I Think ...

I'd like to write something without over-thought or merit. :) I'm making my own head hurt. But I don't know what to write! And I'm defeating the purpose because, right now, I'm thinking too hard.

Ivan the Wonderful

My cat, Ivan, bites. I like to blame it on his declawing because it's a rabid pet peeve of mine, and I trash it at every opportunity. I think, mostly, though, he bites because he's a cat. I hate that he wants to bite my friends but, being a cat (which, to train, would take more thought than the brooding Jellicles'), I mainly ask people not to touch him, despite his fluffy body, bright, inquisitive eyes, etc.
He doesn't bite me. I stuff him in a tote bag when I take him to the vet. After a shot for athsma, once, he galloped down the examination table, smacking the vet's arm with inpotent paws. (Scared my vet to death! Guilty hilarity.) "Do you need help getting him back in that bag?" No, thank you. I just picked limp Ivan up, stuffed him in, zipped it.
All this to say, I'm coming to the realization I have an animal heart. Quick to bite, very hard to tame, wants to love slavishly, but surprised, hurt, bites. Fight, hide, survive.
I've called it by 100 self-flattering names, while leaving teeth marks in table legs. It's like, I mean what I say, in love, and usually don't regret it, I'm just sick of the words marching out fully armed, swords drawn, ready to kill or be killed ... Breaking it out of metaphor, I'm timidly quiet, often, in general, to muzzle a potential roar. (Oops. Back to metaphor.)
I'd rather lean more on Christ-love, growing like a spirit-fruit, saturating that part of my wierd, fearful heart. And not so fearfully aware of the fearful potentials of fear. I don't think the Spirit would bring it to my attention unless He could do it. To be tamed by Him, and tempered towards everyone else.
I liked this out of "Blue Like Jazz:" "We dream of Christ's love for His bride reading like Romeo and Juliet; two equals enflamed in liberal love. I think it is more like Lucentio's pursuit of Bianca in 'The Taming of the Shrew.' That is, the groom endearing the belligerent bride with kindness, patience and love." Amen.

snip snip

I'm getting my hair cut in exactly 30 minutes!

my sin, oh the bliss, of that wonderous thought ...

... that it's gone, under Christ's blood.
We took communion Sunday after a few minutes to think about how we might be at odds with the Spirit. Sin, after sin, after sin came to mind. I confessed and confessed and confessed ... We sang a closing song, and they came back again. But this time, they were sweet. Sin, the opposite of sweet, flipped suddenly to sweet because I was realizing grace.
I came from a Christian community, where, I think they're afraid to admit sin to each other, or themselves. It's almost as if there's a superstitious dread of "getting it on them." What? Get what on them, that isn't already writhing in their own hearts? It wasn't until I felt almost crushed under the weight of my own sin, that I felt grace. The freedom of admitting sin, and the freedom of grace!