What, me, evil? Seriously? Oh, man...I am. Yikes, how awful is that?
Last week, we were invited to our son's weekly faith formation class. I was curious what in the world they actually do in there, so I went. And of course, I wanted to support him because, well, I love him with everything I have. So off we went. When we got there, we were separated into two different rooms - one for parents, one for kids. Aw man, I wanted to sit with him!
At exactly 7:00, the first man began speaking. He prayed with us and explained all of the exciting things that were happening with the kids, and I felt so charged that they were doing so much with these children in ways that were interesting to them. They spoke their language, things were clicking, and our son looked forward to going every week. Yay, Edge!!
Then up it pops, the story of the Prodigal Son. I admit, I am a little tired of seeing this parable used at just about every church function there is. I know - it's a powerful tale of the infinite mercy and love of The Father, and I get it...I get it, I even get the lesson to the brother who didn't understand why the wayward son was welcomed back with open arms, and I embrace that with all of my heart. And I'm super grateful for it. So I admit, I kindof thought (well at first) here we go again. And my mind began to wander because the know-it-all inside of me felt like she knew what was coming.
But then, out of nowhere, a tiny little voice nudged me, "Pay attention."
Alright, alright. I will. I promise I will listen to what this guy has to say about it. Maybe he can reveal a different perspective I haven't yet heard. I sat up a little straighter and leaned in.
They projected a small summary of the story on the screen in front of us. They read through it once, then paused and said we would read it again. On the second time, they asked us to pick the words that stood out. And of course, like any super awkward gathering of people that don't really know each other, they called on parents to say what exact words seemed to jump out at them. I heard, "love, forgiveness, celebration, etc., etc." and that's exactly what the moderator was looking for.
But nope, not one of those words stood out for me. And I was dying to raise my hand. But I didn't. And I usually don't because I know better than to express my awkward viewpoint. It really throws people off and is a total conversation buzzkill. That's just me, and I embrace my insanely off-kilter social lot in life. And I knew that what I saw wouldn't have been what they were looking for that day. I was in a room full of parents who surely were limited on time, probably had to get back to their other children at home (we're like rabbits), and just kindof wanted the basics. But the word and phrase that stood out to me made me question my very being.
It was "wicked." The line in the summary said something along the lines of "if you, who are wicked can forgive, then imagine what the Father's forgiveness is." I really don't remember exactly what it said. I'm sure I could contact them, and they'd send it to me. But it just stuck out. I didn't realize I was wicked.
Dang. And ouch.
But I suppose any sinner is. I was pretty remorseful at that point and felt for certain that I had to be a better mom. And I checked myself for green skin and hairy moles.
We are "wicked." We make mistakes, we make decisions that unintentionally and intentionally hurt others. And we can't help it. But with His help and guidance, we can certainly try.
After all, we who are wicked are capable of love and forgiveness. Thank goodness - it sure has been a remarkable gift.
Last week, we were invited to our son's weekly faith formation class. I was curious what in the world they actually do in there, so I went. And of course, I wanted to support him because, well, I love him with everything I have. So off we went. When we got there, we were separated into two different rooms - one for parents, one for kids. Aw man, I wanted to sit with him!
At exactly 7:00, the first man began speaking. He prayed with us and explained all of the exciting things that were happening with the kids, and I felt so charged that they were doing so much with these children in ways that were interesting to them. They spoke their language, things were clicking, and our son looked forward to going every week. Yay, Edge!!
Then up it pops, the story of the Prodigal Son. I admit, I am a little tired of seeing this parable used at just about every church function there is. I know - it's a powerful tale of the infinite mercy and love of The Father, and I get it...I get it, I even get the lesson to the brother who didn't understand why the wayward son was welcomed back with open arms, and I embrace that with all of my heart. And I'm super grateful for it. So I admit, I kindof thought (well at first) here we go again. And my mind began to wander because the know-it-all inside of me felt like she knew what was coming.
But then, out of nowhere, a tiny little voice nudged me, "Pay attention."
Alright, alright. I will. I promise I will listen to what this guy has to say about it. Maybe he can reveal a different perspective I haven't yet heard. I sat up a little straighter and leaned in.
They projected a small summary of the story on the screen in front of us. They read through it once, then paused and said we would read it again. On the second time, they asked us to pick the words that stood out. And of course, like any super awkward gathering of people that don't really know each other, they called on parents to say what exact words seemed to jump out at them. I heard, "love, forgiveness, celebration, etc., etc." and that's exactly what the moderator was looking for.
But nope, not one of those words stood out for me. And I was dying to raise my hand. But I didn't. And I usually don't because I know better than to express my awkward viewpoint. It really throws people off and is a total conversation buzzkill. That's just me, and I embrace my insanely off-kilter social lot in life. And I knew that what I saw wouldn't have been what they were looking for that day. I was in a room full of parents who surely were limited on time, probably had to get back to their other children at home (we're like rabbits), and just kindof wanted the basics. But the word and phrase that stood out to me made me question my very being.
It was "wicked." The line in the summary said something along the lines of "if you, who are wicked can forgive, then imagine what the Father's forgiveness is." I really don't remember exactly what it said. I'm sure I could contact them, and they'd send it to me. But it just stuck out. I didn't realize I was wicked.
Dang. And ouch.
But I suppose any sinner is. I was pretty remorseful at that point and felt for certain that I had to be a better mom. And I checked myself for green skin and hairy moles.
We are "wicked." We make mistakes, we make decisions that unintentionally and intentionally hurt others. And we can't help it. But with His help and guidance, we can certainly try.
After all, we who are wicked are capable of love and forgiveness. Thank goodness - it sure has been a remarkable gift.
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