A Return

So I keep journals. You probably know this. But I really wish you could read them all. This won't happen; they're far too personal for me to probably share with anyone but my husband and kids someday. I'd be okay with the general public reading them after I'm dead and gone, but certainly not now.

I wish you could read them because nearly every entry starts in the same fashion:

12:45am. Augustana 109. 3 November 2010. Song mood: "King of Anything" by Sara Barellies.

"Well, first and foremost an apology is in order. I am sooooo sorry, I didn't finish writing about _______________. I suck. I'm sorry."


I don't know really who my journals are to, but I usually seem to address them to "you", whomever "you" may be. And they always start out apologetic because although I journal frequently, I never say what I need to say fully. I always "run out of time" or am "too tired" or something. There's always some excuse. But I need to apologize to myself in these entries, and I don't know why. Huh.


I tell you these things because I am apologizing to you know. I was really proud of my semi-weeklyish blog posts and I was excited for awhile because I believed people really read them. This made the author in me really thrilled and I loved it, but I got really caught up in life here and chucked blogging by the wayside. I used to check this for new comments on posts even before I checked Facebook (whoa, what?!) and when I logged in today this had all the attraction and warmth as a dust-blown ghost town complete with tumbleweeds rumbling down the lane. For this, I heartily apologize from the depths of my literary heart. Truly.


Apologies make people weirdly vulnerable. When you apologize to someone you're putting your emotions, heart, and pride on the chopping block; you're throwing yourself to the mercy of rejection. But have you ever been apologized to by someone who really hurt you? Or have you knocked yourself down off the totem pole of self-love and groveled for forgiveness at the feet of someone whose soul was ripped to shreds by your cutting words? I've experienced both, and can I ever tell you that afterwards in either case you just feel... clear. Clear like saran wrap. Does that make sense? I feel like saran wrap after apologies - clear, easy, clean...

It's a blow to your personal pride to admit to someone "you were right, I was wrong". It never is an easy thing to do, but sometimes to preserve relationships in your life you have humble yourself -which is something I seem to usually cowardly avoid because it's difficult. However, if we avoid the difficult things in life forever, life isn't going to be that interesting. You'll never have closure about anything and your pent up frustration just might make you blow your top like an over-shaken soda can.

Jesus, as usual, was the perfect model of humility, and gave His followers a deeply intimate look at what truly humbling yourself before men really means. It means we're supposed to wash each other's feet. We're supposed to show love to those people who deeply hurt us, asking nothing in return. It means loving people who got the label of "weird", "ugly", or "worthless" stamped on their forehead by society. We're supposed to help, respect, and forgive everyone - everyone. And it means that we too need to realize our utter sinfulness and humbly ask God for His forgiveness every single day.

How often do you ask God to forgive your sins? I know I struggle with that a great deal sometimes because I play the "compare game" - you've done it too. "I really can't be that bad, I go to a Lutheran college," "At least I'm not doing pot," "I could just be sleeping around with everyone like_________ does, but I'm not so that makes me better than ________"... and the list goes on. When I play that game I always feel like that awful Pharisee in Luke 18 -

" The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed, "God, I thank you that I am not like other people - robbers, evildoers, adulterers - or even like this tax collector"(verse 11).

How terribly, terribly prideful.

"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, "God have mercy on me, a sinner" (verse 13)

I need to return to asking God in fear and trembling to forgive my sins like this tax collector did instead of pridefully strutting before His throne, dictating what He should do in my life. Too often we forget God could quite literally nuke us in a heartbeat - and should nuke us in a heartbeat. Who are we to yell at Him, demand things of Him, or even ask for His forgiveness - when it was us that murdered God?

"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted" (Luke 18:14).

I'm the chief of sinners, yet He still loves me. I'll never be able to get over that. It's always the best news in the world.

So, in sum, I am apologizing to you and asking your forgiveness for not blogging in like 10 years. I'm also going to go apologize to God for all the awful crap I do everyday, and I would encourage you to do the same. Return to routine confession before God. Afterwards, you'll feel easy and clear - just like saran wrap!

"Humble thyself in the sight of the Lord
And He will lift you up
Higher and higher
And He will lift you up"
- verse 1 "Humble Thyself", Camp Phillip.

(And I might even try to return to regular blog posts?)