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| “Sin” primarily describes a state of living outside of union, when the part poses as the Whole." Richard Rohr |
The photo above has nothing to do with the word for today.
Literally, there is no association of hibiscus with the word repent.
I’m not sure if there is any metaphor we could dig up to make the connection of repentance and a hibiscus.
Repent is a big word despite its average stature. To talk about repenting, one must address sin.
Sin. The ways we separate ourselves from the Creator, creation, and ourselves. Sin is weighty despite its trifling physique. [Yikes, that is bad.]
To repent means to turn away from whatever is separating from Love and return to Love.
Love = The Divine
Inside each and every one of us is the original blessing—the original affirmation of our goodness. Over time we lose sight of the Divine’s original ‘yes’ to us because of our egos. Generically speaking, the egos we create are our false selves. The false self is who we want to be based on who we think we should be according to those around us. The false self is often that part of us that tells us we are autonomous—we exist on our own efforts and need no help from anyone.
Or the Divine.
To recap so far.
Repent means to change one’s mind or, as Richard Rohr says, “to go beyond one's mind.” [my mind is blown after that statement]
Sin means to separate ourselves from the Creator, the creation, and the Christ within. It is the idea that we can exist on our own beyond the Divine and neighbors, all by ourselves—the false self—autonomy.
It’s getting deep—like the pot holding the hibiscus. But hold on.
The story of salvation goes something like this:
The Holy One creates.
We fall for sin’s trap—that we can do better than the Divine in organizing [politics] of our lives.
The Holy One sees us, hears us, and liberates us.
Isaiah’s text is harsh. It is poetry at its finest. Long story short—chapter 2 is the prophet inviting The House of Jacob to repent.
What is their sin?
They forgot who and whose they were—children of the Living God.
Old Testament theologian breaks it down this way:
a. the land is full of silver and gold—they started to serve mammon
b. the land is full of weapons—they wanted to be like all the other nations trusting in military power to save them
c. the land is full of idols—projections of self-achievement, self-security, and self-congratulations
Why does this matter? To put it bluntly—they no longer were depending on God.
The prophet then is inviting them to turn from this desire for autonomy and self-sufficiency and return to the way of God.
There is a cliché that goes something like “pride before the fall.” It’s cliché because it is true. The House of Jacob forgot who they were and whose they were. In their pursuit of autonomy, they separated themselves not only from God but from the very people they are to care for the most—the poor, the oppressed, the widows, and the stranger.
For me, the false self tells me I must keep doing. That I have to be all the things to all the people. If I’m not doing something, then I’m doing nothing. And doing nothing is not acceptable because I could probably be doing something even if it isn’t anything. That’s the thing with the false self—it knows it is nothing. Hence, it convinces you to do something even if it isn’t actually anything. The more it does achieves and experiences, the more real it becomes. Eventually, I define myself by how busy I am.
The question I ask myself is—where is God in all this doing?
And that’s why I took the picture today.
Because on the second trip out the door [the first one I forgot my coffee and car keys], I noticed the flower doing what flowers do—being a flower. It wasn’t trying to be anything else. It was turning its little head towards the sun breaking through the curtains, and smiling.
I literally walked by the flower and then turned around to take the photo.
Did you catch that piece?
I turned around—I returned to a resting state of being—even if it were but for a moment. I was present to what was happening--and what was happening was I AM. The separation between me and the presence of What Is Happening was gone. I was present to The Present--a part of the Whole and no longer apart from It.
I came back returned to this picture often today. As I rushed from one thing to the next. Reminding myself that my worth isn’t based on how many words I write, how many emails I send, or how many phone calls I don’t make.
Instead—I am God’s beloved child.
I am because God is—and that is all that I will ever be.
Which is enough for me.
This is great!
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