Skip to main content

I Can't Remember

Be careful what you pray for...It's not an uncommon phrase, and one full of the wisdom of experience. In praying for patience, you will likely find yourself in situations that require patience. In praying for greater faith, situations that require faith will likely be the order of the day.

I thought I had learned this lesson.

I don't know what got into me, but a month or so ago, I began to ask God to show me my sins, to show me areas of my life that needed repentance. And you know what? Yep, He answered my prayer. I went from patting myself on the back because I thought I had climbed pretty darn high on the thoughtfulness/kindness/goodness ladder to sliding so far down that I had to look up to see the bottom rung. My eyes opened, and I saw that I was the most wretched wretch I knew.

I repented. Then I promptly isolated myself from God. I withdrew. I was subconsciously convinced that He was angry with me. How could He not be? I was angry with myself. Disgusted at my thoughtless, selfish ways. If I felt that way about myself, surely that's how God felt about me too.

Several weeks went by like this. Then someone asked me a simple question. "What do you imagine when you think of Jesus?" I paused before answering, my brain rapid-firing thoughts of alI that I should say - something positive and wonderful, something encouraging, something that sounded holy; but I was tired of pretending. I answered honestly. I verbalized the dark and ugly thoughts that ate at me from within.

Shortly thereafter, I read a story about a woman having visions of Jesus. Whether true or not, the point was timely. The story goes that in order to test the validity of these visions, a cleric asked the woman to ask Jesus for a list of the sins he had recently confessed. Ten days later, the woman met with the cleric. What was Jesus' response to the woman's question regarding the cleric's recently confessed sins?

"I can't remember." *

Three simple words. The phrase is usually accompanied by frustration or remorse, and it's often preceded by, "I'm sorry."

They have an entirely new meaning for me now. I can't think them, much less say them, without that story coming out from beneath the clutter of my thoughts and standing front and center. In the two seconds it takes to say them, I hear Jesus speak. I hear His answer echoing through to the depths of my soul. I hear forgiveness for sins confessed; sins laid at the foot of the cross; sins no longer mine to carry because He took them to hell and left them there. Sins He can't remember.

It makes me just a little bit giddy.

As far as the east is from the west, so far does He remove our sins from us (Ps 103:12).

* from The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning p.118

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Believing the Lies

My husband and I recently watched The Help - a story about a group of African American women who worked as maids in Jackson, Mississippi in the '60s. One of the protagonists works for a woman "who got no b'ness havin' babies." This woman, this family maid and nanny, tells her little two year old ward regularly, "You is pretty. You is smart. You is impor'ant." How difficult it is for us to believe that about ourselves - really, to believe anything good about ourselves. I always try to be my raw self when I write a blog post. Today is no exception. So I confess that I've been drowning in a storm of lies lately. My head knows they're lies, and I could easily tell anyone else in the same place that they're lies, but I haven't been able to get a grip. There have been so many of them coming at me at once. It seems that I just break the surface, gulp some fresh air of truth then get pulled back under. One thing I know: the enemy of our ...

More Than Enough

Life is teeming with reminders of our need for God. Take today for example: I'm exhausted. I have this ridiculously sensitive body rhythm, and I messed it up yesterday. I went to St. Louis with a mother and daughter. The daughter is strongly considering an extended stay in Burkina Faso as a missionary. So the mother/daughter team that have been there/done that spent the day with the mother/daughter team in the early stages of going there/doing that. It was a great time. Ami and I both enjoyed sharing our experiences, and by their own admission, the time was profitable for the other mother and daughter; but for me, to talk for a full eight hours is waaaayyy past my conversation limit. "Conversation limit?" Yep. Conversation limit. A previous boss used to cite some statistic about how many words an average woman speaks each day as compared to the average man. He'd see me talking and joke that I hadn't reached my quota for the day. My quota, however, is much lower ...

As A Child

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3 Become like little children? Really? Children are definitely cute and innocent, but that pretty much covers the positive qualities. On the negative side, however, the list is quite a bit lengthier: demanding, dependent, self-centered, messy, often smelly, expensive, and embarrassingly honest. So why? WHY in the world would Jesus tell us to become like little children? WHY in the world would He want that? What was He thinking?! Well, He was a thirty-something year-old bachelor. Maybe He didn't really know what He was talking about when He said that. I mean, if we come to Him like little children, it's pretty much guaranteed to be messy. We're likely to be crabby, cranky. We might be downright angry. Prayer-ADD is hard to control on a good day. If we're not on top of it, if we don't have our list in front of us to focus our thoughts, we...