a note on wood
In SS class today we talked about sawdust vs planks and our indelible need to point out other people's flaws, disregarding our own fault-riddled selves. We all know, and sometimes are, the person who rants on about how unreasonable or selfish Miss PseudoChristian is being, how she seems to ferret out ways to make us miserable. "How can she claim to be a follower of God?" we wonder with all piety.
Somebody hand us a mirror and quick.
Susanna, who led today's class, said that after awhile we notice that these rantings tell us more about the ranter than the people he/she's recriminating. Well said.
A few years back, we hobbled through some difficult days. In that time, I learned that loving someone says a whole lot about who I am, and virtually nothing about who the someone is--like whether or not they deserve it, or how lovable they might be. I can choose to love someone who spitefully uses, belittles, wrongfully accuses me--or worse, my family. I can love them, not because of who they are, but because of who I am--a child of the Author of grace, forgiven of so much myself.
PS--And I'm still working on this, will probably always be working on this. Why do I find it so easy to cast stones?
Post Post Script--And by "love," I *don't* mean feeling all warm-and-slooshy inside everytime I see their face. I mean treating them with kindness (yes, even behind their backs, which is way hard), and wanting good to happen to them. Like I said, still working on this one.
Somebody hand us a mirror and quick.
Susanna, who led today's class, said that after awhile we notice that these rantings tell us more about the ranter than the people he/she's recriminating. Well said.
A few years back, we hobbled through some difficult days. In that time, I learned that loving someone says a whole lot about who I am, and virtually nothing about who the someone is--like whether or not they deserve it, or how lovable they might be. I can choose to love someone who spitefully uses, belittles, wrongfully accuses me--or worse, my family. I can love them, not because of who they are, but because of who I am--a child of the Author of grace, forgiven of so much myself.
PS--And I'm still working on this, will probably always be working on this. Why do I find it so easy to cast stones?
Post Post Script--And by "love," I *don't* mean feeling all warm-and-slooshy inside everytime I see their face. I mean treating them with kindness (yes, even behind their backs, which is way hard), and wanting good to happen to them. Like I said, still working on this one.
posted by nic at 2:42 PM
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