Dear God,
I have hurt so many people. Finally I can admit this to myself. I have tried to convince myself that everyone would be forgiving. And indeed, now that you wrote eternity on me, I can actually believe such a thing is possible. Though some may never forgive me.
But no matter if I am forgiven, I am not excused. I have dealt a blow, leaving more than a scar. I have taken away something I can never give back.
It kills me inside. I have watched people suffer on my behalf. I have put them through humiliation and I have just watched them. And what preoccupation haunted me but this wretched, childlike fawning for their respect? I have ruined family upon family.
I struggle to believe sometimes that that is not still me. This body of death follows me like a figure lurking in the corner. He looks just like me.
I don’t want to hope. He is bigger than anything, until I finally let my face turn toward yours. Why must you be so rude as to shame my proud shadow with your blinding light?
Yet now, I find myself separated from the choking chains I have prescribed. And I am an elegant chain, a necklace fashioned to adorn a bride. A chain intended to fit loosely, to be presented, not stowed with the rest — drawn forth and chosen, emerging from a tangled mess of a life.
Nothing on earth can renew me, but grace from above covers my evil self as a burial cloth covers the dead.
I could dwell upon the pain I have caused. I could sob for days and days about how many times I have stricken Your people.
Or I could love. And that could be quite enough.
And you could carve out a path for me.
You could lead the way, following behind me, covering my shadow with a breadcrumb trail of mercy.
I am ready. Please open my eyes now. Show me that if I am forgiven by You, I am forgiven among the holy ones whom I have stricken.
Forever Yours,
Saul.
