i suppose it's not too far of a mental stretch. looking at my own life, i'd say karma is about the last metaphysical director i'd want throwing switches and pushing buttons in my life. in my conscientious mind, i try to do a good deed here and there throughout the day, whether it's a physical action to benefit another or making a choice to discipline myself. not getting angry at people who throw a wrench into my plans. holding the door open for someone. chatting with a lonely stranger. saving a kitten from a tree. you know, the normal stuff.
but in all seriousness, let's look big(ger) picture here. despite all my well-being and self-motivated attempts at chivalry and decency, i am a wreck. as it's been said, "all the good that i've done is in spite of myself." and how so. if karma governed the world's orbit, i would have certainly run my proverbial plane into the ground once, twice, thrice, again, and again, and again, and again, etc. too much of my heart has been dipped in tar, tainted with what this world says is natural and good and true, to keep myself steady on the straight and narrow. even scraping the bulk of sinful gunk off, there's still a black stain that creeps in sporadically yet continually. "i should really be thinking about what i'm doing after college...i wonder how i can get so-and-so to approve of me...i can't wait to see my plan follow through..."
the sinful nature. ever elusive to elude. and so i am in the red.
if what went around came around, i should be alone in this world for how much i've shortchanged the friendships that mean so much to me. if what went around came around, i would deserve no blessings or support in my career endeavors. if what went around came around, i would deserve rejection, exile, disappointment and separation--hell, in a word.
if what went around came around...
if the sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law...
if what went around....
if what went...
if...
if.
but.
but...
but what if...
but thanks...
but thanks be...
but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
but You are a shield around me, O Lord; You bestow glory on me and lift up my head.
but God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loves us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved.
as of late, i have become aware of two glaring facts: one, i am a pretty miserable screw up. i cannot save myself, and i can't do this life on my own and come out truly joyful. i am messy. but, two...my Father loves me anyway. the Lord would love an embarrassing, stumbling, disrespectful creation like me even though i would have given up on myself years over years ago. and i am forever indebted and in praise of Jesus Christ for His all-encompassing gift of Himself to me.
therefore, i cannot talk myself out of pursuing deeper levels of my relationship with Him just because of my shortcomings. i will never be "ready," but God calls me just the same. does a bird take endless time to study and calculate and analyze what flying is before it goes out and just does it? the mistakes are necessary, but are surmountable. even those mistakes made in the latest of years, when you'd think a bird would have learned to avoid all the obstacles there are to flying, those mistakes still show up. but i'd rather fall beside God, where He is ready to pull me to my feet, than off on my own in foolish pride.
to illustrate how completely dorky i am, i offer here a quote from batman begins: "why do we fall, sir? so that we might learn to get back up." i'd also offer a slight variation in response. we fall, so that when we do, we learn that we are prone to fall and we cannot rely on ourselves to pick ourselves up. we must trust in One who can deign among us out of love and will carry us through to the end with Him in His everlasting glory.
amen.
From tender years you took Me for granted,
But still I deign to wander through your lungs;
While you were sleeping soundly in your bed,
Your drapes were silver wings, your shutters flung.
I drew the poison from the summer's sting,
And eased the fire out of your fevered skin.
I moved in you and stirred your soul to sing;
And if you'd let Me I would move again.
I've danced 'tween sunlit strands of lover's hair;
Helped form the final words before your death.
I've pitied you and plied your sails with air;
Gave blessing when you rose upon My breath.
But still I deign to wander through your lungs;
While you were sleeping soundly in your bed,
Your drapes were silver wings, your shutters flung.
I drew the poison from the summer's sting,
And eased the fire out of your fevered skin.
I moved in you and stirred your soul to sing;
And if you'd let Me I would move again.
I've danced 'tween sunlit strands of lover's hair;
Helped form the final words before your death.
I've pitied you and plied your sails with air;
Gave blessing when you rose upon My breath.
