A cross to bear


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continued … 

So when you believed in me all those years as you were taught – we were good … right … ?

Yes and no.  If you mean good as in “I believe in this and that” – yes.  But if you mean good as in “right and wrong” – no.

I thought right and wrong weren’t part of your make-up, that “love” was and is.

It was and it still is.  But love has precious little to do with the way I was taught about you.  You are taught as a parent father figure.  And we are your children.  But us children are never taught to grow up.  We always live in your house by your rules to your standards.  We are never free.  And as a father with children that is not just wrong – that is weird!

We wanted our children to grow up and move out – because they would whether we wanted them to or not.  Some stayed longer and some stayed shorter.  But they all wanted to leave and did when it suited them.  Why do we teach a God who wants us to stay “children” our whole lives?  We will grow up – we do grow up – and we do want to move out.  Isn’t that who I am … me and not you?

Do you blame me?

Why would I ever want to blame you?  I can get mad at you.  I can get playful with you.  I can talk like this with you.  But blame you?  For letting “bad things happen” … ?

A lot do.

I have seen cancer end the lives of my parents and parents’ in law.  I have a brother who was killed in a car crash.  A brother-in-law who died.  Friends who committed suicide.  One who committed murder.  I have been redundant and not able to provide for my family three times.  I have been a good dad and bad dad.  I have been a good husband and a bad husband.  And I have seen disasters.  Mass killings.  Natural disasters and man-made tragedies.  Explain to me why I would ever “blame you”?

Look at me here.  Nailed to a cross.  The Son of God made man.  A God who created you perfect and then missed the small detail of you being infected with sin.  Missed the flaw I had allowed.  Created a perfect being who turned out not to be.  So here I am – hanging around in the utmost agony taking the blame so you don’t have to.  You are entitled – commanded maybe – to blame me.

Except we aren’t.  We are commanded to love you, to worship you, to serve you, to sacrifice for you – even our lives.  We are commanded not to blame you but ourselves.  To live on the understanding that you allow it.  That you allow us to live always as sinners who cannot help but sin.  We are not allowed to blame you – but like all children who never grow up – we do.  Like all children who stay at home too long we resent you – we are indebted to you – we are obliged to you – so we resent you and we blame you.  But quietly.  Out of sight of others.  Away from the public worship and praise and adoration and sacrifice.  Where it’s just you and me.  Because if it happens out of sight of others – it never happened at all.

But don’t I “see” everything – every thought and heartbeat?

That’s what I was taught – and that is what I still believe.  And I also believe you don’t want perpetual children always bitching about living at home when they are fifty.  Still treated like surly teenagers.  Still expected to behave like unasking and unthinking toddlers.  Always grateful that daddy comes home sometimes and plays with them and tells them off and says no and keeps them safe.  Because …

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Because of this.  Because of me being nailed to a tree.  Because of my blood being shed for you.  Because I did the thing that saves you.  Because I said so.  Because I am a control freak.  Because I am not perfect but cannot be said to be imperfect.  Because of this nasty transaction I insist upon.  Because the bible says so.

Well you wrote the thing so you should know! 🙂 

Did I Paul … did I … ?

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to be continued …

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3 thoughts on “A cross to bear

  1. Reblogged this on Church Set Free and commented:

    “Do you blame me?

    Why would I ever want to blame you? I can get mad at you. I can get playful with you. I can talk like this with you. But blame you? For letting “bad things happen” … ?

    A lot do.”

    My journey of living included a time when God Soft Hands Jesus and I would sit together on a grassy place. A travelling fairground. Of noise and laughter, shrieks and cries. And he would point out a particular stall of doubt or faith, of humanity or inhumanity. And we would sit and look, sit and think, sit and chat.

    It’s been awhile.

    And now he invites me to sit in another grassy place. At the foot of the cross as his life slowly ebbs away. It’s kind of weird – but lovely.

    “I thought right and wrong weren’t part of your make-up, that “love” was and is.

    It was and it still is. But love has precious little to do with the way I was taught about you.”

    Talking with God.

    Want to tarry awhile with us … ?

    Thanks –

    Paul

    Like

  2. Pingback: A cross to die for | Just me being curious

  3. Pingback: A cross to die for | ccohsydney

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