Well, I’ve gone and ruined my son’s life, or at least his entire preschool career. Apparently, yesterday all the preschoolers were to wear red to school and guess who’s mommy dressed him from head to toe in blue without a lick of red on him. It didn’t really seem to bother Jack much until I began to apologize profusely for my negligence. Jack must have realized that he now possessed a powerful weapon against his poor, old, guilt-ridden mother and he decided to wield it without hesitation. His first attack came just after lunch. In a sullen, shaky voice he asked, “Mom, can I have a little extra dessert since you forgot to dress me in red today?” Not long after this he asked to watch a movie, “because you forgot to dress me in red.” Soon this excuse explained every undesirable aspect of his life. If he was grumpy, tired, bored, or frustrated it was all because I forgot to dress him in red. But the straw that broke the camel’s back came when I walked into the living room and found him sitting on his little sister’s head. Before heading to time-out he stopped and said, “Okay, Mom, but do you want to know why I was sitting on Catie’s head? It’s because you forgot to dress me in red today.” This naturally set the stage for a nice, long talk about accepting apologies and offering mercy…and also about emotional blackmail (though I think I lost him on this one).
As I settled into bed last night and began thinking about the day I felt myself become very irritated at Jack’s attempts at manipulation and then suddenly fearful that he might become one of those dreadful people who have convinced themselves they are nothing but a victim of society and have absolutely nothing to do in life but wallow in their misery (yes, I know it’s a little irrational). But just before I fell asleep I was reminded of something I wrote in a journal a few years ago. I searched high and low this morning for the journal so that I could post the entry here in hopes that it might mean something to someone…
“In my own life I have become increasingly aware of the fact that, though many factors may have initially contributed to its formation, my overly critical and negative spirit is inextricably linked to my deep frustration that I am not the person I have always dreamed I would be. Life did not unfold the way I planned, and I have not responded to its challenges the way I had hoped I would. I may not be responsible for all the suffering and pain I have endured, but I am responsible for my reactions to it. Even more humbling than this is the realization that the attitudes and actions that vex me the most in other people only do so because they are the very attitudes and actions I find in myself so deplorable. I am irritated by the arrogant and self-postulating only because I am full of pride and feel threatened when attention has been diverted away from me. I abhor passive-aggressiveness because I am deeply ashamed of my own manipulative tendencies. I feel judged by the crowd because I am an impassive and judgmental person. But rather than allowing the sting to my pride to beckon me to humility and repentance, I have remained enslaved to my pride and contented myself with blaming the world, and at times even God, for my disappointments and frustrations.
Why have we chosen to continue under the debilitating and exhausting burdens of anger, spite and despair when we have been assured a yoke that is much easier to bear (Mt. 11:28-30)? I suspect that for most of us there lay beneath our hard, protective surface a willingness to admit that the world is not entirely to blame for our misery. We deeply regret our past decisions and actions and yet we still find it much too difficult to drink from the cup of shame and humility in the presence of Christ though He offers us healing and forgiveness. We may even crave repentance and the acceptance of responsibility for the part we have played in our state of brokenness, but we cower in the darkness, desperately avoiding the light for fear that by stepping into it we might reveal what we have suspected all along—we are worthless creatures who can never become more than we already are. But along with accepting our sinfulness and the responsibility of our failures, we must learn to love and accept ourselves as God’s dearly beloved children.”
Well said. This is why I think a consistent and constant remembrance of our baptism is key. For it is in the baptismal waters that we discover our identity as children of God, Beloved and claimed by God’s grace. Perhaps this is why Martin Luther would daily place his hand upon his head and repeat, “I am baptized!”
Remember the story of Jesus’ baptism. As he is coming out of the waters, the Holy Spirit descends upon him and a voice from the heavens declares, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
I have often taken this story to be applied not only to Jesus but to all who are baptized and adopted into the family of God. As we rise from the baptismal waters (or drip from a sprinkling), the voice from heavens repeats, “This is my Child, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
Chris, your comments remind me of Henri Nouwen’s Book “Life of the Beloved”. Have you ever read it? If not, I highly recommend it. It is one of the few books I can honestly say transformed my life.