Them That Hate Me

Cycles of violence … Who hates God? 

Exodus 20:5

Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me;

Who hates God?  The easy answer that comes to mind might be atheists.  But, of course, a true atheist doesn’t believe in the existence of God – how can someone hate something that doesn’t exist?  Satanists are another group of people that we could point to and say that they hate God.  Certainly with their creed, their words and their rituals, they seek to align themselves with the mystical enemy of God and eschew all things upright and wholesome.  But… I would wager that most Satanists in action, in the world and in their families, are no less destructive and unwholesome than some who profess to believe in God.  Oh, there are certainly Satanists who choose evil deeds, who hate and curse and torture and kill.  But, are there not God believing people who do the same, calling on a different name?

How many Muslims, how many Christians, how many peoples throughout history around the world have preached and practiced acts of violence and cruelty in the name of their gods?  Enough to make a person think about wanting to be an atheist – indeed, some want-to-be influential people, like Bill Maher, for one example, blame all the wars that humans have fought on religion.  However, in all truth and reason, we can clearly see that wars arise from ideologies – which often claim no god.  Stalin’s communist regime was one of the most brutal in history and he did not systematically kill for the honor of any god, for he was an atheist.  He was vicious and destructive for himself, for power and greed (maybe even for his own amusement) for the sake of his way of looking at things, his ideology.  And is that not the true cause of every war?  Is not the real reason humans are bent on cruelty and domination that they want to be?  Wars are fought by individual soldiers in trenches and on front lines who may very well have loving reasons for being there – but wars are instigated and created by people who want what they want and will gladly have killed or destroyed anyone who they think gets in the way.  Even smaller-scale acts of violence – the cold-blooded murder of a girlfriend, the rape of a stranger, the lethal shooting of a dozen kids in a school – are not caused by religion.  Man’s cruelty to man has nothing to do with the love and worship of God.

The people who hate God are the people who hate other people.  For every person is created in God’s image.  If you hate anyone in the world – even if you hate the most horrible and vilest of persons – you hate God.  We often think that it is right and good to hate evil doers.  We laud all talk of destroying the enemies of freedom and justice.  Although it is true that anyone who is an enemy of true freedom and true justice is choosing to go against the ways of God, if we choose to hate that hate-filled person, then we, too, are choosing to go against God’s ways.  Christ said, “You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.'  But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”  God does not close off divine mercy from anyone – and neither should we.  For, if we are to live as we were created to live, we must strive to do as God does and struggle to walk in the ways of mercy and selflessness – of real love.

Yes, people do horrendous things and claim to do them for the love of God – but that’s not really love.  Or, perhaps more accurately, that’s not really God.  It’s very easy to think of God as meting out pain and vicious punishment on those who would seek to go against Him.  The Bible has many, many verses that tell of God’s wrath and vengeance and the hurt He puts upon His enemies.  In the verse from Exodus 20, about the Commandment against worshiping false idols God says, “I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand [generations] of those who love me and keep my commandments.”  What we often think of as God’s willfully wrathful punishment, however, is, I believe, simply the natural consequences of our own willfully wrathful choices.  Do we not know that violence begets violence and those who live by the sword die by the sword?  Do we not see the rational truth of this in the world, even in our everyday lives?  It doesn’t mean that the One and Almighty God will smite anyone who seeks to worship through a religion other than the one and only one prescribed by Him.  If it did, God might welcome arguments that escalate into violence about which religion is the true religion – but, God “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”  God gives us freewill and allows us to freely choose, pouring His love and mercy upon each and every one of us, relentlessly.  That loving mercy can feel like eternal pain to those who never want to receive it, not even in the last moments of their lives; or it can feel like eternal sunshine and grace to those who long for the forgiveness and love of God.

If a child is taught to hate by his parents, he will usually become a hater.  If his child, then, is taught to destroy the hated ones, then he will usually become destructive.  The person in the family who first chose, in freewill, to hate a human being or human beings, who first saw cruel domination as a good, set up a cycle of hate, a cycle of violence, that is, as we know, very difficult to break.  But, then, there are those people who willfully choose to have mercy.  Though, sometimes, they are punished by the hating people, their acts of kindness and selflessness do not go unseen.  Their true love, that choice to walk in divine ways, inspires others for generations upon generations upon generations… as are the saints of old, and new, ever inspiring, ever celebrated even after 2000, 5000 years.  And their individual lives do not end with the death of their limited bodies, their self-centered thinking, as do the lives of those who hate God by hating human beings – the lives of those who love God by selflessly loving human beings are as eternally beautiful as the Beautiful One, Who Is Eternal Love.

 

Christina Chase

All Rights Reserved

 

Departed

I would like to say that I am innocent… But I am not.

Psalms 18:21

For I have kept the ways of the LORD, and have not wickedly departed from my God.

When I was nine years old, I was a thief.  Not only did I steal gulps of wine with my friend from the kitchen (warm alcohol in a Mickey Mouse tumbler) and grams of chalk dust from the school gym supply (folding it up in some paper and sticking it inside my wheelchair while waiting for the short bus to come and take me home) and various small things – construction paper, carbon, broken chalk – that I wanted and I judged no one would miss… but I also stole knowledge.  At the end of third grade, I was allowed to stay inside with my friend Beth for recess one day and we decided to open our teacher’s desk drawer and find that secret list.  A secret list existed near the close of every school year with the names of the teachers that each student would receive the next year.  We all wanted to know what classroom we would end up in – would we get our favorite teacher, would our friends be with us?  But, that information, as I recall, was never shared until the summer.  Beth and I didn’t want to wait.  We wanted to know.

 

If memory serves, I was the one who instigated and told Beth to do it.  Being physically limited, I was used to “bossing people around”.  Not only did we find out who we would have for teachers, but also who our friends, and people with whom we would like to be friends, were going to have.  Before the end of the school day, we whispered the secrets to everyone that we could.  Eventually, other kids in other classrooms let it slip that they knew – and when asked where they had heard the news, directed authorities to Mrs. B’s class.  Mrs. B made us all put our heads upon our desks until the guilty party, or parties, confessed the crime.  I did not raise my head.  I did not say a word.  And neither did Beth.  Mrs. B couldn’t keep us there forever, we had to go home.  But, as we were lining up to leave, a boy in my class told Mrs. B that I was the one who had told him, that I was the one who had stolen the list.  My teacher looked down at me and I looked up at her with my big brown eyes.  I remember myself mumbling something about Beth, ready to throw her under the bus – we really weren’t that close anyway – but Mrs. B had poor hearing.  She just regarded me through her glasses, her bright red lips extra thin and tight.  But, then her face softened.  She didn’t believe the boy.  She didn’t believe that I could do something so wrong.  To her, and to most everyone as I would find out in my life, I was an innocent.

 

Indeed, this may seem like a small and innocent offense – what real harm was done?  But, the harm was to my classmates who were all under the shadow of suspicion, for that afternoon with their heads down in the dark and silence, and, for all I know, for the rest of Mrs. B’s life.  And the harm was done to my relationship with Beth, for we never did get close.  Perhaps she overheard my mumbled ratting or perhaps the guilt was just too much for me.  And the greatest harm, I know, was to myself.  For I showed myself, in this incident, my true colors.  Thievery was easy to me and I honestly felt no guilt about that.  I was even proud.  Proud that me, who everyone thought was a little angel in a wheelchair, could commit such an act that got the whole third-grade buzzing.  The fact that I so blatantly got away with it just added to my happiness over the whole event.  But… what I was willing to do to Beth… how I was willing to hide behind the cloak of innocence with which my wheelchair draped me while pointing my finger at her….  I was not a good friend.  This is not only a crime against someone whom I considered a friend, this was, and I say this most seriously, a crime against God.  Sneaky, deceptive, smarmy, and proud of myself, I was bolstered up for many years by the memory of this robbed knowledge.  It was not merely the ignorant act of a child.  For, was there not some innocence in Eve when she simply wanted to gain wisdom, as I simply wanted to know?  And, was there not also pride and greed at grasping for something higher than herself, to put herself at the level of a superior?  And was there not shameful finger-pointing, a desperate attempt to inflict any punishment that she deserved away from herself and onto a co-conspirator?  Wasn’t Adam, too, guilty of this last crime, this greatest crime: willfully inflicting harm upon another in an attempt to hide from the consequences coming justly to oneself?

 

To escape justice, the first humans had to hide themselves from one another – to hide themselves from God.  But… there is no hiding from God.  And don’t I know that, too!  Knowledge thief that I am, did I not dare to proclaim that there is no such thing as God and devote myself entirely to a godless life with myself as the center of a meaningless universe?  No, I never committed murder in that life – although I did strangle my soul’s promptings and suffocate my own spiritual nature.  I did not steal – but I had already hijacked my own reason.  And I did not commit adultery or anything like that – although I did desecrate the temple of my body.  I broke the ways of the Lord by departing from my God.  From truth.  From real love.  From life itself.  And though this willful act was not committed through wickedness, I was still far from the truth of my identity as a being lovingly Created in divine image; I had banished myself far from the tree of life and the reality of reality.

 

Forever east of Eden, we thieves of knowledge go – and the innocent truth of who we really are, we can’t get to know.  There, but for the grace of God, would I, ever seeking, lie; it’s grace that’s brought me home again… I cannot hide from I.

Christina Chase

 

With Open Face Beholding

Lord, change me, make me new.  Make me like you!  – the plea of the sunflower.

2 Corinthians 3:17-18

Now the Lord is that Spirit: and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.

But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the LORD.

There is a flower in my garden which is named for the sun.  In appearance, much like the sun is she, golden arrayed, burning bright from the center with flaming colors outward spread.  But there is more – much more meaning to her identity, because with the sun her whole existence is so lovingly aligned.

She does not mean to mimic or fool by merely sporting appearance – for what bird would dare to perch upon an orb of fire, and, so, what would she have to gain if she would scare away her own propagators, the midwives of her progeny with which she will be so heavy pregnant?  She is humble and knows that she is merely a creature bound to the life-giving sun, and by no means desires to be a substitute.  Yes, she stands tall and bold, but her height and breadth is but a measure of the depth of her humility, for her only wish, as far as a flower can wish, is to look up to that which she adores.  It is the looking up that has raised her.  It is the love of heavenly light that has opened wide her green-leafed arms.  It is her submission to her Master that has given her flowery majesty.

For, all day long, while the sun shows forth his open face, shining full with glory, her rapturous gaze is all caught up in him.  Every minute of every hour that passes, she faithfully follows his path with steadfast love.  No matter what may come between them, whether mist or cloud or dark of night, it is him she always seeks, it is him that her hope will always find.  Some dark days will fall, when a downpour may weigh her head too heavy to lift, but when the rays of the sun are visible again, the drops will slip from down her sunny cheeks and she will pay them no mind, not even to shake them away.  She looks upon the sun again, never having lost him, for she has kept the thought and memory of him, the warmth of the gift that he has given, deep in her heart.  Yes, even when the sun slips over the edge of sight and pulls the veil of night down behind him, she is patient and trusting, and does not collapse in the darkness.  Her head she bends down low – but not in despair, for one who loves as she loves can never hold despair – but in ever recognition of where her beloved lives.  Though invisible to her petal eyes, her heart is not deceived and senses, with true love’s faith, his presence beneath the surface of the world.  And so her vigilant gaze, ever fixed upon its deathless source, follows him as he shines on realms unknown and unseen, far from his touch get ever near to his soul.  And when the night is opened slow, with tender, aching rush, the sun’s rays find her ready face, expectant in faith, and she receives anew the outpouring love of him whom she adores.

From this cause, then, is this flower called for the sun.  He is her love, her reason, and her destiny.  Her blossomy pledge of devotion is her very blossoming – and she is transformed by and into the one whom she loves.

Christina Chase

In His Integrity

What’s left?

Proverbs 19:1

Better is the poor that walketh in his integrity, than he that is perverse in his lips, and is a fool.

 “Blessed are the poor…” yes, yes, I know, but I’d like to be rich – who wouldn’t?  To live in a beautiful house surrounded by comfort and conveniences and beautiful things, to not have to worry about how I’m going to pay the bills that pile up in front of me, to have nice clothes and cars and delicious foods and to be able to travel wherever I would like or give financial assistance and material help to worthy people in need whenever I am moved to do so – who wouldn’t want to do that?  When we think of all the things that money can buy, we think in our minds – and even in our hearts – “Blessed are the rich.”

The stories that we hear about lottery winners always fascinate me.  They win huge sums of money by luck and buy all the things that they’ve always wanted to have – and they admit that they aren’t happier.  Some spend and live richly while still wisely saving and investing enough money so that they will never have to worry about blowing it all – and they say they were happier before they became rich.  Friends and family members become jealous and manipulative, trying to get some of that financial boon for themselves.  People everywhere seek them out with tales of woe in hopes of getting charitable contributions.  And some, in resentment and also in greed, will make the lottery winners feel guilty if not enough of the winnings are spent upon things that they, the non-winners, believe are important.  And then there’s all the stuff – so many things to buy, experiences to purchase, and no extra time in which to enjoy them, no extra heart-space in which to appreciate them.  And the stuff has to be taken care of – or the employees hired to take care of the stuff have to be taken care of – it’s a lot of work.  Some lottery winners become depressed, some commit suicide.  And even the rich who earn their money never seem to be able to get enough of it, are always wanting more.  Rich celebrities live glamorous lives – lives of broken relationships, drug abuse, waywardness.  But, still… Knowing all this, I would still like to be rich.  I would be one of those few who can handle it, who can do wealthy well.  Wouldn’t I?

I don’t know.  How am I doing with not being wealthy?  Am I doing middle-class well?  Actually, my parents are middle-class – but they physically take care of me in their home because of my severe disability.  I, financially speaking, am poor.  In fact, it is rightly said that I am a beggar since I can do no labor, no work inside or outside of the home, to earn my bread.  I depend completely upon others for all of my needs for survival.  So, to go back to my question – am I doing that well?  I think I could handle wealth – but that would only be true if I can handle poverty.

Jesus did not say “Blessed are the financially destitute.”  He said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  I imagine that “poor in spirit” has been interpreted to mean different things over the centuries through different schools of thought.  But, the point I want to make here is that poverty itself – the deprivation of material resources, of those basic needs of survival – is not blessedness.  Merely being poor is not going to make one blessed, is not going to make one happy.  There are many, many people who do poverty badly.  Broken relationships, drug abuse, and suicide affect the poor as well as the rich.  (Perhaps, though, we may think it affects the poor more because there are more poor people than rich.)  The truth is that selfishness, greed, and unhappiness abound in humanity, no matter how much, or how little, money is ready at hand.  If, however, one is “poor in spirit” – well, then, one belongs to the kingdom of heaven.  What does that mean?

To be poor in spirit is not to have some kind of solidarity with the poor, that is, feeling deep compassion for them in their plight and helping them however one can by donating time and/or resources.  The blessedness, the happiness, comes in truly being poor – in being a beggar.  For, what do we have that is truly our own?  You can be robbed of possessions.  Your house can burn down and your insurance company go bankrupt.  You can lose your savings through disastrous investments.  You can lose your job or lose your breadwinning spouse and get evicted or have your house foreclosed upon, watch your car get repossessed and sell off your jewelry, your collectibles, your furniture, until you have nothing left.  Even that body which you use to earn money and go to the store and enjoy leisurely comfort – even that can lose its functionality through injury or disease.  That mind that you use to make sure you have all that you need and with which you appreciate what you have – even that can lose its abilities of cognition and/or memory.  And then what is left?  All that is left is what has always been, what is eternally: your belongingness to the kingdom of heaven.

Whether rich or poor, if we live our lives separated from our true identities, we will never be truly happy.  We were all created by the Uncreated Creator.  We all belong to this Infinite/Eternal One.  Your true identity, my true identity, is as a living image and likeness of God.  But, is that how we live?  Or, do we rather live as our own inventions for our own purposes?  I’m not talking about altruism here.  I’m talking about knowing who you are.  You could be blessed by living your life “looking out for number one” and understanding that that most important one is yourself – but do you know who you are?  If you think that you are your physical pleasures and enjoyments, then you are always going to miss the mark of blessedness.  If you think that you are your accomplishments and achievements, then you will never be fulfilled.  If you think that you are the praising people around you, then you will never know true love, true happiness.  If you think that you are the weight of your possessions, monuments, and money enjoyed now and left behind as legacy when you are dead, then you are most sadly missing out on the fullness of your one, unique life.

The Uncaused Cause has given you an immortal soul to animate your being – and has given you Godself to restore you to true likeness so that you may know blessedness and know it eternally.  Who you truly are is who you are eternally.  When passing things pass away, what is left?  What has always been and always will be: a beggar.  May our begging bowls be open and outstretched toward the Source of Being, the Infinitely Generous One Who truly gives us our fill.

Whether rich or poor, I can be a fool.  Better to have no material pleasures to distract me from knowing who I am, then to go about my life as a fool in perversity.  May we not choose to live our lives perversely, obstinately desiring to do what is unreasonable – and what is unreasonable is all that is is contrary to who we truly are. 

Christina Chase

The Faithful Witness

Revelation 1:5-7

5.    And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood,

6.    And hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

7.    Behold, he cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him: and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of him. Even so, Amen.

Here upon our Earth, we see the Sun in all its radiance and feel the goodness of its heat.  Above our bony skulls is sky of blue and white, through which clouds sail, breezes blow, and birds fly; from which rain, lightning strikes, and snowflakes fall.  Gold and pink, purples and reds give our eyes delight with the Sun’s coming and going, and we are secure, here, in our green and blue home.  But, with the sun’s setting, the veil of sky is pulled away.  In the night, when the clouds are taken from our sight, we see the spaces of the universe, the cosmos revealed before us in the far-flung stars.  So far above our bony skulls that we cannot comprehend the depths of space… Infinity.

Our minds filled with wonder and awe, our bodies sensing transcendence – though some of us may fear, tremble and cower in the night; some of us may revel in the darkness and name the stars as our own; and some of us may imagine the night sky as a poetic kind of ceiling for our Earth.  The truth of existence, once revealed, cannot be ignored without willful ignorance.  Is the Earth, our home, insignificant in the vast reaches of Space?  Are we no more than a bacteria crusted rock hurling through space/time?  Scientists will take out their telescopes and microscopes for the answer.  Poets and philosophers will lyrically lament and laud with symbols and syllogisms.  Spiritually minded people will find meaning in the gaps of their intellectual understanding.  Pleasure seekers will take advantage of the night with probings and pursuits they would not undertake in the light of day.  Most of us, however, will simply sleep.

The Faithful Witness is the one who does not cower and hide, who is awake and does not ignore.  The Faithful Witness does not dissect or pretend or fear silence and limitations.  The Faithful Witness does not close in upon himself and drown out life with too much noise.  The Faithful Witness testifies.  He comes with the clouds so that he may bring light to others, pours out his blood in death so that he may bring life to others, descends to brown soil so that he may wash others clean.  The King of kings, the highest of high rulers, rules not with a bony skull, with sticks or stones, or the pink and gold and flaming silver of stardust.  The solidity of Earth causes us to feel at home, secure in our blue and green sanctuary.  But the true Sanctuary, with the infinite depths of the true holy of holies, is hidden from our earthly sight.  No where in the far-flung universe can that to which the faithful witness testifies be seen.  Nor can the truth be felt.  Nor can the awesome, infinite truth even be known by us of bony skulls.  The truth can only be loved.  The rule of existence is love and the faithful witness is the one who loves without beginning and without end..

How do we, who are at home on Earth, receive the Faithful Witness?  With telescopes and microscopes, with sentimentality and lucky charms, with sticks and stones and the self-centered limitations of our bony skulls.  Him we pierce with our scalpels and switchblades and self-inflated ideas, with the lances of our arrogance and the swords of our desperate feelings.  But, we do not truly see the Faithful Witness whom we pierce.  We are blinded by the created light of sky and the light of our own making.  One day…

One day that is not a day we will see without seeing… and then we will know without knowing even as we have always been known…

Christina Chase

Of Your Fire

"What will fear drive you to do?"  A poem...

Isaiah 50:11

Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks: walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand; ye shall lie down in sorrow.

Loneliness and sorrow settle on me like the night;

no moon or stars to guide me in the darkness of my woe.

Deep in the woods of melancholy,

deep in the woods of fear – who will ever find me here?

I am alone in the pitch black of my mind, in the pitch black of my heart,

desperate in my need to see and be seen.

 

Here is tinder ready at hand, the shadows and phantoms that haunt me in the dark;

and here the flint rock of my hardened fear, upon which I strike, with terrored force,

my desire, my craving, my yearning of basest urge.

I must fight the darkness of this world and not let it consume me.

I must set fire to the dry and hollow of this place and have it burn.

 

Sparks fly up from my own flesh – see?  I am not alone –

the heat of ash and burning embers are stars and moon of my own making,

I walk in the light of pride, guided by my own burning.

Mistaking the pain for love and the searing for union,

I dance in the flames of self-kindling, chopped up into little bits of fuel.

Conceit and distrust spread the fire all through me,

what doesn’t char and crumble is melting into the ground,

and yet, the monstrous spectres do not burn away – they are in the fire, they are in my hands,

they are in my eyes and ears and nose and mouth, choking me…

I am suffocating in smoke.

 

Had I only waited…

had I only made my home in the loneliness

instead of burning my way out;

had I only listened for the night sounds, not terrible and creeping,

but, deeper in the forest of my discontent, the voice

of living water running deep, the song of the Source

singing the night… singing the coming dawn…

singing me, who was never alone.

                                                                     Christina Chase

 

To Every Man That Is among You

Get over yourself.

Romans 12:3

For I say, through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith.

The season of Lent (40 observation days leading up to Easter) is not wholly about ashes and sackcloth, mea culpa, mea culpa, in sorrowful repentance of our sins.  Lent is a time to focus deeply on the examination of conscience, to look deeply at our thoughts, fears, desires, as well as our words and deeds – scrutinizing our attitudes and every decision, big and small, that we make each day.  This is a time that we should devote to the Socratic maxim, “Know thyself.”  And when we take a really good look at ourselves, our conclusions should not be that we are stupid, useless or worthless – just as our conclusions should not be that we are superior to all other human beings, utterly magnificent in everything that we say and do.  We are utterly magnificent in one regard: God created us in Divine image and likeness and loves us enough to take on our humanity and die for us.  For this sacred reason, no human being is worthless.

For this sacred reason – and for this sacred reason alone – every human being is valuable, is precious.  We may think that God loves us because we have professed belief in His Son, Our Lord, Jesus Christ and/or because we do good things that are helpful to others.  But, that’s not why God loves us.  God doesn’t love me because I smile despite being physically disabled and in a wheelchair.  God doesn’t love you because you praise His Holy Name from a pulpit or in a blog.  God doesn’t love them because they are poor and simple or them because they are successful and generous.  God loves each and every human being because God loves each and every human being.  God loves because that’s what God does, because that is exactly who God is.  We have done nothing, and can do nothing, to deserve or merit God’s love – because God has already done it for us.  We are lovable precisely because God independently chooses to bring us into being through His Own Creative Love, to sustain us through His Grace, and to heal, redeem, and sanctify us through His Only Begotten Son.

We should never think of ourselves as any more than this.  And we should never think of ourselves as any less than this.  Being able to grasp the reality of who we are is, well, beyond our grasp – but we come closest when we remember that God loves every human being.  You know that person who really hurt you and doesn’t even seem to realize how badly, even though you tried to explain it to her?  God loves that person intimately and infinitely.  You know that person who is always so arrogant and says such terribly cruel things about other people?  God loves that person intimately and infinitely.  God takes no joy in their sins – God takes no joy in our sins – but He eternally loves sinners.  That means that God eternally loves us, each and every human being no matter what we do, no matter how badly we screw up His Commandments or how well we keep them.  The question that God needs to have answered is the very question that we need to ask ourselves: will we allow God to love us?

Maybe you thought that I was going to write that the question is whether or not we will choose to love God.  I thought about it.  But, then I wordlessly remembered in my heart (or the wordless memory was pushed forward for me) that we love because God first loved us.  The only reason at all that I can love anyone or anything is because God loves me.  So, even if I want to love God, I must first let God love me.  What does that mean?  What does that mean…?  It means that I have to know who I am – who I truly, honestly, eternally am.

I am God’s beloved creation – as is every human being that has ever, and will ever, come into being.  Not me alone – all of us.  I do not need to think of myself any more highly than this to be completely and utterly fulfilled in joy and goodness, in the greatness of destiny.  And I do not need to think of myself any lower than this to please the One Who loved me into existence.  Yes, I have, independently according to freewill, chosen to be unloving at times, many times, through my fault, my fault, my most grievous fault – and by so doing I have sinned in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do.  These moments of self-centered decision, these sins, are when I did not allow God to love me – I did not allow God to lead me in my choices (for, all-loving God will always lead us to the best place for us) and I did not allow God to love my fellow human beings, to love all of His Creation, through me.  Somehow, in some way, I said “No” to Divine Will, which is Divine Love, and that is why I am sorrowing here, that is why I am dissatisfied, that is why I am longing for forgiveness and mercy and newness of life.  Forgiveness and Mercy and Newness of Life is precisely what God wants to give to me through His Love.  Will I choose to receive?

I am only human, and, as such, I can only do so much.  But, God can do everything.  Will I let Him?  Because the thing is… God loves me enough never to force me.

Christina Chase