Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


My Self...ish

Late last night, in between roasting and reading and pondering, I concluded something: I'm easily the most selfish person I know. That's not one of those statements that is tossed out there as bait for pity, nor is it one that can be refuted, as I said that I'm easily the most selfish person I know.

I had been reading a blog post at some late hour. It was incredibly sad and joyful all at once, so much so that it shocked me into a far more sober state of heart. I don't know the Pipers, nor do they know me. In a sense, I suppose their family gains some sort of mild Christian rock-star status (I'm being sarcastic here, people) by simply being related to John Piper. That clearly doesn't exempt them from grief. Nor, on the other hand, does it automatically grant them joy.

I think I was on the second or third roast of the night, and as the machine went through its cooling and pre-heat cycle, I sat and reflected on my own life, my own heart. I meant what I said about my own selfishness; it's hideous. I can say that without reservation not because I don't give, but because of what I don't give out of what I've been given. It's that old thought that Scott and I have tossed back and forth over the years: an honest assessment of our gifts and talents leads us to believe that we can't be lazy about using them, about using them to love and care for others, as we've been given...well...much.

Tears fall as I think about the death of that precious little one. It was really odd for me to look at the picture of the date on that tombstone -- date, not dates. "What? Just one date? Where's the Oh." Yeah. "Oh." Just like that, life became far more fleeting, far more important than the coffee that was cooling in the tray.

There's this tendency I have to push away love, to not receive it; it's very selfish of me. If you know me and your bibles well, I think you'll understand very quickly what I'm getting at. *Sigh*. It's not often that I lack for words, especially when I feel the need to write as I do now, but my finite heart and mind are too inadequate to convey the love of God. And that is precisely what is silencing me, I think, because as I sit here and type, I'm reminded of those that love me with the love of Christ. Furthermore, I'm reminded very, very keenly of how one-sided that love often is; that, my friends, is incredibly selfish of me, of anyone.

posted by Bolo | 10:07 AM
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