I’m a little teapot

Forgive the bad 30-second-Photoshop, but the point here is not to show off my Photoshop skills, but to illustrate the story.
Forgive the bad 30-second-Photoshop, but the point here is not to show off my Photoshop skills, but to illustrate the story.

This entry is my journal entry from my holy hour on Monday, August 25, 2014. I’m trying something new for my journal. I’m using an app for the iPad that I just write in, so I’m gonna try something new here, too. I’m putting up a PDF of my original handwritten (albeit electronically) version. I’m also going to transcribe it (perhaps with minor edits) as my actual entry.

There are some who try to explain our distance from God, and our value and that which we do as a pile of dung covered in snow. The illustration is of a theological principal known as total depravity. The problem with this illustration is that it is just plain wrong. It is wrong in just about every way I can think of.

The original handwritten version of this entry

(Note: I address these to God when I write them, so that’s the “you”.)

My soul is not as a dungheap covered in snow. For then you would have created a dungheap. Rather, my soul is finest silver that, under my stewardship, has been allowed to tarnish I don’t deny that the lustre of my own soul is often hidden from me, now. But, like the silversmith itself, you see the shine that is hidden by the tarnish You even give me a tool to return that shine. You offer forgiveness. But, if I take up your forgiveness, I also make a promise. I promise you to keep the shine.

No!

Wait!

Left to itself, even silver tarnishes. If I let myself stay far from you, the tarnish will return. Even if it is not the filth as before, it will lose its lustre! That’s it. That’s why you call us to stay near you in the sacraments. You offer me the Eucharist to stay near to you. You give me that food for the road of life that is the daily cleaning along the way — the day-to-day maintenance of my soul’s sheen. You invite me to return to confess even the small spots of tarnish They are shined away in your blood. Even if they just are the dull spots that have yet to turn black, you shine them. Even if I have long missed a spot and black tarnish has taken over, I have only to show you, and your blood shines it away.

Father, you made my soul as brilliant as silver! Return it to the glowing lustre you created. If I am still hiding some spot from you (or even from myself), show me that spot. Give me the courage to let you gently shine it away. Make my should live up to the pride you already take in your creation.

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