Today’s act of self-sabotage is brought to you by Pepsi,  makers of the diet beverage I overindulged in late in the day yesterday. I know better than to drink caffeine past 4pm if I want to sleep at night and I still did it anyway. What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with us? Why, like Saint Paul, do we do the things we don’t want to do and neglect to do the things we want to do (and should do)? 

I’m not going to get to the bottom of this today, but it’s a huge problem for me. I’m far and away my worst enemy. I think I’m addicted to self-loathing and regret. It doesn’t make any sense, I know, and, on one level, I can gaze impartially upon the folly of my ways, but on another, I feel utterly powerless against my self-destructive, self-fulfilling-prophecy-making behavior. This is the mystery of sin, right? It makes you feel like it’s inevitable, like holiness and wholeness are impossible–at least for you. 

Them saints that’s lived so long ago had it easy–sin was much less “sinny” back then. Now we know that we don’t stand a chance because of our biological / psychological / poltical / financial / paradigmatical predispositions.  Why even bother? Failure and disappointment crouch like lions to devour you if even for a second you entertain the uncynical proposition that, as a beloved child of God, Somebody thinks you’re worth perfecting. 

Dear God, please let me see myself through your eyes of love. I want to know the future, I want to know that it all turns out okay, that I’m a good man, that my kids don’t grow up to be serial killers, that I’ve touched a few lives for the better, that I did more good than harm in my 70 or so trips around the sun, but if I can’t know all those things now, give me enough light for the steps I take today, give a day’s worth of courage, give me daily bread.