When we're the cause of sin, repentence saves

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/032120.cfm
Hosea 6:1-6
Luke 18:9-14

I know a man fairly well who struggles with two faults — drinking and gambling. He calls them his demons. No one should be condemned for struggling with demons. My friend agrees wholeheartedly, which can be both refreshing and infuriating. His holiness in the face of these problems amazes me.

In today’s reading (Luke 18:9-14) my troubled friend affectionately resembles that 1st Century Roman tax collector. I’ll call him TC, which interestingly mirrors his nickname. 

When TC imbibes in any of the distilled or brewed substances, fault number one kicks in. Consumption of alcohol takes him on a 24-72 hour journey of inebriated and eventual hallucinogenic endeavors that he will likely, and thankfully, not remember.

Fault number two usually fosters the development of fault number one. Gambling begins with sober calculation.  Games of chance with TC's, better than average ability to count cards, turns into a welcome recreational retreat from his tiring job as a craftsman — a very good craftsman, by the way. When sober, which he manages 90% of the time, TC makes a good living and excels at his work. 

TC also excels at gambling, which assuredly led to a successful brain/heart conjoined addiction. Keen playing card wizardry triggers an immediate reward/courage mechanism. Sips of alcohol when winning appears, or guzzles of brewed courage after the rare losing stretch.  Indulgent mechanisms take place every single time. 

Inebriation and gaming activities, especially as TC's historically confirmed addictions, make for ribald bedfellows. Keen calculation disappears when sobriety disappears. As sobriety wanes, calculations lose their efficacy.

That nasty 10% of stupor recreation bleeds through the rest of TC’s existence. He explains it this way. “Take away 8 hours of sleeping, 12 hours of working, and I’m left with four hours to talk myself out of gambling.”

TC prays every day that he won’t jump out of his no booze, no wager wagon. “No way I’ll just fall off,” he jokes. Each evening tests him without mercy. Many of his peers in various crafts suffer from the same set of temptations. 

“I’m probably better at most of my pals in both parts of our lives — working and sinning.” 

Due to TC’s job, many of his clients know about his addiction problems. He retains his customers because he’s extremely good at what he does. The looks he gets, though, and the outright judgments and condemnation to boot, come regularly. Some with love. Many with exhausted patience.

“I’ve had many tongue-lashings. Well-deserved,” he says without embarrassment.

TC’s exemplary character trait, however, trumps everything going on in his difficult life. TC prays for the people who get angry with him and say harsh, mean things.

“Up until they look at me and judge me,” he says quietly, “they are perfectly nice people. When they smell the alcohol on my breath, or get angry because I need an advance to pay off my gambling, they turn into me. I don’t think they realize that judging me is sinning. It makes me heartsick.”

TC believes he’s the cause of their sin. “It’s a revolving door every third or fourth week.” That’s the extent of his best behavior, he admits.

His intimate sharing of these details came up because I felt the prompting to ask TC if he was OK. “Why do you ask?” he said. That question tells you everything. I held back my judgment of his late arrival, his unkempt appearance, and his need for cash, and I told him I was praying for him. 

In truth, I didn’t think to say I was praying for him until after a very long pause. I swear prayer wasn’t my idea, though I quickly accepted that answer over the other ones trying to make their way out of my mouth.

He told me in a broken voice that he was grateful that I hadn’t been poisoned by his failure at handling his demons.

TC’s faults, worn on his sleeve, ugliness for all to see, confound those of us who’s faults are hidden. All sins lead to death, we discussed. I assured him that my sins, which he knows nothing about, will lead me to evils just as heinous as his. 

“Repentance,” he told me. “It’s not a cure. It’s not a treatment. It’s a freaking life raft.”

I asked if he thought he’d eventually overcome these demons. “When I die, certainly,” he said very quickly. “My dad prays for me and forgives me all the time. He knows what I’m going through. He’s been clean for twenty years, but he told me he’s broken down a handful of times. I guess our sinful nature never gives up.”

Neither does Jesus, we both said at the same time.

“That’s why we’re going to heaven,” he said laughing about the coincidence. “We believe that’s true.”

TC didn’t fix what I’d called him to fix. He had to catch up on some other jobs that had mounted up since his last three-day bender. I did what he told me to do, though. I ended up fixing it myself.

My hidden faults have never been more difficult since that last time TC and I talked. Not sure how many folks like TC would pray for me if they knew them. TC said he’d pray for me, and the exacerbated temptations increased. He hinted that’s what happens.

“Pray and God challenges. Don’t pray and God challenges. It’s all the same, but we see it more clearly with prayer.” 

I remembered one more thing he told me. “If everyone knew how awful each of us can be they’d be praying all day. That’s what we’ve all got to do. Pray for each other so that we can repent. We’re going to sin. It’s the repentance that matters.”

I sure hope you can find a holy friend like TC in your life.