Friday 20 October 2017

On Good Dogs

Every evening at the end of the day, my dog is told that he has been a good dog no matter what has happened during the day. He gets stroked and patted and assured that he’s always a good dog. That’s how he knows he has a home.
            Alas I don’t have the same conviction about myself. On the contrary, I’m sure I am and have been a sinner, and my daily experience confirms this. A survey recently wanted to know if I looked back on my life as a scene of happiness and success. Not entirely. Most of my trips to the past reveal sometimes grim mistakes and true catastrophes, enhanced by ignorance, arrogance, and greed.
            And there’s no one to tell me each day that I’ve been a good human all day long. This realistic view of my condition doesn’t lead me to feel low and depressed, though, because I have a hidden treasure. My errors comprise a lengthy list, added to by my limitations. But I am a soul for whom Christ died, and so are you, and so are all of us. You cannot be saved alone, but we live in honour nonetheless.

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