Okay, well that's fine because I don't have a Hollywood entrance for you. 

In all actuality, I don't have anything exciting to offer.  I have indulged in and very much enjoyed my hiatus.  And this post is in no way a promise that I am going to "re-join the world."  We can tell how seriously I take that notion by my use of that phrase two months ago, and the hours and depth of words between it and this post (sarcasm).  

The truth is that I just haven't had it in me.  I haven't had much of anything to give.  To myself, to my Community, to my God... and if I'm coming up empty before my God, there's just nothing to pour out into writing.  In the last month, I have found myself stumbling across articles or blog posts that pull at my soul, that cause my thoughts to race, that evoke almost anti-apathetic opinions that put me just along the brink of sharing it with everyone and no one on the internet. But at the end of the day, I ignore my laptop's judgment of me from across the room as I turn the TV on in the evening to let my brain go blank.   

I did read pieces of a blog today, though.   It was about a woman's struggle with alcohol addiction  and that's why I'm here. 

Before you get all excited to share some juicy piece of gossip with someone else about me, realize that you're slandering my name and Paul said not to do that.  But also that I don't attend AA... because I am not addicted to alcohol.  Had you on the edge of your seat for a second there, though, didn't I?  I do in fact have an addiction; and mine's not so specific.  I'm addicted to sin-- just sin in general.  A sin of worldliness that encompasses much more than a specific issue that I can attend a meeting once a week for (not that by any means that's all it takes to 'cure' Alcoholism).  But I am very much romanced by, and involved with, the world.   

I might have to schedule different meetings every night of the week to cure my worldliness.  Monday night, I'll schedule a support group for self-righteousness.  Tuesday for apathy.  Wednesday I'll reserve for doubt.  Thursday for materialistic and shallow lust.  And Friday for my selfishness.  And even as I could fight with my pride long enough to keep that up week after week, I would get nowhere without acknowledging and accepting the Grace Jesus poured out over my life when He trusted God's goodness and faithfulness enough to willingly be mounted on the cross.  And that thought occurred to me as I read blog post after blog post by the "Christian drunk".   

It was in that particular phrasing that I had one of those 'a-ha!' moments.  No matter how often, intense, or pre-meditated the offense is, we are all Christian [fill-in-the-blank-with-something-horrendously-offensive-to-God-and-shameful]s.  You and me, we are Christian Sinners.  Oxymoronic?  Maybe.  But maybe not.   

Last week, at the SIUE I Agree With {Brian} Campaign
(where I was immensely proud of my stud of a boyfriend for being a faithful little broken servant before the masses), there was a panel discussion in which CRU invited believers, non-believers, and skeptics all alike to ask questions about Jesus and the Gospel.  Things they were confused about or had been challenged by, controversy that had burned them in churches past, and all around some of the most popular misconceptions about what Jesus actually came here to say and do.   

There were a lot of really hard questions and, more often than not, simple curiosity combatting with more skepticism.  Of course, I was there to support Brian.  But out of the whole night, one question stood out to me.  In context, a girl stood up and asked about Forgiveness-- simply put, if someone who hadn't forgiven an abuser (sexual, in this case) would go to hell.  The panel began to answer, and the questions continued; it became more like a conversation and I was sitting there thinking that I'd like to be on the panel in that moment.  I could answer.  I had a good answer.  And then she asked: 

"And what about him (the abuser)?  Are you saying that if he apologized and repented for what he had done, he'd just get off scotch-free?  That he would get to go to Heaven and be there with the person who hadn't done anything wrong (the abused)?"    

Initially distracted by her small blunder ["scotch-free"], I almost missed the last question.  But  I was humbled in the moment, and in more way than having to repent for my grammatical judgment on her.  Both the abused and the abuser, having equally accepted the shame (created and received), will stand before God all the same.  Both, repenting for any and all of life's sin, are accepted and beloved, sought after and won -- by God.   

And that is a relentless love.  The Love that fights to convince His daughter that she is pure and worthy, that she is lovely and honorable despite anything she's been shown before now.  And the Love that fights to convince His son that he is redeemed and forgiven, that he is pure and honorable, as well, despite anything he's been told before now.