I sit. The pale fading wall peel as I sit and stare ahead. Each sound echoes through this basement, this tomb of the dead. I should be studying for my exam, but I merely flip through the pages of my Reader; my eyes see the words, my mind sees nothing. Dumbly I sit, uncertain of what I wait for, still more uncertain of what I will become.
I've felt for sometime I ought to relieve this blog. It's as almost as dead as the paint chips falling from the wall in front of me, and almost as dead as I feel. It's been a long tough semester, packed full of challenges. As I've been away from old friends and once more entered the realm where writing is valued, I tossed and examined the idea of blogging again. I wanted to write; in fact, I do enjoy writing, even if the product is not always what I want. But to me, this blog always felt like a looming shadow, a reminder of a past and a self I wanted to move on and forget.
I pondered making a new one, and was about to abandon this one. I kept telling myself: "Leave the old self. Have a fresh start and things will be better. Forget the older one. It's worthless and pointless."
Wrong. So wrong.
I think I am too quickly dismissive of the past, all too ready forget the mistakes and joy of the years behind me.
Mistakes have value. Mistakes have worth. And sometimes, I cannot realize a mistake until after I have made it. This does not make the time, the moments, the years I spent worthless; on the contrary, it makes them all the more valuable. It makes what I do have more precious, more worth holding on to. For all the moments of mistakes, for all the times of regret, there is a lifetime of blessings, of happiness, of learning. Accidents may occur, but the essence remains steadfast, moving forward towards fulfillment.
This blog wasn't a mistake, just as my life wasn't a mistake. While it may contain failings and foolish choices of my life, the blog itself is worth something. It's still me, as much as my past is still me. And that me shouldn't be run from or avoided, but rather recognized and smiled on.
A fresh start doesn't come with hiding from ones past, from not dealing with my problems, from denying I even have them. A fresh start is finding them, learning from them, and dealing with them. A fresh start is writing again, talking again, and living. Period.
This blog doesn't deserve a second chance; it deserves a chance, a first chance. There isn't a second one exactly like this I can make without it being flawed. There isn't a second chance I can give myself without recognizing and seeing my flaws.
And that's the beauty of it: despite this all my flaws, I am forgiven and loved. My flaws have been covered through Christ's mercy and forgiveness. It is through Him that I am worth anything and without Him, I am meaningless. His death gave me salvation. His baptism gave my baptism meaning. His body gives my body life. There is nothing sweeter, nothing purer, nothing more beautiful than to find, that, when confronted with my sinfulness, with my mistakes, I can run to the cross and find Him there with His arms outstretched, and hear the words: "My child, your sins are forgiven. Go in peace."
Amen.
I've felt for sometime I ought to relieve this blog. It's as almost as dead as the paint chips falling from the wall in front of me, and almost as dead as I feel. It's been a long tough semester, packed full of challenges. As I've been away from old friends and once more entered the realm where writing is valued, I tossed and examined the idea of blogging again. I wanted to write; in fact, I do enjoy writing, even if the product is not always what I want. But to me, this blog always felt like a looming shadow, a reminder of a past and a self I wanted to move on and forget.
I pondered making a new one, and was about to abandon this one. I kept telling myself: "Leave the old self. Have a fresh start and things will be better. Forget the older one. It's worthless and pointless."
Wrong. So wrong.
I think I am too quickly dismissive of the past, all too ready forget the mistakes and joy of the years behind me.
Mistakes have value. Mistakes have worth. And sometimes, I cannot realize a mistake until after I have made it. This does not make the time, the moments, the years I spent worthless; on the contrary, it makes them all the more valuable. It makes what I do have more precious, more worth holding on to. For all the moments of mistakes, for all the times of regret, there is a lifetime of blessings, of happiness, of learning. Accidents may occur, but the essence remains steadfast, moving forward towards fulfillment.
This blog wasn't a mistake, just as my life wasn't a mistake. While it may contain failings and foolish choices of my life, the blog itself is worth something. It's still me, as much as my past is still me. And that me shouldn't be run from or avoided, but rather recognized and smiled on.
A fresh start doesn't come with hiding from ones past, from not dealing with my problems, from denying I even have them. A fresh start is finding them, learning from them, and dealing with them. A fresh start is writing again, talking again, and living. Period.
This blog doesn't deserve a second chance; it deserves a chance, a first chance. There isn't a second one exactly like this I can make without it being flawed. There isn't a second chance I can give myself without recognizing and seeing my flaws.
And that's the beauty of it: despite this all my flaws, I am forgiven and loved. My flaws have been covered through Christ's mercy and forgiveness. It is through Him that I am worth anything and without Him, I am meaningless. His death gave me salvation. His baptism gave my baptism meaning. His body gives my body life. There is nothing sweeter, nothing purer, nothing more beautiful than to find, that, when confronted with my sinfulness, with my mistakes, I can run to the cross and find Him there with His arms outstretched, and hear the words: "My child, your sins are forgiven. Go in peace."
Amen.
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