flawed.
I found one of these 'Repent Sinner' cards last year on East Hastings St. in Vancouver. Hundreds of these cards have been picked up in western cities in Canada and the U.S., all in the same handwriting.
A brief thought on the word 'repent'. Of late it has been such a dirty word to me. Something spewed at me by crazed evangelists in Toronto. Something passed to me on tracts that I take offense to. I've lost touch with what repentance is. What it feels like.
But last night as I ate some grilled tofu, I was thinking about it. I was ranting actually. I rant sometimes. I was telling Rick about being sorry for my inaction. And wanting to leave that, and grow and act. Then I paused and said: ... 'I repent of my complacency'.
And there it was. Out in the open.
I'm sorry. I asked forgiveness from God. I am forgiven. I turn from my sin and take steps toward something better.
A trite tract denies my journey, the difficulty I have in bringing myself to the point of being on my knees. A fiery evangelist doesn't draw me to that act of repentance. The angry preachers on Yonge street can shove it for all I care. It's really only God who brings me to that point. Repentance is too beautiful, too raw a message to be hurled onto the street in impersonal, monosyllabic barks.
Maybe the word 'repent' has been abused beyond redemption. But it's a process I strive within.. where my flawed self collides with an unfathomable God, day in and day out.
And there it is, out in the open.
I found one of these 'Repent Sinner' cards last year on East Hastings St. in Vancouver. Hundreds of these cards have been picked up in western cities in Canada and the U.S., all in the same handwriting.
A brief thought on the word 'repent'. Of late it has been such a dirty word to me. Something spewed at me by crazed evangelists in Toronto. Something passed to me on tracts that I take offense to. I've lost touch with what repentance is. What it feels like.
But last night as I ate some grilled tofu, I was thinking about it. I was ranting actually. I rant sometimes. I was telling Rick about being sorry for my inaction. And wanting to leave that, and grow and act. Then I paused and said: ... 'I repent of my complacency'.
And there it was. Out in the open.
I'm sorry. I asked forgiveness from God. I am forgiven. I turn from my sin and take steps toward something better.
A trite tract denies my journey, the difficulty I have in bringing myself to the point of being on my knees. A fiery evangelist doesn't draw me to that act of repentance. The angry preachers on Yonge street can shove it for all I care. It's really only God who brings me to that point. Repentance is too beautiful, too raw a message to be hurled onto the street in impersonal, monosyllabic barks.
Maybe the word 'repent' has been abused beyond redemption. But it's a process I strive within.. where my flawed self collides with an unfathomable God, day in and day out.
And there it is, out in the open.
1 Comments:
good talk that was, that talk at groots.
-rick
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