If
conversion makes no improvements in a man's outward actions then I think his
'conversion' was largely imaginary. - C.
S. Lewis: (1898 –1963: was a British novelist, poet, & academic)
Scripture
Text: (SIR 5:1-8)
Rely not on your wealth;
say not: "I have the power."
Rely not on your strength
in following the desires of your
heart.
Say not: "Who can prevail against
me?"
or, "Who will subdue me for my
deeds?"
for God will surely exact the
punishment.
Say not: "I have sinned, yet what
has befallen me?"
for the Most High bides his time.
Of forgiveness be not overconfident,
adding sin upon sin.
Say not: "Great is his mercy;
my many sins he will forgive."
For mercy and anger alike are with him;
upon the wicked alights his wrath.
Delay not your conversion to the LORD,
put it not off from day to day.
For suddenly his wrath flames forth;
at the time of vengeance you will be
destroyed.
Rely not upon deceitful wealth,
for it will be no help on the day of
wrath.
Today's first reading from Mass contains
a list of common excuses that people use to justify their sinful behaviors or
to put off change. Lest we assume that since we've already experienced
conversion we're above all this, let's reflect on the ways that our old thought
patterns might still be entrapping us.
The idea that "Anything's okay as
long as it doesn't hurt someone," or that "It's okay to disregard an
inconvenient or unpleasant law or teaching of the Church because God
understands and he'll forgive me," carries with it the arrogant
presumption that sins are not always sinful and that they don't always produce
bad consequences. Do you rationalize away a Church teaching about faith and
morals by saying that it doesn't apply to you? If so, this trap is crushing you
so slowly and subtly that you don't even notice. Delaying repentance holds us back from
wonderful growth and spiritual healing.
Do you procrastinate because change is
uncomfortable? Do you put off whatever seems humiliating, impossible, or less
beneficial than your old ways? Old behavior patterns feel like cozy blankets,
raggedy and full of holes, but familiar and valuable. Even when we're aware of
being smothered by them or of hurting others with them, we don't know what the new
blanket would feel like, so we hang onto the old. Or we don't know how to get
the new blanket, so we don't really try. The old one has ensnared us; it's
smothering our souls and covering our ears so that we fail to hear the loving,
beckoning call of Christ.
It's a free-will decision.
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