Comments on: Reprint: On Conversion, Forgiveness, and Regret http://hugoschwyzer.net/2008/08/04/reprint-on-conversion-forgiveness-and-regret/ Fri, 09 Jan 2009 08:26:17 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.3.3 By: Tom http://hugoschwyzer.net/2008/08/04/reprint-on-conversion-forgiveness-and-regret/#comment-436033 Tom Tue, 05 Aug 2008 10:54:27 +0000 http://hugoschwyzer.net/2008/08/04/reprint-on-conversion-forgiveness-and-regret/#comment-436033 Don't know where you are with those regrets these days, Hugo, but that promise always stuck with me too. I first came to AA at 18, which meant my first pass at sobriety was contemporaneous with becoming an adult, and with a desire to start my adulthood and put away a lot of bad things in my first 18 years, so I've struggled with this one myself, out of a desire to shut the door. I'm not exactly as close to God as I might be these days, I think that might be because some of the experiences that I regret saw the version of Him as represented to me early on as rather cold comfort. I can remember times, cold, clear, bright, horrid mornings, when even through a four-Excedrin hangover, I could see in crystal clarity the things that I'd destroyed or thrown away the night or the weekend before. Then, the idea that I could ever be loved by God seemed absurd and obscene. The parable of the lost sheep in Matthew 18 and Luke 15 always stuck with me too. If nothing else, it changes the paradigm somewhat. "More joy in Heaven"... MORE joy. But why? For what reason and to what end? I've known enough people whom I thought ought to have done, deserved to have done, a damned sight better than I would, who took with grace and gratitude things that I answered with scorn and skepticism, who eventually went back out there. A lot of them are dead. A lot of others are in holes so deep that it really will take the rest of their lives to ever get anywhere close to seeing the light again, if they ever do. I'm ever the utilitarian and pragmatist, for better or for worse. The best that I've been able to come up with, in answer as to what I ought to do with what inner darkness I have or as to why and how any joy ought to attend my being alive, able and free despite it all, especially when others are not, is what I do with it, all of it, from here forward. I do my best to accept myself as the perfect product of imperfect circumstances, and to believe, if nothing else out of faith, that even the rotten things that I've known and that I've done are of some purpose and can be brought into some sort of right and sense and balance by what I do now. That, and working to reward the faith of those who stood by me in my darkest hours, and who still stand by me now, pushes me forward into my lifetime process. Seeking forgiveness and amends, all the 8th and 9th steps in the world, can't and won't fix everything. On our deathbeds, the best that others could say of us is that, on balance, we did more good than wrong in what we gave to them. The best that we could say for ourselves is that we did more good than wrong with what was given to us. This is my favorite quote, written by Theodore Roosevelt in the last days of his life: "There is not one among us in whom a devil does not dwell. At some time, on some point, that devil masters each of us. He who has never failed has never been tempted; but the man who does in the end conquer, who does painfully retrace the steps of his slipping, why he shows that he has been tried in the fire and not found wanting. It is not having been in the dark house, but having left it, that counts." Don’t know where you are with those regrets these days, Hugo, but that promise always stuck with me too. I first came to AA at 18, which meant my first pass at sobriety was contemporaneous with becoming an adult, and with a desire to start my adulthood and put away a lot of bad things in my first 18 years, so I’ve struggled with this one myself, out of a desire to shut the door.

I’m not exactly as close to God as I might be these days, I think that might be because some of the experiences that I regret saw the version of Him as represented to me early on as rather cold comfort. I can remember times, cold, clear, bright, horrid mornings, when even through a four-Excedrin hangover, I could see in crystal clarity the things that I’d destroyed or thrown away the night or the weekend before. Then, the idea that I could ever be loved by God seemed absurd and obscene.

The parable of the lost sheep in Matthew 18 and Luke 15 always stuck with me too. If nothing else, it changes the paradigm somewhat. “More joy in Heaven”… MORE joy. But why? For what reason and to what end? I’ve known enough people whom I thought ought to have done, deserved to have done, a damned sight better than I would, who took with grace and gratitude things that I answered with scorn and skepticism, who eventually went back out there. A lot of them are dead. A lot of others are in holes so deep that it really will take the rest of their lives to ever get anywhere close to seeing the light again, if they ever do.

I’m ever the utilitarian and pragmatist, for better or for worse. The best that I’ve been able to come up with, in answer as to what I ought to do with what inner darkness I have or as to why and how any joy ought to attend my being alive, able and free despite it all, especially when others are not, is what I do with it, all of it, from here forward. I do my best to accept myself as the perfect product of imperfect circumstances, and to believe, if nothing else out of faith, that even the rotten things that I’ve known and that I’ve done are of some purpose and can be brought into some sort of right and sense and balance by what I do now. That, and working to reward the faith of those who stood by me in my darkest hours, and who still stand by me now, pushes me forward into my lifetime process. Seeking forgiveness and amends, all the 8th and 9th steps in the world, can’t and won’t fix everything. On our deathbeds, the best that others could say of us is that, on balance, we did more good than wrong in what we gave to them. The best that we could say for ourselves is that we did more good than wrong with what was given to us.

This is my favorite quote, written by Theodore Roosevelt in the last days of his life: “There is not one among us in whom a devil does not dwell. At some time, on some point, that devil masters each of us. He who has never failed has never been tempted; but the man who does in the end conquer, who does painfully retrace the steps of his slipping, why he shows that he has been tried in the fire and not found wanting. It is not having been in the dark house, but having left it, that counts.”

]]>