amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me
amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me
God how I used to hate that song. When I was maybe eight we would sing it in Catholic Mass and I would refuse to say "wretch". I'm not a wretch, I thought! What the hell! Why you gonna try and say I'm a wretch! You don't even know me.
Well, I think I was about twenty-two or so when I stopped resenting that song. About the time I realized how much of a wretch I really was. Oh, now don't get me wrong. I'm great, as wretches go. I'm a pretty loving wretch.
A wretch I am, though, nontheless. I have seen too many times my own selfishness and shortsightedness hurt other people: seen my unmitigating craving make me act like a lunatic, my fear make me lash out with aggression, seen myself unable to pull myself out of my own shit by my bootstraps if I got low enough.
I got humbled enough to not mind a little grace. Hell, if there's some grace to be had, then bring it on. Life has made my gladly grovel for mercy more than a few times, and I'm sure that I've got a few more times to go.
I wonder if there's people out there who still think they've got it going on. I wonder if Britney Spears really thinks she's the greatest. Well, maybe, but even Micheal Jackson was the greatest once. Look at what's up with him now...wretched.
How about you?