There is nothing new under the sun, Solomon said. Neither the seeds nor the fruit of my story are so different from yours. Am I right? Do you remember the days of simple stories and simple faith? Do you remember when God simply was? For my agnostic or atheist friends: do you remember the time before disbelief?
From the beginning of time, man has been passing the cautionary tale of Adam and Eve down to the next generation, the tale of the poison fruit that tainted everything. I suspect we retell the story because there is no denying the cycle of self-poisoning. I suppose we tell the story in the hope of finding a cure to the inevitable disease. The pounding, irresistible want to supplant God with self is, in this natural state, unbreakable.
This, I suppose, is the want that wrecks everything. It is found in the careless word that ruins burgeoning faith. It is found in the lust for power that exploits the weak. It is found in the fists of the abusive, on the tongue of the perverse, in the ideological bent of racism, sexism, and classism. It is a tangled web that wraps around us all.
Lord, I feel it.
It is woven into our DNA.
Do you feel it too?
The poison defies the mechanics of time and reaches from the past, into the present, and through to the future. The smallest bit of it taints everything it touches, and that taint spreads from particle to particle until it reaches beyond the finite and into the forever.
The poison of humanity is the wellspring of death. It is bitter gall to the thirsty, stinging sweat in the eye of new faith.
It is Peter’s denial of the Christ he knew. Thrice.
It is the black blood of Judas spilt over such a dark field.
All this poison spreads through the veins of humanity. It spreads sickness, pain, and atrophy. And we, poisoned children, inflict it on others. I was stung by the faith healer. I’m sure I’ve spread his poison to others along the way. Lord, I lament this.
It has been sixty-four days since my last drink. I am sixty-four days into the process of coming clean. With the help of a good therapist, I’ve walked this path of sobriety, and though it has been painful, it has been enlightening. And now here I am, at the point of decision. Will I practice the way of forgiveness? This, I think, is the antidote to the poison.
Without forgiveness, there is no meaningful way to move into healing and peace. This may sound like a conclusory and rather dogged opinion. I’ll admit it. But if sobriety is to be my lot, I suppose I must find the resolution of things that quenches the fire and the desire to drown all feeling forever. In going into it, the pain, the groaning, I suppose I must be the bearer of reconciliation. Doesn’t Scripture call us that, the agents of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:18)?
It is an angst-filled prospect, but I hear the resonant voice of God: I will never leave you nor forsake you. I hope it is true.