When Sinners Get Old

I hadn't written anything in my old blog (steelchicken.blogspot.com) for so long, it was pretty much dead in the dust, so I decided to start a new one. This one has a theme. The concept is simple. It's this: I don't view life, and my spiritual life in particular, the same way I did when I was young. Perhaps my writings will meander around over time (isn't that the beauty of blog writing?), but this is at least how I'm starting out.

Now this premise may seem like kind of a "duh" topic to introduce. Anybody who considers this for a bit will most likely observe that it's just a given that, as we get older, our minds change. But when you actually get to the point where it happens, it can be an interesting thing to examine.

And, as an aside, I'm not sure that all minds do change, at least not that much. There are a good many relatives of mine whose political and spiritual perspectives (or lack thereof) have not changed over the years. They've only become more entrenched in their biases and intolerances. (And, with my family, this usually takes the form of intolarance towards tradition and piety -- intolerance swings both ways.) Enough said.

I'm 48, almost 49. I think what got me started thinking about this was when a young Baptist man came to my door a few weeks ago and tried to proselytize me to go to his church. It was a short but intriguing conversation, at least in retrospect.

When I told the fellow that I went to a Catholic church, he responded, "well, did you ever think of changing churches?" (Ah, if only he knew. If only he had walked a mile in my moccasins.)

I told him I wasn't interested in changing churches.

He then questioned me on my salvation. Having spent years in the Evangelical Protestant church, I expertly spun off the answers that he was looking for. I did this mainly so he would leave me alone. I didn't lie. I do believe all that I told him. However, I now believe it differently than he does. I now think there's more complexity to it all and, in an odd way, more simplicity.

The last thing he asked me was whether I had prayed the sinner's prayer -- had I asked Jesus to forgive me of my sins -- had I asked Jesus into my heart. I told him, "yes, many times."

He jumped on this and told me that I only needed to do it once. I knew before I gave my answer that my words would push a button. However, I didn't pursue the matter any further. The guy was beginning to wear me out. What did occur to me though was to ask, "well, I guess you've yet to experience a fall from grace then, have you?" (And I think I will discuss this issue later on -- the need for continual repentance.)

Also, the young man seemed happy ...and convinced, so why get into a battle with him? (I guess that's another way that I've changed.)

The experience reminded me of myself some twenty-five years or so ago. I was like that young man. So convinced. So right. It's interesting how, since then, the darknesses of life have wearied me but have also brought with them greater mercy and (I say with humility) a kind of wisdom.