Today was the last session of a spiritual growth group I have been part of for seven weeks. The subject was the practices of peace, and five couples connected in the effort to bring a tad more tranquility into our child filled lives. We are collectively parenting thirty one children, though a third of those are bona fide adults already.
The subject of the ten commandments came up. I have always known them as such, and they hang over my bowed head like a reprimand just waiting for a chance to come crashing down. But today John explained that the verb tense is more subtle than a command. It is the color of a promise.
"One day, one day soon, you will honor your father and mother. You will not murder, or steal. You will not commit adultery." The notion clicked with the sermon today on the seventh day. The work was over. God rested.
I took a deep breath. This felt new to me. Instead of a stick tapping over my head, to threaten me into submission, these ten promises are a reassurance that if I keep slogging through the days of creation, I will awaken to a day of rest, when I am no longer tempted to hurt people. I like that.
It is after all work to hurt people. When I practice snide remarks in my head, it takes gobs more mental energy than, say, praying for them.
