Even in my best moments, I sin.
When I praise God, I do it mostly for
things He has given me. My praise is not
so much rooted in his character but in his giving me what I want. In such instances, my real god is not God
Himself, but my own ease and pleasure.
He gets my praise for catering to me, which reduces Him to little more
or else than a means to my ends, a mechanism, a utensil, an instrument.
At the beginning of his Institutes,
Calvin righty insisted that real wisdom consists of two things, knowledge of God
and knowledge of myself. In my sinful
prayers they both emerge. I learn that,
at my best, I am wicked. I learn too of
God’s infinite descent and mercy, which graciously accepts praise even on that fetid
basis.
No comments:
Post a Comment