bent woman

Being quiet-- away from home and my normal distractions rather than not busy-- produced some journaling and prayer that I couldn't have reached at my desk at home. In my normal hustle and bustle, sin tends to slink into dusty corners that I overlook. The Sisters' of Mercy mercy and openness provided a gentleness that allowed me to appraise my soul's room, finding many a cobweb of sin: corners cluttered with anger and bitterness and pride. But the webs were woven with nothing abstract. There were memories with words and faces and emotions all stuffed in said corner feeding my sin. Of course, reading my English Grammar book made me realize that there's a lot to my native tongue that I don't know; perhaps it's the same with my crooks and crannies of my soul. How many more areas of my life as basic, intrinsinic and profound do I think I have under control-- just like the nominal? Then, I finished the Eugene Peterson book, Leap Over a Wall, which had a powerful impact on my mind and soul, coupled with I and II Samuel. Some of his observations hit me squarely, leaving me unbalanced. Proust wrote: "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes."

Tonight, one of the sisters gave a talk about the bent woman in Luke who Jesus healed on the Sabbath. Jesus loves. Jesus heals. Jesus confounds. Jesus freed her from eighteen years of staring at the ground physically and metaphorically. The Word touched her and changed her life and her perspective. Yet, some of the religious leaders preferred Jesus to work by their understanding of protocol and worship. Grace is inconvenient and unruly. And, the beauty is... this woman's story is mine. We worship a Holy God known for his steadfast love. It's as Annie Dillard says-- we should wear crash helmets to church. How can I ever believe my faith is anything less than adventure, but I do. I know how to be bent; it's the routine I to which I'm accustomed. But, Jesus breaks routine anyway and anytime he sees fit. That's grace even when I don't recognize it.