chicago cubs

Every now and again I can be completely oblivious to my own wretchedness. If I was to totally disarm myself I would admit to you that this happens a lot more than I care to describe. It embarrasses me. It totally nullifies this great idea I always bring up to myself; this idea that says I'm ok. I'm a good person. Whenever I am confronted on an issue, or find myself doing something I promised myself I'd never do I am forced to look at who I really am in a mirror that doesn't flatter (James 1:22-24).

I so badly wish I could rid myself of my wretchedness. I've tried over and over again but there doesn't seem to be an existing remedy. I feel like the Chicago Cubs starting over a hundred new seasons without ever winning the World Series. Of course at the beginning of the season I have high hopes that this will be the year, but somewhere in the not-to-far back of my mind I know this this is just a pipe dream.

Even Paul had these inner demons that pioneered a constant irritation to his spirit. In Romans 7 he transparently confesses that he doesn't fit the profile of a superstar pastor in the limelight of the public eye. In this intimate letter to the church in Rome, Paul spills his conflicted emotions onto its pages by admitting that the very things he wants to do he doesn't do. And to make things worse, he can't even manage to commit to not doing the things that he doesn't want to do. In another letter he finds solace in the fact that without, what he describes as, his thorn in the flesh he would become bigoted and most likely not even need God. So I guess you could say that the thorn itself was the remedy he had been searching for.

I guess what I've been so thankful for lately (and which eventually sparked this blog) is not that I can now compare myself to Paul and not feel so bad about my own wretchedness. That is not the intention of that scripture. But instead I can pursue Paul's repented response. I don't ever want to get to a place where I look into the mirror of the Word of God and see the most undesirable parts of my life, and, in turn, walk away from it completely forgetting who I really am, like James warns. Instead I desire to have my heart replicate the heart of God by breaking the moment I discover my wretchedness. I know that I can never be perfect, without any trace of sin here in this life, but I do want this to tear me apart inside. I believe an outlook like this makes the heart that much more anxious to repent and the ears that much more tuned into what God is speaking.

One day I will be with my creator and I will no longer have to struggle with my wretchedness. And one day the Cubs will win the World Series.