The Cycle

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Then he bent down and continued writing on the ground.

When they heard this they went away one by one, beginning with the eldest, until the last one had gone and Jesus was left alone with the woman, who remained in the middle.

Jesus again straightened up and said, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ ‘No one, sir,’ she replied.

‘Neither do I condemn you,’ said Jesus. ‘Go away, and from this moment sin no more.’ – John 8: 8-11.

I’ve often wondered whether the woman’s life was truly changed for good by her one encounter with Christ.

I suspect not.

Especially with those last words left throbbing in her ears. But then again, that just might be my own projection.

The Cycle

The day is made new, the resolution firm.

Clean hands, clean slate.

A fresh scent fills the lungs.

Like the first day of creation

It is very good.

Then, slowly compromised,

Weakness, bargaining, weariness set in.

No place to hide.

No relief in sight.

I stumble. I falter. I fail

Yet again.

Humiliated, I turn once more

To face my accusers.

Expecting stones, I am given bread,

Lathered with unexpected grace

Like so much honey.

A grace which sets the wasted day to rights.

Granting me, once again,

The time to gather my strength and

The desire to clutch at fresh wisdom.

I then take refuge in the silence of the night.

Until the next dawn draws near

When, yet again,

The day is made new . . .

Peace

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