My favorite movies have good triumphing over evil. Typically the handsomely courageous hero fights through terrible odds to take down the repulsively sinister villain. We're talking vast extremes of people — the very, very bad versus the very, very good.
But what happens when things aren't so black or white? When the battle is not between good or bad?
When I replace the word "or" with "and" I start to struggle. We live in contradiction daily, but I think I've been in denial.
We are sinners. Like Paul (Romans 7:15), we do the things we don't want to do and we don't do the things we do want to do. This makes sense to me. People have the tendency for sin. Sometimes we do bad things, make poor choices, and we hurt people in the process. But most of us don't want to do that. So we fight against temptation and sinful tendencies. And we often do good things, make wise choices, and love people.
We are a contradiction. We are bittersweet.
So I'm learning — to live in contradiction. Where one person can do something heinous, like abuse a child, but can also appear to be an upstanding citizen, respected by others. And I try so hard to justify how someone can be both good and bad. How someone can say they love you and then hurt you. And how I can accept this in all people, especially in myself.
Because when you've been let down, you don't want to be let down again. And when you have experienced childhood sexual abuse, you want to protect yourself from ever being hurt that way again. I have convinced myself that I can actually control this. That there is something I can do to stop the bad.
I wage war with it, but I'm left feeling disappointed. I am not in control.
Then I'm pointed to the cross, perhaps the best example of a contradiction. Where Jesus offered up his life in payment for the sins of the human race. This horrible death on the cross given willingly so that we can be reunited with God for eternity. The worst punishment and the most beautiful gift.
If only my head could make sense of what my heart already knows. That suffering can result in something positive. That being hurt by someone doesn't necessarily mean they don't care about you. And that the worst can, at the very same time, be the best.
An inspired contradiction I'm learning to live in.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Listening to Summer (a five minute friday)
My Five Minute Friday on: Listen
The fridge is humming and I hear water trickling into the freezer to make ice. I glance at the computer's clock and watch the time tick-tocking away and with each passing moment it draws near.
In about two hours this house will fill, stealing away the peace and quiet that dwells now.
I will miss it.
Swept away with the stillness will likely be my productivity and space to think, ponder, and write coherent sentences. And any semblance of me-time.
Upon my head will plop my full-time Mommy summer hat and a tug-of-war will ensue between fun and responsibility. The sound of silence replaced by laughter and arguing, creativity and boredom, swimming and sweating.
But it's all good. Very good.
I wouldn't trade this time — a gift to spend the summer with my kids. We'll jump into summer with full abandon, like cannonballing into a shimmery, turquoise pool.
It seems like a fair trade — empty to occupied, lonely to fulfilled.
So I write, two hours before the "big jump". Eeking out the last moments of quiet before the onslaught of summer.
And I actually cannot wait!
Linking today with Lisa-Jo…
The fridge is humming and I hear water trickling into the freezer to make ice. I glance at the computer's clock and watch the time tick-tocking away and with each passing moment it draws near.
In about two hours this house will fill, stealing away the peace and quiet that dwells now.
I will miss it.
Swept away with the stillness will likely be my productivity and space to think, ponder, and write coherent sentences. And any semblance of me-time.
Upon my head will plop my full-time Mommy summer hat and a tug-of-war will ensue between fun and responsibility. The sound of silence replaced by laughter and arguing, creativity and boredom, swimming and sweating.
But it's all good. Very good.
I wouldn't trade this time — a gift to spend the summer with my kids. We'll jump into summer with full abandon, like cannonballing into a shimmery, turquoise pool.
It seems like a fair trade — empty to occupied, lonely to fulfilled.
So I write, two hours before the "big jump". Eeking out the last moments of quiet before the onslaught of summer.
And I actually cannot wait!
Linking today with Lisa-Jo…
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