How far off? Lord, to you or to myself, I dare to ask for etwas to complain about, with a fast Nooo! chaser. I am most surely ingesting too much sugar literally and emotionally in this season. Cloying describes me. My friend said yesterday I was sweet, I quickly countered, “No, I’m not,” but I realize. that’s an unreal virtue I project and many acquaintances accept.
But, God, you know the secret lies and flaws I hide. You know my attempted disguise: “It’s not that bad; I never killed anyone.” But there’s a flowing stream of guilt and remorse that I feel and refuse to yield to your simple promise of redemption. Mental self-flagellation. I need/want to beat myself up, to pay for the sins of humanity, perhaps to think I can thereby save myself from this guilt.
Isn’t such speculation food for depression? despair? It’s assuredly hubris, refusing to look to you. Not sweet. I think, speculation is idle thought, and am I not conflating it with prayer, since this is the general content of my prayers for myself? Seems unworthy: let me be the judge, not You.
Don’t I have something better to do?
B said he is called by the dissolution of thought, by the “little mind” from his shiatsu practice. This points me again to emptying, nothingness, which I fear.
Lord, lead me on Your path, fearlessly. Help me aim to be kind, not sweet.
Lord have mercy
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