Sometimes I read things I wrote with such passion years ago –and cringe.
I’m not the same person I was then, or even a week ago. I am changing.
Being aware that written words flung into space have an indefinite life-span, I am wary of attaching my name to any opinion that ends with a click. Jesus did mention that someday words spoken in secret would be made public. The recent Wiki leaks poignantly remind us that words typed, spoken or signed may all be piling up in some cosmic file somewhere where there are no passwords, avatars or pen names.
So I’m wondering, given the weight of this responsibility, what I should write. Or not write. I’ve uttered some pretty stupid stuff in my time. Every once in a while, though, I’ve passed on a useful tidbit to another sojourner on the road -but only because it’s a patch of road I’ve already been down -sometimes several times. Some trips worked out well and others…
Sometimes I am merrily dancing down this road when I catch the gleeful possibility of a new rabbit trail in my peripheral vision (where most creative stuff happens.) Sometimes I come out ahead. Sometimes I emerge, scratched, bug-bitten and humbled ten miles back from where I was distracted. Then I get to experience the same lesson all over again.
Sometimes I am merrily dancing down the center of the road when I am attracted by a pretty new idea blossoming on a bush on the verge. After a time, when the thorns from that bush clutch at my mental, spiritual, or intellectual freedom I pull away so hard that I land in the soggy boot-snatching mud in the ditch on the other side of the road.
It may take a while to find the center again.
Then again, I have noticed a tendency in people who constantly worry about being in the center to make the road much narrower than God does; it’s hard to dance on a tightrope. I intend to make use of the whole road and dance, plod, saunter and holy roll (if I feel so led) into my God-given destiny. Tiny “c” conservative is not a compliment if it means burying your one talent in the ground for fear of making a bad investment, nor will making a grand ta-dah dismount from the balance beam of life, after decades of clinging to it with all fours, impress the judge all that much.
I have not arrived, and as the Bible says, “It does not yet appear what we shall be.” I have not arrived, but I would like to leave some bright ribbon trail markers from time to time, if it will help followers conserve shoe leather and take them farther than I have gone.
So, I am subject to change, by the grace Jesus Christ pours on me, because sometimes I’m wrong -and I’m learning to admit it- and he gives me more chances to get it right. I am subject to change because God has created me to be something I haven’t fully realized yet, although he does realize it and probably is not nearly as discouraged by my flubs as I am since he is not limited by the constraints of living on a timeline. He knows the end from the beginning. I am subject to change, because thing one thing I do, forgetting what lies behind I press on to the mark of the high calling of God, and the more I get to know him, the more I love him, and the more I want to change.
It’s a process.