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The Dark Truth

This is a fair warning: this post will contain extremely bitter thoughts. Sometimes, we know goodness from its opposite.

It seems to me that most people, if given a choice between suffering with you, and inflicting suffering upon you, will take the latter. Some more intentionally than others. I confess that I have been tempted to say that I don't want to love or trust anyone. Or at some level, it is more than a temptation. This pandemic has given me cover to get away from people, and frankly, to not feel bad about it.

On the other hand, I suppose that if I am buffeted by all these emotions, I haven't given up. I can't say that I don't care what people say and do, because that's obviously not true. Still, I want not to care. It seems like it would be a great grace to me if I did not. On another hand still, the recognized experts in not caring are sociopaths. I'm fairly certain I don't want to be a sociopath.

And then there's forgiveness, of course. But even to think about that fills me with a certain guilt, as if to offer it is a betrayal of my own heart. On the other hand, I least of all want to inflict suffering, even if I think in unguarded moments that they would deserve it. Maybe at least the outer edge of forgiveness is to want good for those who have hurt us. I feel a long way from sharing a beer and a hug, but if you press me, I'm not one for vengeance; I just need it to be known that I am here, and it has not been a pain-free journey.

I heard a story the other day that warmed my heart in a strange way. Apparently, there was a lady who was at least self-aware enough to know that she had broken a few eggshells in her life, so to speak. I even think I saw that she knew that she came off as a kind of prickly pear. Anyway, she wanted it proclaimed at her own funeral that she was truly sorry for anything she had said or done to offend anyone. That seems like something I would do. Yet I can imagine a person in my life saying, "No, you did a specific thing; you don't get to make a general apology to cover a specific thing." That's fair enough, I suppose. I might say in reply though that I'm not so good at guessing games.

I make the odd general apology to the Lord all the time, because there is something about my conscience that seems to think I'll land in hell on a technicality. The Lord, however, is full of compassion. He's not the dense one. I hope there's a saint somewhere who prays, "Lord, I'm not malicious, I'm just dumb."

I suppose I can't just rewind to 2018, and start over. That's an appealing thought. It's the kind of thought that occurs to people who feel like they were left for dead somewhere, and yet have gone on living. This is exactly what I experience: that some part of me has been taken away, and I won't get it back.

There's a truth that breaks through that I have no right to deny. Whatever I have lost is not truly lost. Jesus and the saints are keeping it for me. It is for God to decide when he will restore me. If he wills that I should walk around as half a man, I'll do it. If I'm gonna believe, I might as well believe all the way.
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