She was an older woman, living alone for years after the death of her mate. We had been friends. I was her minister. It was my privilege to stand with her through the terrible days of her husband’s illness and death, her grieving period which followed, and the lonely days. But for a lengthy period after that I saw her only very occasionally.
When Judy told me she had called, I sensed I was in trouble. I confessed my neglect and she said she understood. Then she added, “I may pick you up by the hair of your head and not worry where you land.” She was partly joking. Only partly.
And at the end of the conversation she said, “But don’t feel like you have to come over here, to go to all that trouble just for me.” I needed the reminder; my neglect was inexcusable. I would have preferred a straightforward request: “I feel forgotten, could you come by to see me?” Irma Bombeck said guilt is the gift which keeps on giving. Some of us continue to suffer with our failures year after year, turning like a pig on a spit with an apple in its mouth. Others have such a reaction to any feelings of guilt that we have developed Teflon consciences. We deny any responsibility for our failures.
We need true guilt for true moral failure. When we abuse others, in whatever way, we should not be at peace. Our wallowing in comfort while Lazarus lies starving and with sores at our gate should bother us. But hiding our forgiven sins, like a dog hides bones in the back yard and continually digs them up, is an insult to God.
At baptism and in communion we look to the cross where God
forgave us. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful to forgive us.” It’s a
perverse, self-centered pride which discounts God’s gift of