The Moment of Sin

Photo: Driftwood next to Pier 76, Manhattan Island. This pier is the pier I sailed to Hamburg, Germany from at the age of 7, in 1962. I walk on it nearly every afternoon at lunch.

I cannot afford to think about how good I am. There is, to be sure, goodness; but that goodness arises from an unknown source and only flows into me. I don't own it; I cannot make it mine or make it do my will.

Instead, as life arises, the more aware of it I am, the more conscious I am to it, the more I experience my sin.

I don't polish this mirror to make it look better; I don't name it a new name or deny that it is real. Sin is sin and I dwell within it as a fact, not a theory or a concept or something that happened before or that will happen later. Here I am now in the midst of my sin.

This is an ancient call, to awaken to feeling and see this. Can I hear it? Or am I too self-absorbed to listen carefully to this truth?