Metanoia

The article jeb posted today reminded me of this poem by Scott Cairns that's caused me to think a bit more deeply about how I respond to my sin, and to my God.

Adventures in New Testament Greek: Metanoia

"Repentance", to be sure,
but of a species far
less likely to oblige
sheepish repetition.

"Repentance", you'll observe,
glibly bears the bent
of thought revisited,
and mind's familiar stamp

-- a quaint, half-hearted
doubleness that couples
all compunction with a pledge
of recurrent screw-up.

The heart's "metanoia",
on the other hand, turns
without regret, turns not
so much away, as toward,

as if the slow pilgrim
has been surprised to find
that sin is not so BAD
as it is a waste of time.


I don't want to be trapped in the unending cycle of myway-Godsway-myway. I want to be moving steadily upward, though it may look scattered and eclectic, bouncing back and forth, I want the motion to be always toward -- running when I can, and crawling when I have to -- but always wasting less and less time.