wretch

This is just another one of those post-modern anti-judgment rants that lots of us are throwing out these days, but I got a little motivated this morning and started cleaning my apartment up since I'm sure I'll be moving soon--even if I stay in Portland, I need to find something a little cheaper--and I found this little paper. I have no clue when I wrote this down, but it was on a sheet with stuff from NYC, so it's safe to assume from there it came.

Some of us know the old hymn Amazing Grace:
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found
Was blind but now I see...

and so on... and in those first few words, the word wretch leapt out at me!! Wretch!! And it occurred to me that two people and two alone have the right to call me a wretch. Myself and Jesus. Jesus does, but he does it in such a loving manner, and with such a bountiful offer of grace and mercy (a desire to help change that status) that it's OK.

Here's the thing: I don't get to call anyone else a wretch!! And no one else has the right to call me a wretch!! So quit it.