So
we have gone from the laws handed down from heaven to the laws which address,
purely, our relationship with God and neighbor, not a commandment or a law, but
a description of the state in which that relationship must rest: love. It is at once easier (we know the end in
mind, the goal, the perfect, not just the borders beyond which we must not go
[the "don'ts]) yet, at the same time, harder, because it is the ideal,
which leaves us the large middle ground.
The question lies between the two: how far short of the goal is
permissible? Even as I write that, I
know it is not a good question: how much can I get away with? How difficult for all Christians; exactly
when must we behave as the Samaritan?
Today's life, particularly in the City, is a good example. Is a homeless person like the injured
traveller? Today a member of the
homeless community might very likely be the cause of waylaying a
traveller.
I
do not know the answer.
Yesterday,
as I sat in church, I realized it was probably time to admit to God that I do
not have all the answers. Actually, I
should say "complain" to God, for that is a much better way of
putting it. Usually, I tell myself, wait
things out, God's will be done, etc., I can bear anything.
But
I thought I saw yesterday that when I say, "go ahead, deal it out, I can
take it," I'm holding myself out as not needing God's help. I'm saying, I can go it alone. It is not the voice of the child of God, it
is the voice, if not of pride, then of the stubborn child. I recall often the words that I must trust in
God, and I have learned through my children (more than I ever dreamed I would)
what this means. I must recognize that I
am dependent on God for everything I am and everything I do. So, that includes not just my daily battles
(my wants, my needs, my fears, etc.), but my attitude toward victory in those
battles.
In
one sense, however, I suppose a real child thinks he can do everything
himself! Certainly I see that in
Robert! A younger child is more
dependent, so much so that he or she does not spend any time worrying: he or
she knows the father and mother will provide.
Occasionally the child complains, often does his or her own thing.
It
is hard to concentrate on things with the movers coming tomorrow.
I
suddenly realize, suddenly see, as I think of how difficult I have always found
writing in the summer, that this past year has been like one long summer. I have had spots of diligent craftsmanship,
and I think I am better off for that. I
have tried, and if I didn't necessarily fail, I wasn't very successful either. Still, I wrote things, I worked through some
ideas and saw what became of them when I put them to the test. (Not much!)
The next steps are the same, but I hope also they will be progressive,
and I will not have to retrace my old path.
As
I watched the Sound of Music the other night, in particular, the arguments of
Uncle Max to Georg to go along with the Nazis, to at least appear to go along,
I thought of how brave Georg was in steadfastly resisting the temptation to
take the safer, easier path. I thought
how in my own life I face similar temptations.
For example, to go along with the idea of wealth and all it brings, to
be seduced by the importance of things I work on. How easily is it to fall into these
traps! Another article I read recently mentioned
how the devil's work is behind the idea that we are too busy to do the things
we should, to concentrate on what we must.
I
read the Psalms and read of David's praying about battles, about the Lord
arming him and protecting him in battle.
Shouldn't I be thinking of my own life in terms of such battles?
As
I near the end, I remember my stay in 1967, when I neglected my diary at the
end and how that time is now a tantalizing mystery.
I
look forward to going home, to have a change of scenery, make life a little
more simple here (after the movers leave) (until life becomes incredibly
complicated back home!). I suppose one
might tire of a summer with too many days like today (July!): cold, wet, windy;
but we will miss them back home, though I recall wonderful rainy summer days in
the desert, oh, the smell!
Hob
nob creams, hot coffee and
in
the kitchen ona cold, windy, damp day.
 |
| Jeffrey's First Communion June 7 |
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