Seeing light in past failings
I love technology. I love how you can make a big mistake and undo it all with a click of a button: you can hit control + z, or press back, back, back and presto, you’re right where you began.
The regrets in my life don’t come with that handy “control + z” option – they stay with me. There are ways to forget, of course, to drown out the disquieting voices from the past; I can distract myself with work, or constant social engagements or little jobs around the house. But these memories do rise to the surface every once in a while, and sometimes I ask myself: “Why did I do these things? And how could God allow me to fail like this, if He really loves me?”
An encounter with Caravaggio
When I reflect on my regrets, a certain image often comes to mind – a famous painting by the great artist, Caravaggio. As part of my Masters degree, I studied the Baroque wing in the National Gallery in Dublin, focusing in particular on Caravaggio’s painting, The Taking of Christ. I didn’t seek it out because I felt any particular affinity for it; I merely chose it because far more research had been done on the Caravaggio than on other paintings.
However, over time, I fell in love with Carravaggio’s painting, coming to see it not just as a depiction of a moment in time, but as a reflection of the nature of life itself. The artist used a masterful combination of darkness and light, creating a sharp contrast within the painting. I think that Carravaggio must have experienced life in a similar way; by all accounts, he was a bit of a wild character. According to legend, he killed a man after a quarrel over a game of tennis and then fled to Malta to escape imprisonment. The light of his virtuoso talent was tempered by his messy, violent personal life. This strange contradiction is echoed in his work: without darkness, the piercing, beautiful light in his paintings wouldn’t shine forth so brightly.
Sin and forgiveness: A mysterious relationship
It’s not that we wish darkness to enter into our lives. I know I would love my life to be a Monet painting, full of waterlilies bathed in sunlight. But the darkness enters anyway, despite my best efforts. Sin is a mystery. It’s hard to comprehend how the depths of our guilt and despair can be the very thing that brings us back to God. God’s forgiveness is a most mysterious manifestation of His love for us, simultaneously inexplicable and entirely genuine. He doesn’t want us to sin but if we do, it’s not an obstacle for His love; it’s what allows Him to break through the normal, noisy routine of our daily lives to reach out to us.
“Where sin increased, grace increased all the more.” (Romans 5:20) This profound truth from the life of Christ is echoed over and over in human experience: time and again, we discover, first to our shame and then to our joy, that the very worst parts of ourselves can give rise to extraordinary acts of merciful love.
Letting God in
Of course, this doesn’t mean that receiving forgiveness is always a pleasant experience. Sometimes forgiveness makes me feel indignant rather than grateful. Why should I need forgiveness? But I believe that if I try to prove to myself that I am always in the right, if I refuse to acknowledge my mistakes, I will never fully experience God’s love for me. To gain friendship with God, to let Him into my life, I need to be willing to show him everything about myself: every corner of my soul, even the parts I’m ashamed of.
If I could use that control + z option, that undo command on my regrets, would I have experienced the full richness of life, in all its occasionally messy glory? Would I have become the person I am today? Looking back, I can see now that I have been granted glimpses of God’s true love for me not just despite my flaws but because of them. Technology and the beautifully airbrushed world it can create certainly have their attractions; it would make life much easier if I could erase all my errors with the click of a button. But at the end of the day, I would prefer someone to love me in my entirety, in my failures as well as my successes. And that’s what God does, if we let Him.