Things Left Undone

Hidden Window

I was taught that sin was doing wrong.  While that made sense, I never considered it equally wrong to avoid doing what is right.

In the confession during Morning Prayer (and in our prayers during Sunday service), we ask for forgiveness for doing the things we should not have done, and also for not doing what we should have done.

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. 

What constitutes leaving something undone?  It sounds like it covers a greater scope than saying that there are things I should have done that I didn't do.  It seems to encompass anything I started but didn't finish as well.

I'm not sure I like that.  I have done a pretty good job of justifying my decisions, to get comfortable with them and put them behind me.  Words and phrases like "Cut Your Losses" and "Bottomless Pit" come to mind when I think of the plans and intentions that needed to change.  Surely God doesn't want me to endlessly "beat my head against the wall" in an effort to move the unmovable or change the unchangeable, does he?

We lived in an old house on Long Island.  Like many old houses, it had its quirks, those unexplainable things that had changed over time from the original design, for which we could find no logical reason, even though one must have existed.  One of those oddities was the stained glass window in the living room.  It was a simple design, a red tulip flanked by blue buds, and it measured no more than two feet wide by one foot.  It sat high on the wall, but it was not centered in the room, at least that is what we surmised.  You see, the window was not visible from inside the house.

What was centered on that wall was a fake fireplace, which I dutifully removed when we moved in.  I matched and replaced the chair rail and molding, and we had the floor patched so all evidence of the fireplace was gone.  But when I started painting the walls, I was troubled by this slight bulge in the plaster.  That was when I discovered the window.

My long list of do-it-yourself projects was about to get longer, and I was determined to reveal the hidden beauty, bringing the room back to it former glory, with sunlight streaming in from above.  But that was going to be a huge, messy project, and given my abilities and experience with plaster, the chances that all would turn out well in the end were slim at best.

We talked about it at length, and decided to abandon the project.

It was something left undone, but was it a sin?

Something tells me that if I conducted a poll, most respondents would say "NO."  But then, most people wouldn't even bother to respond, thinking the question so silly.

I guess my point is one of commitment.  I know I can be quite selective in what I consider to be a commitment, versus a plan, a hope, a dream or a wish.  Perhaps we tend to avoid thinking of our decisions to start something as being backed by anything other than an interest in starting something.  Commitment is a relative term.  I will stay the course as long as it works for me.

Am I being too harsh?

I am just as guilty, and I find it hard to stop, reassess the value of the course I am on and decide to change.

In today's reading from Jeremiah, God sets the prophet on a course to help those who strayed come back.

Go, and proclaim these words toward the north, and say: Return, faithless Israel, says the LORD. I will not look on you in anger, for I am merciful, says the LORD; I will not be angry forever. - Jeremiah 3:12 

He wants his children to know that the covenant they have with him cannot be broken.  No matter what they do, or what they fail to do, God is there waiting for them.  This is how Jesus described God in the parable of the Lost (Prodigal) Son.

When I recite the confession, I acknowledge that there are some things I may have rationalize away as insignificant decisions, some of which may have had consequences.  What if I had stayed the course?  What if I finished the plan?

I have no way of knowing what could have been, do I?  What I do know is that there is a goal, a ministry, a calling that is deeper and richer than any one course of action I may choose.  If I can stay focused on that, and stay committed to it, the decisions I make on what to leave undone and what to do will be the right decisions to make.

Now, as for the window?  I wonder what the next owners did.