I Am Not Hamlet

Most Western Christians are Augustinian in some way and I can't deny that myself, even though I have trouble with the man's outlook in ways I can't fully articulate.  Still, the Western church didn't make him a saint for nothing (in the East he's known as Blessed Augustine--they never fully warmed up to him).  Anyway, here's a piece from his gigantic magnum opus (and this was hand written, mind you) City of God book 22, chapter 22. This life of ours--if a life so full of such great ills can properly be called a life--bears witness to the fact that, from its very start, the race of mortal men has been a race condemned.  Think, first, of that dreadful abyss of ignorance from which all error flows and so engulfs the sons of Adam in a darksome pool that no one can escape without the toll of toils and tears and fears.  Then, take our very love for all those things that prove so vain and poisonous and breed so many heartaches, troubles, griefs, and fears; such insan...

Less than 24 hours remain in Advent 2014, and while the season hasn't been particularly hard, life itself has been.  Reflecting back, I think my life has been in a semi-tailspin since late January 2012, from which I've only partially recovered. Without revealing too much, I've been struggling to overcome a habitual sin that has plagued me for far too long; my economic contribution to my family has been negligible, and I've been ambivalent about joining the Roman rite of the Catholic Church since Spring 2012. What I (think) need is a priest who can find that balance in the confessional between saying, "Quit Fu@&ing around" and "Jesus loves you more than you can imagine, keep following Him, do not, under any circumstances, take your eyes from Him." Does anyone in SE Michigan know of such a priest? Here's hoping your Advent has been fruitful.

There is no twelve-step program for pride.  The sins of the flesh, while destructive, are not the worst, as is the spiritual sin of pride.  That it's invisible and can be mistaken for good makes it that much more insidious.

O Lord, The house of my soul is narrow; enlarge it that you may enter in. It is ruinous, O repair it! It displeases Your sight. I confess it, I know. But who shall cleanse it, to whom shall I cry but to you? Cleanse me from my secret faults, O Lord, and spare Your servant from strange sins.                                     --St. Augustine Lent is about halfway through and my house [soul] is still a mess.  It's a crack house, a whorehouse, a poor house, a rent-controlled shack.  Every confession cleans it up a bit, but the filth comes right back. Image courtesy of Pikkatze I let in the dirt, knowing my LORD wants it clean.  I should dwell in a spotless tent, but I've turned it into a latrine.  Why do I return to my vomit?  Why is that more attractive than the face of Beauty? Give me a spirit of purity, humility, patience and love, LORD. ...

Those of us who struggle with habitual sins--and we know who we are--are very likely to break our hearts over the business of turning away from those chronic mark missings [from the Greek word for sin: amartia --SFM].  Our problems with recurring sin, and the more general human problem of being enslaved by sin, is never simply solved by our rejecting that sin, no matter how many times we try, no matter how strenuously we struggle to reject it. That is because merely rejecting sin--that is, focusing on not sinning--is finally just another species of infernal no . "Just say no" is an insufficient principle. The strongest man or woman in the world is not nearly strong enough to triumph over his or her sin simply by saying no to it.  What we need is the strength-giving grace occasioned by our saying yes to something else , by our saying yes , and yes , and yes --ceaselessly--to Someone else. It is not our finally turning away from sin that frees us from sin's ...

Given that I'll probably not be published anytime soon and that I'm going to read this in my daughter's class tomorrow--I'm publishing this here and now.  Critiques are most welcome. Rhonwyn’s Closet             Can you keep a secret?   You’ve got to promise not to tell anyone.   OK, here, look in my closet.   Creepy, huh?   Well, it all started when…             “Rhonwyn, have you cleaned up after Jasper yet?” my mommy asked me.             “Of course, Mommy.”             “Really?”   Her left eyebrow always looked bent like a caterpillar when she didn’t believe me.             “Yes, the yard doesn’t even look like a dog lives there.   Except for the dog house with the red r...