A Sunday Confession

I've got a confession to make. And I am not quite sure where to begin. It feels kind of like ripping off a band-aid. The kind that has been stuck there for awhile and you know it's going to sting but you just gotta do it anyway. 

I've been extremely bitter lately. I've been a bitch. I've been a bitter bitch. 

There. I've said {written?} it. 

And I am not really sure how it got to this point. This point where I am ungracious {read: not really extending grace to people who are challenging to love}. I halfway joke about being "unchurched" but it's not really funny. 

And I have been so angry lately at the loud, outspoken people who think that demeaning people and shaming them will lead them to Jesus. {And I am having trouble myself living out this great commandment to love}

It's such a vicious cycle spinning around this fallen Eden of ours. 

This morning, though, I woke up with something in my eye. I couldn't see anything causing the irritation. But it burns and waters and just really hurts. {Okay, God, I will deal with my own specks before pointing out - even searching out - the logs in others' eyes}

I'm just a sinner, a dirty whore who's been forgiven, and longing for Eden. And trying, although I fail miserably sometimes, to love people along the way. 

And if I have failed to love you as I should, my dearest friends, please forgive me. This repentant heart of mine wants to, by grace, love better. 

 And this has resonated with me: "I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us." ~ Anne Lamott

Amen and amen.